AN: Here's the next chapter. Let me know what you all think.
Arctic Wolf Fury - Death Eaters will definitely continue to get their just deserts, and Astra will continue to avoid indigestion and things stuck in her teeth.
Bellalphine Black - I guess you'll find out.
Mewpagano - Thanks!
scrappy8 - Thanks!
Jet22345 - The current wait ends, and soon the next wait begins.
Nessinha Cullen - Hope this helps dispel some of the anxiety before it returns while waiting for the next chapter
Chapter 26
They'd only managed a few hours of sleep before they'd all gotten up, packed up the tents, and left the campsite, first returning to the Burrow with all the Weasleys and Hermione before Sirius and Dora, along with Percy and Arthur went into work.
The Weasleys had been kind enough to let Harry stay with them for the day, and while Dora knew that Harry might have wanted to stay a bit longer, like originally had been the plan, she and Sirius were not quite as inclined to agree. He would return to their home at the end of the day.
His actions against the Death Eaters had drawn a lot of attention, both from the press, and more importantly, from the Death Eaters themselves, who now knew he wasn't to be underestimated. Thankfully, Savage was quite understanding about the press issue, and even livid himself since it meant one of their own people had blabbered, so Sirius and she were off to speak with the editor of the prophet.
Dora could still see the stupid article in her mind.
There had been digs about the Ministry . . . blunders, lax security, national disgrace, dark witches and wizards running around unchecked, but the rest of the article had been even less enjoyable.
'Ministry officials refused to comment, offering little reassurance to terrified wizards and witches waiting breathlessly for news, but rumors are abound that Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, was involved in attempting to apprehend the Dark wizards and witches and saving the terrorized muggles.
It's unclear what the Ministry was doing because Mr. Potter reportedly saved the four muggles, and apprehended several suspects single handedly, though why the Ministry accepted the help of an underage wizard is unknown.
More disturbing reports, however, say that Mr. Potter's actions and the actions of his frighteningly dark familiar, a grim, resulted in the death of one of the perpetrators and the amputation of another's arm.
While his heroic actions are commendable, one has to wonder where a boy, no older than fourteen, learned such powerful and destructive magic and what sort of person our hero is to utilize such destructive magic? Perhaps the influence of his guardians, Auror Nymphadora Tonks and Auror and infamous formerly accused mass murderer Sirius Black? Perhaps the influence of Potter's reported mentor, infamous retired curse-happy Auror Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody?
Were these the actions of a hero trying to save lives, who used lethal magic in the face of unfavorable odds, the actions of a boy out for revenge against those who might have served the one who killed his parents, or were they possibly a show of force by a power hungry wizard? Only time will tell.'
The article would have been bad enough, just with it implying that Harry was a dark wizard or at least overly hardened by his caretakers, but then his friends and the rest of the non-adult Weasleys had chimed in, and Harry had revealed that he had indeed amputated a man's arm, which had not gone over all that well, even if it was reattachable.
Ron and Hermione had been shocked. Hermione had seemed particularly troubled by her best friend's actions. Fred and George had been impressed, though they had looked at Harry with a bit more respect, and Mrs. Weasley had cried. Only Ginny had seemed rather unaffected, but then again, when a boy saves you from a fifty foot basilisk by stabbing it with a sword and then 'kills' the memory that's possessing you, you probably have a different opinion of what is actually a problem. That girl was indebted to Harry and loyal to boot.
Dora knew that Harry was going to be dealing with some questions throughout the rest of the day. For now though, it was time for Dora to focus her attentions on Sirius throwing around his political weight as a scion of an Ancient House, a member of the Wizengamot, and an Auror.
"Ah, Mr. Black, Ms. Tonks, I'm told you wish to see me?" Barnabus Cuffe, the editor of the Daily Prophet asked, with a smug and knowing smile.
"First, it's either Lord Black or Auror Black, and you know exactly why we are here," Sirius said shortly. "Your article had too many rumors which implied slanderous claims against my godson."
"I'm not sure what you mean?" Cuffe responded, stiffening at the rebuke, but swallowing a bit too, clearly taking the title Lord at its value. The Blacks of old had a reputation. "I believe it is fairly well documented at this point in time that Harry Potter was present and fought against those demonstrators, and it is also well known that his actions led to the death of one of the assailants and the dismemberment of another."
"Really? Is it?" Sirius said, almost mockingly. "Funny because I was there, along with many in the DMLE, and we have not released any statements, and Harry certainly didn't kill anyone. In fact, the death was caused by the assailants firing a killing curse which accidentally hit one of their own."
"Well, that's what you say," Cuffe said, "but I have reliable information that the killing curse was launched at that grim of his."
"So, if I fire a killing curse at you right now, and you avoid it and it hits your secretary," Sirius said darkly, causing Cuffe's smug look to fade. "Then do I get to make sure that it is known that your actions led to her death."
"Is that a threat?" Cuffe asked stiffly.
"Of course not," Sirius said with a roll of his eyes. "The threat is that you have implied that my godson killed someone, and that didn't happen, and thus if you don't print an apology tomorrow, we'll get my litigators involved, which will include Ministry litigations for publishing unsubstantiated rumors and causing civil disturbance, and we'll also make sure that exclusive interviews are given by my godson and other actual eyewitnesses to every paper ranging from Witch Weekly to the Quibbler about how the Daily Prophet prefers to write slanderous rumors about an underaged wizard, the hero of our world no less, and I'll be interested to see how your viewership is affected."
Now Cuffe's eyes had widened in shock before they narrowed.
"You don't have the authority to have Ministry litigators involved," Cuffe nearly growled out.
"Oh, I believe I do," Sirius said with an almost feral smirk. "You see, the Ministry is taking accusations of major crimes very seriously, what with my unjust imprisoning, so a newspaper, one that many read basically accusing someone in a public setting of killing someone . . . well they take that seriously."
"So the government will silence the paper?" Cuffe demanded.
"The government will demand that slanderous rumors aren't printed," Sirius responded coldly. "I remember when it would have been one of the gossip rags that printed that. Not the Prophet."
"It doesn't matter," Cuffe said sharply. "Litigation will get you nowhere. We never stated Potter killed anyone, nor was it our intent to do so. You'll need intent to win a case."
"Will we?" Sirius said mockingly. "I'm pretty sure actions and outcomes can be just as damaging as intent. Sure, to be arrested for murder, intent must be present, but manslaughter is still viable if I cast a cutting curse and accidentally killed someone. I think doing a poll of Prophet readers and finding that a large portion also believe that Harry killed someone will show that your outcomes and actions were slanderous regardless of intent."
Cuffe scowled.
"I won't print a full retraction without proof that our story isn't true," Cuffe said petulantly.
"Well, then you won't get a story at all," Sirius said with a shrug. "I'm sure the Quibbler will happily publish an exclusive story."
"Ha! The Quibbler. Nobody will believe that rag!" Cuffe said with a snort.
"They will when Harry, myself, Auror Tonks here, Director Amelia Bones, Captain Rick Savage, and several others all provide their exclusive testimonies, and when a memorandum is sent through the Ministry making that edition of the Quibbler the official story. It won't help that we will eventually happily get the same story published in Witch Weekly, Quidditch Weekly, The Wizarding World News, and even small papers like The fucking Wizard's Voice or the Wizard's Enquirer simply out of spite, despite most of those papers not even covering major news," Sirius said forcefully, smiling savagely as Cuffe's face fell in horror.
Amelia Bone's testimony alone would spell trouble for his paper, lending credence to whatever is said, regardless of whether it dealt with her words or not.
"I'll have a partial apology and retraction printed tomorrow," Cuffe said bitterly. "I'll have all unsubstantiated claims retracted."
Sirius grinned. "I'm glad we could come to this arrangement. Let's hope you keep this in mind for all future articles."
Dora chuckled as she followed Sirius out of the office.
"Not bad, cousin," Dora said, and Sirius gave her a mock affronted look.
"Not bad? Not bad!" Sirius complained. "That was an incredible use of the Black charm that you need to learn to utilize my dear Nymphie."
Dora scowled. "What Black charm? You had all of the pleasantness of an enraged dragon."
Sirius grinned. "That's the Black charm. Our family is not known for being pleasant. We're known for power and having subtlety in dealings until it's time to threaten or blackmail to get what we want. We use our political clout and family wealth along with available information to get what we want."
"Glad to know we have such a stellar reputation," Dora drawled, and Sirius barked a laugh.
"Only in matters of business. In all matters, Blacks reign supreme," Sirius said with a roguish grin. "So, speaking of other matters, when are you going to give me some information on the lovely Miss Greene?"
"You can find out your own information, Siri," Dora responded back. "If Black's reign supreme, surely you can talk yourself into her pants without my help because I'm certainly not helping you sleep with one of my best friends."
"Oh, Nymphie, you wound me!" Sirius exclaimed and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Who said I just want to sleep with her?"
"Please, I remember what mum used to say about you," Dora said with a grin, and Sirius chuckled.
"That was true, back then," Sirius agreed pleasantly, "but a lot of time has passed, and admittedly, meeting someone for more than just meaningless sex sounds quite nice."
"And the fact she's a knockout and flirts with damn near anything has nothing to do with your choice?" Dora asked dryly with a raised eyebrow.
"Well, admittedly her being extremely attractive helps," Sirius admitted, "but I do think her personality is great as well! Unless I'm stepping on your territory? Have you been tempted by the beautiful Miss Lexie Greene?"
Dora smirked. "Maybe I have and maybe I already had my fun there."
Sirius's jaw dropped and he chortled.
"No," Dora said with a chuckle, answering the rest of the question. "We did have some fun for a bit, but we both agreed to just being friends. Regardless, I'm not going to give you tips on how to sleep with my friend, especially when she's not the one you want."
"What do you mean she's not the one I want?" Sirius asked with a frown. "She's gorgeous. Of course I want her."
"Yes, yes, she's sex on a stick," Dora said with an exasperated wave of her hand, "but you're just chickening out of talking to Alexis, the girl you really want. Not sure what history you two have, but I say you get over it and see what's what."
Sirius gazed at her looking a bit impressed, before he shrugged.
"We flirted a bit back when I first joined the Aurors," Sirius admitted. "She was only two years older than James and I, and just as pretty and fierce back then as she is today. I liked her then, and well, if things hadn't gone so badly, maybe we would have had a shot. She's still single now, so part of me does want to give it a shot."
"Then give it a shot, Sirius," Dora said patiently. "I get that you're worried about losing a 'what if' situation that's probably meant a lot to you, but it's better to know and move with that knowledge than sit here planning to sleep with random girls that don't interest you simply to avoid making a decision, especially when that action might drive Alexis away."
"That was surprisingly good advice," SIrius admitted, "and I'll consider what you've said. Though, maybe you should consider your own advice when it comes to a certain someone that you're interested in."
Dora scowled at him, but unable to deny that she was attracted to one rather handsome older werewolf.
Sirius snorted. "Ah well, instead of worrying about us, maybe we just do our best to turn Harry into the ultimate god of attracting the other sex . . . or same sex if he's into that thing."
"We're not turning my fourteen year old brother into a sex god," Dora said with a grimace, almost wanting to shiver just thinking about that.
"What? I didn't say sex god! He'll have to learn how to become that on his own, but why wouldn't we help him attract whatever interests him?" Sirius demanded. "I'm talking about flirting and appeal! I have to have the bloody Talk with him, and by gods, I want him to feel comfortable about this sort of thing, so he can come to me if he has questions, and I want whomever he may choose as a partner or partners to at least have a hope of enjoying their time. That's not a bad thing. As a woman, especially one who bats for both teams, you could really help clear up a lot of the confusion that he might have. Besides, I really just want to teach him how to flirt and read cues so he's not as clueless as most boys!"
Dora sighed, nodding slowly in agreement. Sirius wasn't wrong. As Harry's godfather, Sirius was in charge of making sure Harry knew about the birds and the bees, something she was glad that she wouldn't have to do, and she couldn't fault him for making sure Harry knew about consent, but also about making sure his partner enjoyed things as much as he would. It was something she wished that she'd had an older woman to explain to her . . . and a man explaining things from his perspective would have been nice too. She could help him at least navigate crushes and dealing with girls. She wasn't going to give him tips on actual physical activity though. No fucking way. Sirius could do that if he wanted, but Dora was cutting the line at that. Harry could figure it out for himself like every other angsty teenager.
"I'm not talking about giving him graphic tips and tricks," Sirius said, almost reading her mind, a grimace on his face. "I just want him to know about consent, knowing about talking to a partner since everyone has different likes, and at least making him aware of basic anatomy, so he's not doing something that's going to be uncomfortable for his partner, and at least has general ideas of where might be comfortable for his partner."
Dora nodded. "That's fair, I guess."
Sirius snorted. "Having you, his loving big sister, tell him how to give a girl an orgasm would probably scar the poor kid for life."
Dora chuckled at that, agreeing, and hoping to all the gods that this conversation was about over.
"We're also going to get him those language rituals," Sirius said with a grin, and Dora sighed.
"He's not going to even be of age to compete in the Triwizard Tournament," Dora said. "What does he need language rituals for?"
"Just because he isn't competing does not mean that he won't find some Beauxbatons or Durmstrang students to chat up," Sirius said easily. "They've got that ball, and Harry should have some fun. You said he started noticing girls last year, which makes sense, but fourth year is the first year he might actually consider dating, especially with the Yule Ball going on. He certainly noticed a girl or two at the Dueling Circuit!"
"And he can't just ask a Hogwarts girl or a girl that actually speaks English instead?" Dora asked sarcastically.
"Of course he could and probably will, and I suspect most, if not all, of the foreign students will speak English anyway, but it would be nice of him to be able to speak in their language and make it easier for them," Sirius said impishly.
"Easier for them, or easier for him?" Dora asked amused.
"Eh, same difference, innit? At least in this case," Sirius said with a shrug. "If he'd grown up with Lily and James, he would have learned French and Portuguese anyway. Lily was fluent in French and James was fluent in Portuguese, and I know both would have wanted Harry to learn another language, even if it was just so both parents could mock the other with their child in a language the other didn't know."
Dora laughed at that, remembering how much Aunt Lily and Uncle James used to like to tease and mock each other. Sirius was certainly right about that.
"Alright, you can buy him those language rituals," Dora said, knowing Sirius would have done it anyway, and the Blacks were also ridiculously rich and the cost of them wouldn't even phase Sirius. "Though you get to explain why he should have them, and you have to do it without telling him about the tournament."
"Pfft, I don't see why we don't just tell him. He's certainly already suspicious enough, what with us forcing him into dancing lessons."
Dora laughed. "Oh he was so mortified at first!"
"He seems to enjoy them now though," Sirius said with a chuckle. "His father was a fantastic dancer. His mother had two left feet, but she did love to dance with James, Remus, or I. The rat never wanted to dance with her. Looking back, now it makes me wonder about the bloody traitor."
"Good thing he took after Uncle James in this, then," Dora said. "I don't think there's anyone Harry's in love with that could get him on a dance floor if he was horrible at dancing."
"Er, maybe not someone, but if schools haven't changed too much, then I suspect a spiked punch might do the job," Sirius said musingly.
"Good point," Dora said with a shake of a head. "Also, great parenting, just assuming your godson is going to get drunk at a school dance."
"Oh, Harry probably won't," Sirius said with a wave of his hand. "I doubt anyone's really spiking the big stuff, so unless he goes with an older student that convinces him to drink, he'll be fine . . . though I guess he is friends with three pretty, older girls . . . eh regardless, they look out for him. Damn near threatened to curse me if I harmed him in any way."
"I do love those three," Dora said appreciatively, and Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Besides, he's at school. It would be nice to see a letter mentioning those types of mistakes. Normal mistakes for a teenager," Sirius finished.
"Good point," Dora admitted, "but I'm not ready to be an aunt, so make sure your talk isn't pushing him into trying to sleep with some girl at fucking fourteen!"
Sirius grimaced. "I don't like it either, Dora," he said, "but the fact is that there are still purebloods who get marriage contracts at that age, not including the ones who have had them since birth, and definitely quite a few by sixteen. While I doubt he'll be sleeping with anyone, the fact is that it is a possibility, and I'd like to prepare him now rather than let him flounder like everyone else has his entire life up to your re-entrance."
Dora sighed. "You're not wrong. I know that as much as anybody. Still, I feel like you're trying to make it easier for him to score. He's not you, and he's not his father."
"Oh I know that," Sirius said. "In a lot of ways, he's more like his mother, but women aren't exactly the picture of virtue either. Lily certainly wasn't and neither were most of the people of either sex I knew back in school, even if most of them did end up in long term relationships. If anything, James was the more virtuous of the two, being madly in love with Lily for most of his hormonal teenage years. Honestly, she was probably with more people just to spite James for their fifth and first part of sixth year."
"Bloody hell, I need a drink," Dora muttered. "Would this conversation be as fun for you if Harry was a girl?"
Sirius shrugged. "Why should that matter? Godchild is a godchild. If Harry was a girl, I'd arguably be more concerned and even more eager to make sure that she was properly educated, especially since a teenage pregnancy can backfire on her even more than a guy, sadly. Besides, girls, as you well know, are just as randy, and have it far easier finding someone to sleep with them than most guys do. So, yes this conversation would be the same even if Harry was Harriet."
Dora stared at him in surprise. "That was surprisingly mature and rather thoughtful. I didn't know you had it in you."
Sirius grinned. "There's a reason my family hated me. I'm not a racist, sexist, blood purist."
"Well, at least you have that going for you," Dora said in amusement, and Sirius flipped her off.
"We should get back to the office. We can get the bloody language rituals after work."
**HP**
"Well done, boy," Gorlok said, admiring the blades that Harry had created. "You might make a decent weapon smith yet, despite your puny human hands."
Harry snorted in amusement, well used to the curmudgeonly goblin's fond insults at this point in their apprenticeship.
"This is only a small step of course, and the gods aided in this creation, but there is little left for me to teach you in ways of the forging of swords, knives, or daggers. You will likely improve with time, but only so little. If you keep this up, you might have a good career as an artificer."
"Thank you, Master Gorlok," Harry said formally, truly grateful for what Gorlok had taught him. "Now, if only I could teach you some proper humor, rather than your sad goblin attempts. Is that where your obsession with gold comes from? You're trying to buy a sense of humor!"
Gorlok scowled at him, and Harry grinned, seeing through the goblin's facade, noticing the thin smile. It had taken some time, but Harry and the goblin had found a quiet friendship and mutual trust. Harry respected the goblin's abilities and in turn the goblin respected Harry's work ethic and openness to learning. Over the summer, Harry had learned a lot, and the results before him spoke for themselves.
In front of Harry were no simple blades.
As Harry had come to learn, the goblins were no different from wizards in some ways, one of those being the worshiping of deities. In fact, many of the goblins of Gringotts prayed or paid tribute to Hades as the God of wealth, something which had endeared Harry to some of them, at least in a minor way. Gorlok, being a forgemaster held patronage with Hephaestus, and indeed, to Harry's shock, Gorlok was the goblin equivalent of a fire mage, and thus was quite familiar with the forging of divine weapons. While there were certainly differences between forging normal steel weapons and forging divine weapons, and there were differences between various divine metals and materials, a forgemaster like Gorlok was skilled enough to deal with the differences with a little preparation and some study, both of which he was able to get with Harry's tome from Hades.
Because of this, and because Harry's primary weapon was a sword, and his skill with knives, Gorlok had focused his efforts on teaching Harry to forge blades which culminated in them taking a few days over the course of several weeks to search out the necessary materials for him to make the stygian iron blades that now sat before him. It hadn't been easy. They'd had to find water from the river styx, they'd traded some (a fair bit) of the hide from the basilisk that Harry had killed to obtain the stygian iron itself from Hades as well as the essence of a shade, and lastly had been some hair from a shadow hound, which Astra had easily provided, and hair from a thestral, which Hagrid had helped him out with, after a quick letter to his friend.
With Gorlok, Hades, and Hephaestus's help, Harry had now forged a hand-and-a-half sword, black as midnight on the night of a new moon, and as deadly as can be. Like all goblin blades and divine weapons, the sword would never dull and could reflect most magics, but beyond that, his blade had special abilities. With it, he could kill werewolves, despite the blade not being silver, he could kill vampires, banish or destroy ghosts, ghouls, phantoms, and specters, and all other manner of dark creatures, and if he killed or destroyed any sort of creature or being with his blade, the sword would absorb the life essence of whatever was slain and hold the energy for Harry to use with his shadow magic. Granted, Harry didn't expect to go around killing things with his blade, but part of being a shadow mage was learning to conjure dark creatures that weren't meant for the mortal plane, beasts that when left alone sometimes found their own way to the mortal plane. If the gods demanded, he could conjure (or would be able to conjure someday) these beasts by opening a portal into their plane, and in doing so and defeating them, help to prevent possible future incursions by culling a population while charging his blade for whatever conflicts might arise. The sheath was enchanted in such a way that he could choose to wear it on his back or wear it on his waist.
He had also forged a counterpart to the blade in the form of a ten inch dagger with all the same properties of Harry's sword. They had, lastly, additionally forged eight balanced throwing knives, which could be used to pin somebody's shadow to wherever it was, using the target's life force to power the shadow pinning, while also still having the ability to kill creatures of the night. The dagger could be worn on his back with his sword, or could be worn on his waist. The knives' sheaths were enchanted to be wearable on his leg, arm, waist, or chest.
He wasn't a shadow mage yet, but he had just taken a big leap in that direction. He still had a lot to learn, but he was closing the gap, and he knew, with the help of his family, his friends, and his patron and matron, he would get there.
**HP**
Like the year before, Harry was a bit gloomy at the end of the summer holidays, having enjoyed the whole summer, seeing friends, learning how to fight, learning various types of magic and how to be a shadow mage, and learning how to be a weapons smith and forge blades, not also counting the many enjoyable days with Sirius, Remus, Dora, and occasionally Mad-Eye as they explored the UK and did whatever they thought sounded fun.
Naturally, to help him not feel so sad, Mad-Eye, Dora, Sirius, and Remus decided to make the morning of his return to Hogwarts an early wakeup call followed by one last rough test of his abilities by putting him through a grueling workout and obstacle course, which involved using various spells he'd learned over the summer in addition to anything he already knew but felt fit the criteria for use. Dora joked that the real intent was to get him swearing so badly he'd be wishing he was back at Hogwarts
Just as they were wrapping up, Mad-Eye, who had been about to talk, froze and then looked at Sirius.
"My home's intruder alarm just went off," he growled out, already turning to move towards the apparation point.
Sirius grimaced and shot an apologetic look towards Dora before running off after him, determined to give him some back up in case it truly was someone attempting to get into Mad-Eye's home for whatever reason.
Dora and Harry both shot the retreating pair concerned glances before Dora sighed.
"They'll be fine. If it's anything serious enough that those two can't handle it, they'll call in backup from the Ministry. We should get ready so that we can get you to King's Cross," Doras said, and Harry nodded his brow furrowed. "Don't worry, I'll let you know if anything happens," she said, seeing his face, and Harry shot her an appreciative smile before he ran for the house to take a shower, change his clothes and do the last of his packing.
It was a relatively easy journey for them, though not very enjoyable with the rain coming down. Dora apparated the two of them, with Harry's trunk to a non-descript alleyway near King's Cross, and they made the short journey to the train station through the rain. Harry knew Astra would join him once he'd gotten on the train.
Surprisingly, they ended up getting through the barrier around the same time the Weasleys and Hermione did, which was nice because it meant that Harry and his friends could all claim a compartment together, which they quickly did.
After they had a compartment, they quickly made their way back onto the platform to give their proper goodbyes before the train left.
Harry exchanged a hug with Dora, their hug lasting a bit longer than normal, and Dora sighed.
"I'm going to miss you little brother," she said. "It's going to be so maddening trying to deal with Sirius and Remus of all things!"
"Oh, please, you enjoy both of them," Harry said with a grin. "I'm sure you'll have a massive prank war like has been threatened multiple times this summer."
"Maybe," Dora admitted with a grin. "I do need to show them that they're both clearly outmatched."
"Clearly," Harry agreed, mock seriously, and she lightly slapped his arm, and his grin matched hers.
Mrs Weasley, Bill, and Charlie had all come to send off the younger lot, so Harry was happy to get to see the two eldest Weasley brothers one last time before they both returned to Egypt and Romania respectively.
"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.
"Why?" said Fred keenly.
"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it . . . it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."
"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.
"Why?" said George impatiently.
"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it. "
"A bit of what?" said Ron.
But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors.
"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.
"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, thinking of the few days surrounding the World Cup.
"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but . . . well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with . . . one thing and another. "
"Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?"
"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"
"What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together.
"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you . . . Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?"
"Have fun kiddies!" Dora called out, nearly tripping in her exuberance to call out and tease them.
The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.
"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Dora, and Charlie sped away from them. "What rules are they changing?"
But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, Dora, and Charlie had Disapparated.
"It must be whatever Sirius and Dora kept teasing me about this summer," Harry muttered as the four Weasley siblings and Hermione looked at him. "I could never get it out of them what it was either, but for whatever reason, they made me learn how to ballroom and swing dance this summer and Sirius bought a half dozen language potions that I had to absorb, so something big must be happening."
"Dancing?" Ron muttered in horror.
"Language absorption potions?" Hermione asked, with a curious tilt of her head.
"Bloody expensive those are," Fred said, sounding impressed. "Basically it's a potion that you drink and it puts all of the knowledge of how to read, speak, write, and understand a language into your mind, and that includes regional dialects for the language, but like I said, very expensive."
Hermione glanced at Harry in shock.
"You learned a half dozen languages this summer and didn't mention it?!" she demanded.
Harry shrugged. "It was only a couple days ago. Sirius said they might come in handy and gave me the potions. He gave me French, German, Spanish, Bulgarian, Russian, and Portuguese. Again, he wouldn't explain why, and I certainly haven't practiced any of them, so I doubt I'm all that good."
"I can't believe I've never heard of them," Hermione said. "Why aren't they advertised more? I would have thought Professor Tolkein would have mentioned them in the World Languages class!"
Fred and George shrugged. "You'd learn about them around OWL and NEWT time. They often come up when you start discussing career interests. People that want to be translators, or work for Gringotts, or work for the Department of Magical Cooperation are those who might get recommended to buy them, if they can afford them, or to start learning a language the harder ways without it. Tolkein's class is about the magical methods to learn languages quicker without the rituals. It'd be a bloody useless class if the first thing he said was find a pile of gold and buy these things. He wants to help you navigate without them, even if that's just using translation charms. Like we said, they're very expensive, and being technically a commodity, there's really no reason for professors to bring them up, and they've been around for a long time, so you won't find them in most textbooks being mentioned as groundbreaking or anything. Your best shot of hearing about them would have been visiting a shop that sold them."
Hermione looked fascinated at that, but nodded in understanding to why as a third year, she might not have been told about them yet.
"Oh, I meant to ask you!" Ron suddenly exclaimed. "Do you know what was going on with Mad-Eye this morning? Dad apparently had to go over to help him this morning."
Fred, George, Hermione, and Ginny also looked at him with interest. While they hadn't met Mad-Eye often, they had met him a few times being around Harry, the Dueling Circuit being one such instance, and they did know that Harry knew Mad-Eye pretty well and obviously saw him nearly everyday. Ron and Hermione had both been a bit jealous to learn that he'd been given a slight exemption from underage magic so that he could continue his elemental magic and learn to protect himself better.
Harry shook his head slowly. "I don't know about that. Mad-Eye was with me this morning, but then he said the wards at his house were going off so he and Sirius ran off. I hadn't heard anything by the time Dora and I were coming here. What did you guys hear?"
"Not much," Fred admitted. "Something about some sort of disturbance and I guess it was loud enough that the muggle please men . . . ?"
"Policemen," Hermione interjected, and Fred nodded.
"Well, the muggle policemen showed up, and I guess dad needed to get over there to help out or something. I guess some dustbins went off and made a lot of noise and threw rubbish everywhere."
Harry groaned. "That's so typical of Mad-Eye to have something that is loud and gives him a warning, but also covers whoevers sneaking up on him in garbage," and Harry lowered his voice in a rough impression of a Mad-Eye growl, "like the filth they are."
Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny all laughed at that, while Hermione tried to hold back a smirk.
"Well, I guess it was imperative that Mad-Eye not go before the Improper Use of Magic office and instead got some sort of infraction from dad's office."
"Yeah, well with how paranoid he is, I think he's jinxed or hexed one too many people who reacted badly around him," Harry muttered, never having fully seen that side of Mad-Eye, though maybe that was more to do with that Mad-Eye was a bit more relaxed around him and Dora. Sure, he always practiced CONSTANT VIGILANCE, but he never flew off the handle around them.
"If he was at your place, something must have activated his wards," George said musingly. "I wonder if someone was actually trying to get in or if some cat is running around scared out its mind."
Most of them laughed at that, while Harry thought it through.
"Mad-Eye's really good with wards, and while I know it is possible he missed something that could have them triggered by a stray cat, since wards can be tricky and have to be very specific, I bet his dustbins can only be triggered by people. The question I think is whether someone was actually trying to break into Mad-Eye's place or was it possibly just neighborhood kids trying to cut through his yard or something? And if it was someone trying to get into his place, was it someone who knew Mad-Eye lived there or was it just some stroke of insane bad luck and a muggle burglar or something tried to break in?"
"Oh merlin, imagine some poor muggle thief trying to steal from Mad-Eye," Ron said with a laugh. "Poor bloke would have a heart attack, and it would be hard to tell if it was natural or because of a combination of Mad-Eye's spells.
"I wonder if they caught anyone, or if there was evidence someone was there," Harry muttered thoughtfully. "Well, I'm sure we'll find out soon enough. Dora or Sirius will let me know."
"Well, young Gryffindors, we're off to pester Lee," George said, nodding at Fred, now that the conversation had died. "We'll see you at the feast!"
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, since she couldn't find another open compartment, went back to their compartment, and settled in for the journey, chatting about various things ranging from what the secret event this year might be to stuff they'd done this summer to what the new DADA professor might be like.
Several of their friends looked in on them as the afternoon progressed, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, and also Katie, Alicia, and Angelina.
Discussion with most of them mostly centered around the World Cup, which meant that Hermione inevitably grew tired of the endless Quidditch talk and buried herself in the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, and started trying to learn the summoning charm.
Midway through the conversation with Dean, Neville, and Seamus, Malfoy and his goons turned up for their semi-annual appearance on the Hogwarts express, naturally to hint about their knowledge of whatever was going on this coming year and to try and insult or taunt Ron, Harry, or Hermione. Thankfully, the three Slytherins had taken great delight in none of the Gryffindors knowing what was happening and felt that was enough of a taunt and left easily after that, though Goyle had been glaring harshly at Harry the whole encounter. It was his father, afterall, that he and Dora had captured at the World Cup, even if not a ton had been done about it in the end. A couple months in Azkaban for 'the disruption'. Dora, Sirius, and Mad-Eye had been livid, as had Savage, Kingsley, and Lexie, who came over that night to drown their frustrations together.
Finally, they reached Hogwarts, and quite grateful to not be crossing the lake like the First Years would be doing, in the torrential rain, they got into a carriage, minus Ginny who parted ways having seen some of her yearmates, and enjoyed the short ride to Hogwarts, and soon found themselves avoiding Peeves who was dive bombing students with water balloons, and making their way into the Great Hall for the Sorting and the Feast.
The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four, long, House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer here. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, and exchanged greetings and light conversation with the ghost and with other fellow Gryffindors sitting around them, like Ginny's yearmate Colin Creevey, whose younger brother was apparently a First Year this year.
Conversation eventually turned to the staff for the year, since it seemed like there were more empty chairs than usual. Professor McGonagall was presumably ensuring the entrance hall floor was dry for the First Years and Hagrid was still likely fighting his way across the lake, but after a moment he realized that whoever was the new Defense teacher wasn't present at the table.
"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Hermione, who was also looking up at the teachers. "Maybe they couldn't get anyone!" she finished anxiously.
It was rumored that the job was cursed, and since nobody had survived more than a year at the job before being forced to leave for various reasons, or in Quirrell's case, dying, the rumor seemed more of a truth.
Further discussion was halted as the Great Hall doors opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. If Harry, Ron, and Hermione were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school.
Having been forced to miss the Sorting last year courtesy of the dementors, Harry rather enjoyed listening to the new song the hat created and clapping and cheering with his Housemates for each new First Year that became a Gryffindor. Colin's brother, Dennis was the first to join them at the Gryffindor table.
After the Sorting, Dumbledore immediately stood up, smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.
"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in. "
Conversation immediately turned to how they were apparently lucky that there had been a feast at all that night, as according to Nick, Peeves had upset the House Elves, but no sooner had Nick said that did Hermione knock over her golden goblet.
"There are house-elves here?" she said, staring, horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick. "Here at Hogwarts?"
"Certainly," said Nearly Headless Nick, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred. "
"I've never seen one!" said Hermione.
"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?" said Nearly Headless Nick. "They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning . . . see to the fires and so on . . . I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"
Hermione stared at him.
"But they get paid?" she said. "They get holidays, don't they? And - and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"
Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck.
"Sick leave and pensions?" he said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!"
Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.
"Slave labor," said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labor. "
And she refused to eat another bite, no matter what Ron said.
"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered," ("Hmph!" said Hermione) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.
"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it. "
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.
"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year. "
"What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred, George, Katie, Alicia, and Angelina, the latter of whom was looking crushed. They all were pretty sure she would have been the new captain, and since she wanted to play professionally, this was a crucial year for her to be seen by scouts. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore went on, "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 -"
But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.
Harry's jaw dropped watching as none other than Mad-Eye Moody walked into the Great Hall, and Harry watched as Mad-Eye made eye contact with him and winked, his face set in his normal scarred visage of a smile, one which Harry had grown use to, but which was now terrifying most of his fellow students.
Mad-Eye reached Dumbledore, stretched out his badly scarred hand and shook Dumbledore's hand, muttering a few things that Harry couldn't hear. After a small discussion, Mad-Eye took a seat in the one empty seat. Mad-Eye pulled a plate of sausages towards him, raised it to his nose, sniffed it, and then took out a small knife and speared a piece of sausage and began to heat.
"No bloody way," Harry muttered, and received a smack from Hermione for his language, but she too was staring up at Mad-Eye with shock. She wasn't quite as used to seeing the scarred Auror as Harry was, and still found his face unsettling.
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody. "
It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but few of the students clapped, Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys, and Harry's quidditch mates, and to his interest Marina Witcher, being the exception and only Dumbledore and Hagrid among the staff, so their light applause echoed dismally into the silence and they soon stopped. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him
Mad-Eye, of course, was completely indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome, and continued with his meal, though as Harry could see, he stuck to only drinking from his hip flask rather than risking drinking anything from the table. Harry knew he drank only from the hip flask when in public."
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, most of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye, "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. "
"You're JOKING!" said Fred loudly.
The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Mad-Eye's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar. "
McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.
"Er - but maybe this is not the time. . . no. . . " said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament. . . well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, 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. "
"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and Harry himself was far more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have 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 short-listed 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."
"I'm going for it!" Fred hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Harry could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This -" Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, 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. " His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.
"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and 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 whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"
Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.
"They can't do that!" said George, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"
"They're not stopping me from entering," said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"
"Yeah," said Ron, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons . . ."
"Come on," said Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."
"One second, Hermione," Harry said and then he quickly made his way up to where Mad-Eye and Dumbledore were finishing up their chat.
Mad-Eye gave him his normal grizzled and lopsided smile that was going to probably terrify the rest of Harry's fellow students.
"Hello lad," Mad-Eye greeted, and Harry mock-scowled at him.
"Why didn't you tell me you'd be my professor this year?" Harry asked, and Mad-Eye smirked.
"Thought I'd surprise you. Seems I did," Mad-Eye said with a shrug. "Also means that I have control of your defense work this year, so you should expect some extra assignments and different work compared to your year mates since I know what you know."
Harry actually smiled at that. Defense was his best subject, and he'd learned a lot last year with Remus, since creatures hadn't been something he'd studied a ton, but he knew in the fourth year, curses and counter curses were the main focus of study, and that was an area he was fairly advanced on. Granted, if they'd had another Lockhart, him being advanced would have saved him a lot of time, but if they'd had someone other than Mad-Eye, Harry had expected to be a bit bored this coming year in his favorite class . . . at least when it came to his in-class assignments.
"We'll be covering some things that you and I haven't covered yet," Mad-Eye said gruffly, "but for the most part, I might use you as an assistant for me, if you're available, and in turn we'll spend this year polishing up your skills while this ruddy tournament is going on."
Harry grinned at that, certainly interested in continuing his apprenticeship under Mad-Eye, and that's what it was at this time, minus a formal declaration at the Ministry, but Mad-Eye had admitted they'd do that once Harry turned seventeen and could legally do magic on his own and be eligible for an apprenticeship. Until that point, it would be unofficial, not that Harry cared one way or another.
He noticed his friends looking ready to leave so he asked one last thing.
"What happened at your place today?" Harry asked eagerly.
Mad-Eye scowled. "Something triggered my wards and my warning system. By the time Sirius and I got there, whoever it was had left. Stupid incident cost me my enchanted dustbins."
Harry snickered. "Can't have the bad guys covered in filth like the filth they are anymore?" he asked, and Mad-Eye smirked.
"Run along, lad," Mad-Eye said with a wave of his hand. "I'll see you in lessons this week, and on the grounds tomorrow morning."
Harry nodded and made his way back to Ron, Hermione, and the twins, who had patiently waited for him and quickly listened to Harry's news before they all set off for the entrance hall and talk returned to the Triwizard Tournament, Fred and George debating the ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen from entering the tournament.
"Who's this impartial judge that's going to decide who the champions are?" said Harry.
"Dunno," said Fred, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George . . ."
"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though," said Ron.
"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" said Fred shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."
"People have died, though!" said Hermione in a worried voice as they walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.
"Yeah," said Fred airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"
"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harry. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older . . . Dunno if we've learned enough . . ."
"I don't know," Harry admitted honestly. "I do think it would be cool to enter . . . but I've got enough on my plate, trying to figure out this whole shadow mage thing, and yeah I'm not sure we've learned enough. I reckon if it was just DADA, we might stand a shot . . ."
" . . . but it'll probably be all sorts of advanced magics and we probably haven't learned enough . . ." Ron finished lowly, and Harry nodded a bit gloomily.
"It's a bit rubbish though," Harry agreed with the twins. "No Quidditch, but only one person of age gets to compete this year. Plus, being seventeen now or seventeen near the end of the year accounts to basically the same thing. This way, only seventh years and some sixth years can compete, when really, they should have just made it so that sixth years and up could compete."
"That's why you've got the time to compete though," Fred pointed out. "No Quidditch. Think of all that extra time to learn what you need to learn for the tournament."
Harry and Ron both nodded slowly.
"Plus, this would be a chance to make a legacy for yourself!" George said. "Who cares what people say about you when you're the first Triwizard Tournament winner in a century!"
Harry thought about that. Making a legacy for himself . . . moving even further away from the Boy-Who-Lived moniker . . . on his own merits, like he'd done with the Dueling Circuit. That did sound nice . . . but then he thought of Dora, would she approve or not?
As much as making a legacy for himself sounded quite nice, the more he thought about it, the more he realized it mattered more to him that she had a nice calm year out of him.
They made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.
"Password?" she said as they approached.
"Balderdash," said George, "a prefect downstairs told me."
The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall through which they all climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squashy armchairs and tables. Hermione cast the merrily dancing flames a dark look, and Harry distinctly heard her mutter "Slave labor" before bidding them good night and disappearing through the doorway to the girls' dormitory.
Harry, Ron, and Neville climbed up the last, spiral staircase until they reached their own dormitory, which was situated at the top of the tower. Five four-poster beds with deep crimson hangings stood against the walls, each with its owner's trunk at the foot. Dean and Seamus were already getting into bed; Seamus had pinned his Ireland rosette to his headboard, and Dean had tacked up a poster of Viktor Krum over his bedside table. His old poster of the West Ham football team was pinned right next to it.
Harry, Ron, and Neville got into their pajamas and into bed. Someone - a house-elf, no doubt - had placed warming pans between the sheets. It was extremely comfortable, lying there in bed and listening to the storm raging outside.
"I might go in for it, you know," Ron said sleepily through the darkness, "if Fred and George find out how to . . . the tournament . . . you never know, do you?"
"S'pose not . . . but I think I'm going to just enjoy watching from afar this time."