Chapter Nine
"As I was saying," Dumbledore said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting 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.
Nessa jumped at the boom of his voice and stared at him in surprise, laughing breathlessly from shock at his outburst and she was not the only one. The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody'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…"
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.
"Er — but maybe this is not the time…no…" said Dumbledore, and Tori slapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from laughing out loud when the hall had only just gone silent again. "Where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament…well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those that do will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."
Nessa leaned forward eagerly — she did not know what the Triwizard Tournament was, to her own surprise, but the twins, Lee, and Tori looked terribly excited and it would explain the dress Mrs. Weasley had bought her.
"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?" Nessa said, shooting an alarmed look at her friends, but they hardly appeared at all concerned.
No one else seemed at all concerned about it either. Other than Hermione, who was giving her a sort of horrified look that she knew was mirrored on her own face. Everyone else was whispering excitedly to one another, and Harry was staring at Dumbledore eagerly instead of looking like he should be concerned for the fate of his classmates.
Nessa had a very strong urge to grab him by the collar and tug him out of the Hall. The last thing she needed was for him to get some insane idea to enter the tournament and end up getting himself killed for some unneeded glory. Never mind the fact that the deaths had occurred a hundred years ago. How long ago was a hundred years, really? Not long enough, as far as she was concerned.
The fact that her friends looked as though they were already considering entering was concerning enough. She did not need her brother to get any ideas of his own.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, as if Nessa's anxiety were not spiraling totally out of control. "None of which have 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 jury was still out on that one, as far as Nessa was concerned. If any of her friends or her brother were chosen, she wanted to know in great detail what steps had been taken in order to ensure this. Likely not enough.
"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 immediately, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches.
Nessa hoped — against all odds — that George would talk some sense into his brother because he was the only one who was truly able to, but he seemed as enthusiastic about the idea as Fred. This did not bode well for her year, she thought anxiously. The two of them were well on their way to insanity as it was, and they'd not likely choose not to enter given the gold at stake. They needed money for their shop and if they won, they'd not need anything else.
She was selfish for hoping that they weren't chosen because of that — because they both wanted it so badly that they practically ached for it — but her overall concern for their well-being appeared to be weighing over her rationale.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," Dumbledore 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."
There was an immediate uproar at these words, but Nessa couldn't be bothered to care. Her entire body slumped with relief. The twins were still months off from their seventeenth birthday and her brother was nowhere close. Harry didn't seem altogether too concerned — which was a good sign — but the twins looked furious. Tori didn't seem all that bothered by the restriction, but she was looking at Fred and George dubiously, as if she had severe doubts that they would comply.
Now that Nessa truly considered it, she supposed her best friend was not wrong for looking that way.
"This," Dumbledore raised his voice slightly to quit the outraged students, "is a measure we feel is necessary, given 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." Nessa relaxed further as his light blue eyes twinkled when they landed on Fred 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 Moody. 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.
Tori and Nessa shared a serious look when Fred and George did not immediately stand up with them.
"They can't do that!" George said, glaring at Dumbledore as if he'd committed murder directly in front of him. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"
Nessa, who was not at all disappointed in his inability to participate, gave Tori an imploring look. Tori opened her mouth to respond, but Fred spoke before she could say anything.
"They're not stopping me entering," he said 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 —"
"What difference does that make?" Nessa said before she could stop herself. "The two of you do whatever you want anyway!"
Tori stomped on her foot to get her to stop talking before she started an argument with the twins, but neither of them hardly seemed phased.
"That's true, we do," Fred said, nodding resolutely. "So one of us will get in regardless. A thousand Galleons prize money!"
"Potter!"
Nessa whirled angrily at the sound of his voice, her residual frustration with Fred's statement clearly clouding her judgment.
"What?" she snapped at McLaggen.
He raised an eyebrow at her.
"We have to show the first-years to the common room, remember?"
She hadn't — not after the bombshell news Dumbledore had given. She swore under her breath and gave the twins a hard look.
"Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone," she said before stomping after McLaggen to gather the attention of the first-years.
It was a chaotic experience, really. McLaggen was about as much help as a merman above water, and the first-years were easily distracted. By the older chattering students, who paid them as little mind as they would a potted plant; by the moving staircases, one of which had moved before one of them could get across so she'd been forced to yell from the other side to wait until the staircase moved again while he was mid-panic; by the moving photographs who either greeted them kindly or grumbled about "today's youth." By the time they'd made it to Gryffindor Tower, Nessa was severely losing patience with both Cormac's ineptitude and Dennis Creevey's incessant questions about her life.
"Password?" inquired the Fat Lady.
"Er — did they tell us the password?" McLaggen said, cutting off his arrogant tirade to a bored-looking first-year girl about his ability to fly in even the worst of conditions.
Nessa rolled her eyes immediately before realizing that that likely didn't earn her many points in the role of 'role model.' She took a deep breath to calm her fraying nerves and smiled at the Fat Lady, ignoring McLaggen altogether.
Raising her voice loud enough that it would carry to the first-years behind her, she said, "Balderdash."
The Fat Lady nodded to her before swinging open to reveal a hole in the wall. The first-years eyed it dubiously, and she smiled as kindly as she could through her growing overstimulation.
"Through the portrait hole," she said gently. "Cormac can go first."
"Right," he said, puffing himself up as if climbing through the portrait hole was equivalent to walking into battle in the Roman Coliseum. It took every ounce of her self-control to keep herself from rolling her eyes again. Or maybe laughing, honestly, because why did he have to act so ridiculous all the time? Nessa followed the smallest girl of the lot, bringing up the rear of the group and shuffling them forward.
Her name was Natalie if she wasn't mistaken from the Sorting and she was a very quiet girl, who seemed extremely interested in not being noticed by her peers. Nessa kept a close eye on her — if only because she reminded her a bit of herself when she'd been a first-year — as the group of them looked around the circular room with awe. It was a large room, decorated in the standard gold and red, filled with squashy armchairs and the couch that Nessa normally frequented when she was not in classes. There was already a crackling fire warming the room, the flames dancing merrily and crackling softly.
She had just opened her mouth to speak again when she was interrupted.
"Nessa!"
Nessa did not even attempt to hide her disapproving look this time. Fred, George, and Tori were sitting in the furthest corner of the common room, grinning at her like madmen. Tori had pursed her lips in an attempt to keep herself from laughing, but she raised an eyebrow at Nessa all the same, so she was as much to blame as the red-headed men that were lounging back and watching her in amusement and waving at her frantically as if they hadn't seen her in ten years.
Nessa rolled her eyes.
"Right, well, first order of business," she said to the first-years in front of her, who were eyeing the three older students in the corner with bemused interest. "That's Fred and George Weasley — stay well clear of them. They think themselves something funny, but they can't tell you the difference between their own faces and a hippogriff's behind —"
Tori erupted in laughter as Fred and George straightened up indignantly and some of the first-years giggled.
"OI!"
"Don't let her fool you," Tori whispered loudly to the closest girl, her face split in a mocking sort of grin. "She finds them quite dashing. George is her boyfriend."
Tori said the last word as if it were a scandalous secret and wiggled her eyebrows for emphasis, causing every girl in the group to turn to her and giggle excitedly. Nessa glared at Tori in reproach, ignoring the heat in her cheeks at the delighted attention she was getting from the younger students.
"Knock it off, you three," she said with an eye roll. "Now, pay attention, the whole lot of you because if you get stuck outside of the common room, these three idiots behind me will be the first to laugh at you."
"Hear, hear," Fred said with a grin.
The first-years gave the three of them a nervous look before facing her again with clear concentration.
"The Fat Lady only opens with the password — in the event that McLaggen's riveting Quidditch commentary distracted you, the password is Balderdash," McLaggen grinned at them all as if she'd said something that pleased him a great deal. She took this as a sign that she had managed to hide her ire for him well enough to mask it as a compliment, although Tori had picked up on it based on her snort. "The password is subject to change at any time, so make sure you check the bulletin board every morning before you leave the common room. The password should never be shared with anyone who is not in Gryffindor House, nor are you permitted to write them down —"
"Ah, yes, big incident with Sirius Black because of —"
Nessa stomped on McLaggen's foot, hard, when some of the first-years started whispering frightfully at this.
"He's joking," she said, firmly. "You're safer at Hogwarts than you are anywhere else in the world. Writing the password down could result in other students learning how to enter the common room, and would be a large hassle to fix. Are we clear?"
Not all of them appeared totally assured that McLaggen's statement had been a joke — which she might kill him for later — but they nodded anyway.
"Use the common room at your leisure, but each of you should be back to the tower by curfew every evening, which is nine p.m. for first and second year students —"
"Ten p.m. after that," McLaggen added helpfully. "Unless you have express permission from a teacher to be outside of your common room any later than that."
Nessa refrained from looking surprised at the, for once, helpful remark from him in the entirety of the night.
"Right," she said slowly, giving him an odd look. "You can leave the tower any time after five a.m., but breakfast isn't served until six. If you're the kind of lunatic who wakes up any earlier than five, don't go stomping down the stairs —"
"Nessa is very grumpy without her beauty sleep," George said helpfully from behind her, sending the first-years into another round of giggling.
Nessa rolled her eyes, but did not bother denying the statement.
"Quiet hours in the common room begin at ten every evening," she continued as if she hadn't heard him entirely. "As far as dormitories go, the boys' dormitory is to the left," — she pointed to the spiraling staircase to the left of her — "and the girls' dormitory to the right. First door on the way up for first years. Questions, comments, concerns?"
When no one answered, McLaggen clapped to signal the end of their meeting.
"Right, well, then I suppose I'll just be off to bed then," he said before bounding up the boys' staircase.
Nessa gave Tori a long-suffering expression.
"Right," she said to the first years. "Classes start at eight a.m. sharp. If you need help finding them, ask a prefect or the Head Boy and Girl. They should be wearing their badges. The professors won't take being new as an excuse for tardiness. If these three behind me tell you that they're prefects, they're lying to you. And they have no idea how to turn people into cockroaches as far as I'm aware either. It's in your best interest to take anything they say with a large grain of salt, yes? Off you go, then."
They scattered immediately toward their respective staircases, and Nessa waited until they'd all disappeared before rounding on her three friends with hands on her hips.
"What do the three of you think you're doing?"
"Providing moral support, of course," Fred said innocently. "And why'd you go and tell them we can't turn them into cockroaches? How are we supposed to get them to carry our books now?"
"You aren't," Nessa griped. "If you're too weak to carry them yourself, then perhaps you ought to take better care of yourself."
"A very responsible approach," Tori said sagely. "You're growing into a prefect right before my very eyes."
Nessa rolled her eyes.
"The prefect jokes are losing their edge, you know," she said, sighing heavily as she sat in the chair next to George and rubbing the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "Although, honestly, it's not so bad except McLaggen kept trying to argue with one of the first-years about how to properly use the Wronski Feint."
"Well, that boy will be in the hospital wing with a broken leg by the end of the week then," Tori said with an eye roll. "What was McGonagall thinking, giving a badge to him?"
"I haven't the foggiest," Nessa said heavily. "But if this is what I have to look forward to, then I need to sleep. He'll be next to useless tomorrow when all of the first years are running around like chickens with their heads cut off."
"Good point," Tori said, coming to a stand and pulling Nessa up by her arm. "If you'll excuse us, boys, we have a tradition to uphold."
The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling of the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Nessa took a seat across from Fred, George, and Lee the next morning and examined their course schedules.
"We've got a free period after lunch at least," Tori said thankfully.
"I'm sure that's not out of the kindness of their hearts," Nessa said, grabbing a goblet of water. "Having three free periods a week is anything but a good sign."
"I think the fact that some of them are double free periods is a bit more frightening, honestly," Tori said, frowning at her Thursday and Friday portions. "Right before the weekend. Cannot be a good sign."
"At least you don't have Quidditch practices," Nessa groused at her. "Why couldn't they have picked prefects in the sixth year instead?"
"Push comes to shove, we'll just get caught bullying first-years and they'll take your badge away," Tori said seriously, buttering a piece of toast. "Might be a disgrace, but at least you'll have your wits about you."
"I hardly think that's true if I've been bullying first-years," Nessa said, rolling her eyes. "I knew I should have dropped Arithmancy."
Tori snorted.
"I told you not to take three electives into O.W.L.s, didn't I?" she said smugly. "You never listen to me, do you?"
"Well, of course not! The last time I listened to you, I ended up with hot pink hair hiding from Filch in his office!"
"I told you that that was a mistake," Tori huffed. "My aim was off —"
"Off!" Nessa scoffed. "Bletchley was nowhere near that statue that that spell ricocheted off. What you need is glasses, Victoria. Or anger management classes."
"Would it make you feel better to give me hot pink hair outside Filch's office?"
"It would, actually," Nessa admitted. "If I make it through this year, that can be my reward."
Tori rolled her eyes to the ceiling and opened her mouth to respond, but Fred's voice cut her off.
"How is it possible that the two of you have gone loopy before classes have even started?"
Nessa and Tori glared at him simultaneously, their bickering totally forgotten. The twins and Lee were looking at the two of them as if they'd been trying to get a word in edgewise for the last five minutes and were afraid they might lose a limb. Nessa's eyes zeroed in on the piece of parchment in front of them almost immediately and she snagged it before any of them could stop her.
"What is this?" she snapped.
Fred and Lee shared a cautious look with George.
"Don't look at me," he said defensively. "I'm not the only one taking it!"
Newt spleens…bananas…yellow snake…
"Incendio!" she muttered, causing the parchment to catch fire in her hands.
"Hey!" Fred said angrily. "What was that for?"
"You know good and well what it was for!" Nessa snapped back. "Dumbledore made it very clear that you aren't old enough —"
"By a few months —" George argued heatedly.
"I don't care if it were a few days. You aren't making an Ageing Potion to get into the tournament!"
"You're taking this prefect thing far too seriously," Fred said hotly.
Nessa snorted.
"It has not a goddamn thing to do with me being a prefect, Fred, and everything to do with the fact that I have enough to worry about without watching the two of you break your necks in some ridiculous, barbaric tournament that you weren't old enough to be in in the first place," She pointed her fork at him in warning when he opened his mouth again, looking furious, and said, "And, for the record, the next time you bring up me being a prefect, I'll shove your head so far up your own arse that it'll come back to sit on your shoulders, is that clear enough for you? Or do you need a demonstration?"
Nessa could tell based on the look of irritation on George's face and the furious glint in Fred's eyes that one of them was going to continue arguing with her. Tori, who normally quite enjoyed watching people argue, was gaping at the three of them in surprise, and Lee had opened his Potions textbook and was holding it awkwardly in front of his face in order to avoid Nessa's line of fire.
But before either of the twins could respond with whatever ridiculous reason they'd thought up as an injustice against them, there was an amused cough from behind them.
"Am I interrupting something?" Cedric said, looking between the five of them with raised eyebrows.
"Yes, Diggory, thank you," Tori said hastily before anyone else could answer. "Do you want my muffin?"
Nessa snorted when Cedric gave her an odd look before taking the seat next to her.
"I'm good, Hastings," he said before giving Nessa a questioning look that made her laugh. "I was actually just coming to talk to you."
"Well, of course, he was," George muttered under his breath, his sour mood clearly not made better by this admission.
Nessa shot him a mutinous glare before looking at Cedric again.
"Excuse him," she said pointedly. "He and Fred are in the middle of a tantrum. What did you need?"
Cedric hesitated a moment, looking between her, Fred, and George cautiously, as if he wished he could be anywhere other than where he was right at that moment.
"Well, I know we hadn't discussed it, but I was going to ask about Potions tutoring," he said. "At least until the Tournament —"
"The Tournament?" Nessa said curiously. "Are you going to enter?"
"I'm of age in a few weeks," he shrugged with a grin. Fred and George were looking at him as if he'd deliberately chosen his own birthday to trick his way into entering. "Can't hurt to try, can it?"
"I heard the opposite, actually," she replied dryly. "But sure, I can tutor you again. As long as you're prepared for me to whinge the entire year about studying for exams."
"So no different than last year then," Cedric quipped, snagging a strawberry from her plate before she could smack his hand in reproach. He grinned through his chewing when she glared at him and tried to push him off the bench. "You've a free period Thursday?"
"Thursday's fine," she said dismissively. "Before dinner because I have to patrol the corridors Thursday nights apparently."
Cedric grinned and gave her a one-armed hug.
"Congratulations on becoming a prefect," he said, coming to a stand and throwing his bag over his shoulder. "I've got to run if I want to make it to Divination. See you Thursday afternoon, gorgeous. Oh, and I'm not sure who you were talking to, but please don't shove any heads up anyone's arse."
Nessa pursed her lips to keep from laughing and rolled her eyes at him as he disappeared with a wave. She'd regret agreeing to tutor him again when she was eyes deep in homework, but at least she could consider it a form of studying.
By the time she turned back toward the table, George was glaring at her, but she wasn't entirely sure why, considering Fred was looking between the two of them nervously and clearly had gotten over their earlier spat. For the moment anyway.
"What?" Nessa snapped.
Tori shot up from the table hastily.
"Got to get to History of Magic before I'm late," she said loudly. Nessa gave her an odd look — class didn't start for another half an hour.
Fred and Lee were up the next second, standing so hastily that their knees hit the bottom of the table and rattled the goblets.
"Me too," Lee said.
"We'll come with you," Fred said at the same time, slapping his brother on the back and hurrying off with the two of them.
George snorted and rolled his eyes.
"What the hell was that?" Nessa said, watching the three of them exit the hall and turn toward the courtyard instead of taking the staircase.
"Probably off to throw a tantrum."
Nessa took a slow breath in through her nose to keep her irritation with him in check as she looked back at him. He wasn't looking at her anymore, glaring at the place where his twin and best friends had disappeared instead, which helped a little because if he glared at her again, she was likely to lose it.
And she probably shouldn't have said he was throwing a tantrum as if he were a child. Especially not to someone she knew he wasn't particularly fond of as it was.
"It was a poor choice of words on my part," she said as calmly as she was able because she was still irritated by his continued attempts to enter the Tournament, although, truthfully, she had no idea why she'd expected anything less from him. He was steadfast in every single one of his ideas, and, unfortunately for her, this quality typically accomplished a great many of them, no matter how stupid. "I'm sorry —"
"That's not really the point," he said with an eye roll.
"Then what are you bringing it up for?" she replied in irritation. "I'm not arguing about the Tournament again, if that's what this is about."
"You weren't arguing before," he snapped back. "You were ordering, more like —"
"That's hardly true," she said indignantly. "I took your parchment away —"
"And lit it on fire."
"I know what I did with it, George, and I'll do it again," she said with an eye roll. "You aren't allowed to enter —"
"Oh, but Diggory is?"
Nessa paused for a moment to stare at him.
"Is that what this is?" she said in exasperation. "What difference does it make what Cedric is doing? He's of age in a few weeks, so yes, he's allowed to enter, if that's what you're asking, but I don't see how that's my fault. I didn't set the age restriction, George."
"We're in the same year! If Diggory can do it, then what makes you think I can't?"
Nessa gaped at him.
"What are you — I never said you couldn't do anything!" she said. "What I believe about your magical prowess has nothing to do with it! You aren't seventeen —"
"I'm aware of my age, thanks," George said shortly. "You didn't even bother telling him not to enter, but it's a big deal if we do, as if we haven't learned the same things as him in the last six years. What difference does six months make?"
"Let me get this straight," Nessa laughed humorlessly. "You're angry because I care about your well-being more than his? Make that make sense to me, George. Please. I am not dating, Cedric —"
"You aren't dating Fred either."
She gave him a dark look.
"Look me in my face right now and tell me that if Fred died in one of those tasks that you wouldn't die with him," she said flatly. George winced, and she took that as answer enough. "That's what I thought. And unfortunately for the both of you, I happen to be far fonder of the two of you than I am of Cedric, so I suppose that's a great burden to you. My apologies." There was a flash of something across his face, but she was already standing and slinging her backpack over her shoulder. "Say whatever you want, George, but if you were seventeen, I wouldn't stop you from entering. If you'd like to convince yourself it has anything to do with Cedric Diggory then that's your prerogative, but I have no interest in helping you do that. Do us both a favor and don't talk to me until you're done putting me in the middle of your and Cedric's pissing contest."
She whirled before he could say anything and nearly ran directly into Natalie behind her.
"Natalie — I — I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"
Natalie was looking nervously between her and George, chewing her bottom lip and wringing her backpack strap in her hands.
"Er — sorry, I just have Transfiguration and I couldn't find — and you said to find a prefect if — I didn't realize you were fighting — I mean, talking — I mean, I didn't hear anything — I'll just go —"
The younger girl looked horribly awkward, and it nearly made her laugh, despite her mortification that there was a great deal of students in the Great Hall, looking in her and George's direction. Based on their whispering, she assumed they hadn't been as quiet as they likely should have been, considering the public location.
Her anger with George and her mortification disappeared, however, at the sight of Natalie turning to rush away from them.
"No, wait!" she said hastily. "Natalie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean — You haven't done anything wrong. I can show you to class, okay? I'm going in that direction anyway."
The younger girl hesitated, her eyes scanning Nessa's face as if she were looking for some indication that she was lying. She shot a nervous look at George before nodding weakly.
"Come on," Nessa said, shuffling her in the direction of the double doors without a glance backward at George. "McGonagall doesn't stand for tardiness."
The first day back had not gotten better as the day progressed.
Not all of it was entirely due to the fact that she and George were not currently on speaking terms, hours after breakfast had ended. Her course schedule had been one she wouldn't have wished for on a Monday. History of Magic had been dull as usual, Potions would have been fine if she hadn't pounded her Horklump so ferociously in her still simmering anger and ended up squeezing entirely too much juice out of it that her potion had melted the bottom of her cauldron. Snape, who was also another cause for her irritation at the current moment, had looked at her as if he didn't recognize her at all before giving her the first zero she'd ever earned in Potions class.
By the time she'd made it to Ancient Runes, her head had been pounding, her anger had dissolved into anxiety, and Tori was eyeing her cautiously out of the corner of her eye as if she half expected her to start throwing around curses at any moment.
Not to mention, she had been entirely correct in her assumption that McLaggen would be next to useless in helping with the nervous, near hysterical first years. He was too busy talking to his friends to notice when one of them walked up to ask him a question, which, of course, meant they immediately turned to Nessa instead. She'd been helping first-years navigate the castle so much that it was starting to feel more like she was the one that had had her head cut off.
She seriously considered skipping out on dinner and heading to the Astronomy Tower in an attempt to decompress, but she'd already skipped lunch, she was already ankles deep in homework, and adding a migraine to the mix did not sound like her best idea yet.
"You can't mope all day, Nessa," Tori said. "Fred and George will get over it by morning and —"
She paused, her eyes narrowing, when they reached the Entrance Hall. Nessa followed her gaze to the group of six standing in the very center — Harry, Ron, and Hermione all glaring at a clearly gloating Draco Malfoy, flanked by his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Everyone in the entrance hall was listening to whatever he was reading on the paper he held in front of him, so Tori and Nessa shoved through until they could hear it themselves.
"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley," Malfoy was crowing. "It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?"
Nessa had not a clue what he was talking about, but Ron was shaking with rage and Harry and Hermione were glaring at him ferociously. Nessa understood why when Malfoy began reading again.
Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policeman") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.
"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house — if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"
Nessa grabbed Tori's wrist in warning, so quickly that there was an obvious sound of her palm hitting Tori's skin that caused the people standing near them to look over in alarm. Tori was shaking with anger herself and most of the students around them took several steps back from her just in case.
"Oh, yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy to her brother. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"
Nessa swore when Tori growled under her breath, tugging hard on her wrist to try and get her wand out of her pocket. Nessa really should work on her arm strength because Tori was seriously overpowering her at the moment. Even if her best friend needed that strength in order to play Chaser, it was horribly embarrassing.
"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Harry, who had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy, Hermione attempting to do the same on Ron's other side. "That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"
Tori's struggling halted, a smirk blooming on her face, as Malfoy's face pinkened at the insult.
"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."
"Keep your fat mouth shut then," Harry replied, turning away.
Nessa saw the wand pointed at her brother's back far too late, but she lunged anyway, forcing Tori to grab her around the waist from behind and dig in her heels to keep her from tackling Malfoy to the ground. The spell missed her brother by a millimeter, but it did nothing to dim her outrage.
While his back had been turned!
"Nessa, for Merlin's sake," Tori gasped. "You're a prefect now, you can't just —"
There was a loud BANG, and a roar that echoed throughout the hall that cut her best friend off and made her brother whirl around.
"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"
Nessa's rage dimmed to some form of shocked horror as Professor Moody, looking livid, limped down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been seconds before.
"Is that —" Tori said, her voice shaking with suppressed glee.
There was a terrified silence in the hall from everyone else. No one but Moody moved a muscle. Nessa tensed when the ex-Auror focused his attention on her brother with his normal eye, the other one rolled back into his head.
"Did he get you?" Moody growled, his voice low and gravelly.
"No," said Harry, "missed."
"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.
Harry startled, looking bewildered.
"Leave — what?"
"Not you — him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret.
Nessa had been so zeroed in on her brother that she hadn't even noticed he'd moved, but Moody's magical eye would have to have been able to see through the back of his head in order to know what Crabbe was doing…
Moody started to limp toward the three Slytherins, and Malfoy, still a ferret, squeaked in terror and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.
"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again — it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more. Nessa gaped in horror at the sight before her. On one hand, it was Malfoy and he could likely use some sort of bruise to his ego. On another, it was entirely unethical to do that to a student as if he were nothing more than a plaything. It reminded her almost horribly of the way the Death Eaters had terrified those Muggles at the World Cup.
"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…"
The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.
"Never — do — that — again —" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.
"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.
There was a sort of relief to hear Professor McGonagall's voice because Nessa was totally unfamiliar with how she should be handling this situation entirely. It felt wrong to allow it to keep happening, but the man was her professor, so what could she do?
"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.
"What — what are you doing?" said McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.
"Teaching," said Moody.
"Teach — Moody, is that a student?" shrieked McGonagall, the books she'd been holding spilling out of her arms entirely.
"Yep," said Moody.
"No!" cried McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud, snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing. "Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment! Surely, Professor Dumbledore told you that?"
"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly. "But I thought a good sharp shock —"
"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"
"I'll do that, then," said Malfoy, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.
And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons, making it clear to him that he both knew his father from old and knew Snape as well. Malfoy didn't appear to find this at all comforting, but Tori looked delighted.
"He just turned him into a ferret," she said in an awestruck voice. "Did you just see that?"
Nessa snorted.
"Yes, I was here the whole time," she said. "It's not an image that's likely to leave my head any time soon —"
"You sound suspiciously like you're going to say but, so let's skip that and get dinner instead," Tori said seriously. "All of my dreams have just come true, and your rational do-gooder will ruin that for me."
Nessa rolled her eyes.
"I am not a do-gooder," she said defensively. "I was going to tackle him, wasn't I? Besides, its —"
Nessa halted outside the doors to the Great Hall and Tori sighed heavily. Fred, George, and Lee had rounded the corner of the dungeons, whispering over some new piece of parchment and forcing students to move out of the way of them or risk being walked over due to their concentration.
She hardly had to guess what the parchment was, and she hadn't talked to any of them since breakfast that morning, which she tried not to be too upset about because she hadn't had a free period today, even though she knew the twins had most of their days wide open given how many O.W.L.s they'd gotten.
She was nowhere near ready or prepared to have another argument with them, and she had a very suspicious feeling that whatever they were holding would be another list of ingredients they'd need for an aging potion. And, considering they didn't take Potions this year, she wanted to know even less what they were doing in the dungeon.
Fred looked up mid-sentence and locked eyes with her. There was a moment of hesitation before he smirked and held the parchment out to her.
"Are you going to burn this one too? We'll have to start stashing them then."
Tori glared at him and opened her mouth to say something, likely to at least attempt to be civil, but Nessa was too exhausted with the arguing at this point.
"I'm not hungry, actually," she said to Tori, who turned to glare at her instead. "I'll see you in the common room. I need to start on Snape's essay anyway."
"Nessa, don't —"
Nessa didn't bother waiting for Tori to reprimand her for starving herself in an attempt to avoid another argument and took off up the marble staircase instead. Her best friend did not bother lowering her voice for her benefit when she turned to the twins and said, "Great job, Fred! She hasn't eaten all day!" as if Fred Weasley were entirely to blame for this. Which might have been more irritating if not for the fact that she was currently trying to run away as fast as possible, and that really didn't leave her much time to tell her best friend that she'd eaten breakfast, so the statement wasn't entirely true. Not to mention entirely useless because one meal a day was hardly enough, especially when she'd cut her breakfast short.
Instead of going to the common room to work on her homework as she said she was, she took a hard left at the top of the 7th floor and made her way up the spiraling staircase of the Astronomy Tower. Her sanctuary for this year, she hoped, because the library was going to get very dull once she'd gotten into the year and was deep in essays. As it stood, she already had two feet for Snape due on Thursday and a foot for Binns on something she didn't even remember. And a chapter of Ancient Runes to translate before next week.
Truthfully, she probably should have been going to the common room to do homework. It was the rational, sensible thing to do — but the first day back had felt more like the seventh circle of hell and she wasn't likely to get anything done with her head racing and her anxiety seconds away from boiling over. The stress of it all was beginning to pile in her shoulders and temples, but the moment the cool night air hit her face, she sagged in relief and threw her bag into a corner of the tower before taking a seat on the ground and leaning back into the wall behind her.
It was a little humid, although the day had been much worse after the storm, but there was a steady breeze that made it a bit less noticeable. There were still another few hours to sunset, so she couldn't see any of the stars when she looked up, but she liked the contrast of a dark blue sky with the line of bright yellow below the sun as it neared the horizon, and the silence surrounding her eased some of the pressure in her head.
It had been probably the worst first day back to school that she'd ever experienced. The fight with the twins had colored her day in irritation and despair, and she was sure that that had something to do with the fact that she felt so close to spiraling. She'd only barely managed to get through the day without snapping at McLaggen for being a horrible waste of space. She might have scared a Ravenclaw first year when she'd sworn viciously when she had to go back to the dungeons after forgetting her textbook there, and, in turn, been late to Ancient Runes. Not to mention having to deal with Snape — who appeared to have gotten more vindictive over the summer, although she had no idea what for — and the fact that she now had to order another cauldron because the school ones were always off-kilter, and she was a perfectionist when it came to potion-making.
When it rained, it poured, she supposed. And it had been a long while since she'd had such a horrible day, so it was likely just all of the good days coming back to bite her.
God, she was dramatic. She needed to pull herself out of her self-pity before she truly dug herself in too deep. She had far better things to be worrying about that weren't hiding away in the Astronomy Tower and avoiding Fred and George.
Her homework, her brother's first day back because she hadn't talked to him at all today, figuring out what she was supposed to tell McGonagall in the next few weeks about her career path, write to Remus again because he hadn't answered her back, so he had no idea about Harry's scar or the fact that they'd been at the Quidditch World Cup…
She could take her pick, really. The only thing she was really good at was worrying about everything under the sun.
But, no, Fred and George had been the ones to send her over the edge.
Fighting with one or the other was awful enough but fighting with both of them felt worse than being trampled by a horde of hippogriffs. And, really, she didn't know why she bothered being so emotional about the entire thing. She'd known the two of them would try to enter the moment she'd seen their faces after Dumbledore had advised that they shouldn't bother wasting their time. Being told they couldn't do something was more motivating to the Weasley twins than a food pellet was to a rat. And she'd yet to see anything that scared them into behaving. Mix that with their stubbornness, and they could accomplish anything they wanted.
And George hadn't been entirely incorrect this morning, although his continued jealousy of Cedric still made her want to hit her head against the wall. They were in the same year, and they had learned all of the same things, so if they did manage to get into the tournament, they likely would be just as prepared as anyone else in their year. And Nessa strongly suspected that the age limit was really more of a protection against litigation for the Ministry and for Hogwarts, or they could have just capped the requirement at being at least a sixth year student.
But her anger on the subject had less to do with them breaking the rules — because really how did one be friends with the Weasley twins if they had a strong passion for the rules? — and more to do with the fact that them being a part of something that had a 'death toll' would send her spiraling into a well of worry.
She was a chronic worrier, a spaz, really. And she could care less what Dumbledore said, they couldn't guarantee any of the tasks couldn't be fatal. One mistake, one split second, could be the difference between life and death. Or between losing a limb, ending up with brain damage, or any number of other issues that could change someone's life forever. The thought of watching any of her friends risk their lives or their safety for a thousand Galleons and a bit of glory that would fade over the summer was something that she didn't think she could truly handle.
Although maybe that was entirely selfish of her. The twins needed the money for their shop, and based on their magical skill and knowledge, they were just as qualified as Cedric was. They deserved to make their dreams a reality more than anyone else she'd ever met, and that money would be a huge step in getting them there.
Was it fair of her to dissuade them from doing something just because she wanted to spare herself pain and worry? It wouldn't be the first time she'd overreacted to something.
She wasn't likely to figure it out any time soon, so she just sighed heavily and stared up at the sky as if it held all the answers she was looking for.
So caught up in staring into space, she didn't even realize how many hours she'd been sitting out there, watching the sky turn a darker and darker blue before lines of gold and orange and red colored the sky in a beautiful kaleidoscope of color. Nor did she really connect the dots that she could hear the sounds of cicadas and she'd been looking up at an entirely black sky with bright spots of white. She just stared and stared without a single thought, completely disassociating from herself and her surroundings.
Which was the reason she was blaming her startled scream at the sound of a voice behind her.
"I thought I'd find you up here."
Nessa stared, wide-eyed, at her brother, who immediately had whipped out his wand at the sound of her scream.
"Blimey, Nessa, what was that for?" he said in exasperation, relaxing a little when he realized there was no one else up there with them.
"You startled me!" she replied defensively, her hand lying over her pounding heart. "What are you doing up here?"
Harry gave her a hard look and made his way over to her, holding some sort of paper bag in his hand, and took a seat next to her.
"Well, you didn't come back to the common room," he said, handing her the bag he'd brought with him. "And Tori said you hadn't eaten since breakfast."
She blinked back the tears in her eyes at the sight of the contents in the bag. A carefully wrapped turkey sandwich, a bag of salted crisps, an apple, and a bag of homemade granola.
"Thank you," she said instead, trying to keep her voice steady so that he didn't pick up on her emotional instability. He was always so uncomfortable with displays of emotion.
He either didn't pick up on it or he pretended he didn't because he simply shrugged nonchalantly.
"I grabbed it before leaving for dinner, so it's probably not the best, but I sort of expected you to come back to the common room before nine o'clock."
"It's nine o'clock?" Nessa said in surprise, through a mouthful of her stale turkey sandwich.
Harry gave her another weird look.
"How long, exactly, have you been up here?" he said eventually, looking her over in concern.
"I can't feel anything below my hips, so awhile," she said, continuing to eat as if she hadn't eaten in weeks rather than hours.
"I — er — I heard you and George had an argument," Harry said, awkwardly. "In the Great Hall this morning. Is that, uh, is that why you're hiding up here?"
Nessa didn't answer him for a long moment, staring out in front of her again, as she made her way through her bag of crisps and then moved to the granola.
"It's been a rough day," she said eventually. "Not just because of the fight with George, but it certainly doesn't help."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Nessa had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. The gesture itself was sweet, and she knew he would talk to her about it if she wanted, but the look on his face suggested that he would truly rather be doing anything else.
"It's nothing," she said dismissively. "We just have different opinions on whether they should be trying to trick the judge or not."
"Right," he said slowly. "And, just to be clear, this has nothing to do with you being a prefect?"
Nessa rolled her eyes and huffed.
"No," she said for what felt like the hundredth time. "I wish everyone would stop pretending like I'm living and breathing the role of prefect. I didn't even want the badge to begin with, and now everything I do or feel is because of it and not because I have my own opinions about —"
"Alright, alright," Harry said in alarm, holding his palms out in placation. "Sorry I asked. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page, is all."
They lapsed into silence as she worked her way through the contents of her dinner.
"If it helps, George looks miserable," Harry said again. "I saw Fred hit him upside the head at least six times to focus on whatever scheme they're working on."
Nessa smirked.
"It helps a little," she admitted, finishing off her apple.
"Not that this is any of my business," Harry said cautiously. "But is it really a big deal if they enter? It couldn't hurt —"
"Don't you dare take their side, Harry!" she said with an eye roll. "And if this means that you're going to try and enter too then —"
"I'm not," he snorted. "I don't need any more attention than I already get."
Nessa tried to pretend like this assurance didn't make her want to cry from relief. The last thing she needed was for an Ageing Potion to work and have her brother following in her friends' footsteps.
"All I'm saying is that there's no guarantee that even if they do get past the judge that they'll be chosen. Or that they'll be able to trick them at all," he said seriously. "And I'm not sure arguing is the best way to get through to them anyway. I think they quite enjoy doing what people don't want them to."
She sighed heavily because she'd already thought the same thing earlier, but it didn't make anything about it any easier. And it solved her issue with Fred if she apologized, but she and George still had other things to unpack that she didn't particularly want to get into.
"I can't pretend to be okay with this, Harry," she said truthfully. "Maybe it's irrational, but I don't like the thought of them entering. Even if the chances are low they'll be picked."
Harry sighed.
"Just don't avoid each other for months like you and George did last year," he said seriously. "That whole thing was stupid." She rolled her eyes but didn't bother disagreeing. "And, for the record…I'm always on your side. Say the word and I'll go back down there and turn him into a slug."
She laughed loudly, some of the tension leaving her body again, and leaned to rest her head on his shoulder.
"I appreciate it, but let's hold off on that for the moment," she said, still grinning. "But thank you."
There were several seconds of warm silence after that before Harry spoke again.
"So, is it okay to talk about Malfoy being a ferret now, then?"
Angst round one. George and Nessa fighting is difficult to write. But I've always known this day would come; I've been anticipating it since CoS. Fred being stupid on top of it is just icing on the cake. Teenage angst and drama is something else.
I have also told myself not to put Cedric through the ringer, all things considered. BUT I cannot do it. I live for the drama — it's a character flaw.
Up next: Unforgivable Curses