Author's Commentary: This story made me write Icelandic poetry to the alliterative style of Old Norse galdralag. What even is my life?

On that note, I apologize to any Icelandic readers if I butchered the language on Google translate

Saturday November 12th, 1994

Astrid's look was incredulous, "You want to learn Járnsmiðs Eldurinn?"

"Ya-huh," Melissa gave a heavy nod. "Lev says it's what blacksmith's use to infuse their forge with magic, so I want to learn it."

Astrid stared at her for a long time. "...You are very strange."

Melissa gave her a cheeky smile, "So I've been told."

With a face of wide-eyed incredulity, a long breath left her nostrils. "Alright, I guess we learn Járnsmiðs Eldurinn today. You have the sheet music for it?"

Said music was promptly displayed in Melissa's readied hand. Astrid still looked at her in disbelief, but she was willing to play along and help Melissa build a small fire to get started.

The Blacksmith's Fire might seem like a strange spellsong for a Londoner to learn, but for Melissa it made perfect sense! From the initial research she did to complete her ISP proposal, she found references to using magic in many stages of amulet creation, among other things. With metallomagy, for instance, many cultures use chants to bolster a forge's flames. It was a sound idea in Melissa's mind. Afterall, a phoenix song in itself is its own form of magic, so why wouldn't she use magic in all stages of her phoenix-based creation?

…Maybe even in the end results?

That particular idea needs more research and experimentation; but it just might work! …Until then, she has to start with learning the basics to bake a parting stone.

"Incendio!" The wood caught in a flash. Its kindling burned up quickly, and the surrounding log cabin wasn't long to follow. Once the flames looked established, the girls readied their music. "Alright," she gave the balalaika a quick strum, "let's play!"

"Ha! Slow down, Melissa. Let us see if you can even say the words properly."

"Ugh, alright, fine!" This is what I get after accidentally killing some fish, she supposed. Still, it's not her fault that ð and Þ sound practically the same!

Astrid flashed a laughing smile, but held back actual laughter as she went through the Icelandic chant one line at a time.

"Ég kem til að aðstoða,"

"Ég kem til að aþa-astoða." On seeing a disapproving look, Melissa whined "Oh, come on, it's practically a tongue-twister to do that many th's!"

"Try it again, but slowly."

"Ugh, fine. Ég kem til að… að-sto-ða." With a reassuring nod her way, she said it again. "Ég kem til að aðstoða,"

I come to aid

"Eldsmiður."

"Eldsmiður," the Fire-Beater. A kenning term for a blacksmith.

"Það þarf eld í þessa smiðju."

"Þaþ… Það þarf eld í þessa smiðju."

This forge needs a fire.

"Komdu með styrk sólarinnar."

"Komdu með styrk sólarinnar,"

Bring the strength of the sun,

"að hita þessa smiðju,"

"að hita þessa smiðju,"

to heat this forge,

"svo að hann megi vopna oss vopnum,"

"svo að hann megi… vopna oss vopnum,"

so that he can arm us with weapons,

"svo hann geti gert galdra."

"svo hann geti gert galdra."

So that he can make magic.

Astrid gave her a nod. "Okay, now all together." They ran through the lyrics a few times until Astrid gave a satisfactory nod. "Good work. Now, we will sing it."

They moved to focus on the campfire itself. Then, with plucked notes, they sung in unison.

"Ég kem til að aðstoða

Eldsmiður.

Það þarf eld í þessa smiðju.

Komdu með styrk sólarinnar,

að hita þessa smiðju,

svo að hann megi vopna oss vopnum,

svo hann geti gert galdra."

The fire grew brighter. Emboldened, they repeated the chant. Each time they did so it got hotter and hotter. It got so hot that it suddenly burst high in a loud WHOOSH! They jumped in surprise at the sudden change; and looked on incredulously as the wood burned to a crisp- causing the fire to run out of fuel and die shortly after.

"Umm…" Astrid bit her lip, "this probably works best in a proper smiðja."

"Yeah… that makes sense." Melissa gave a nervous chuckle. "I'm half-tempted to see if the groundskeeper has a forge. That'd be useful. Though if he just offers his chimney, we'd probably burn his house down."

Astrid gave a small snort. "Hopefully we do not do that, but we can ask him. He's that tall man?"

"Mhmm. Don't be intimidated by him, though. He's basically a giant, loud, teddy bear."

"A what?"

"A toy bear. He's harmless. Come on, let's go ask him."

The girls walked over to Hagrid's hut, slightly shivering as the clouds turned to rain. Perhaps November isn't the smartest time to be trying to do fire magic outside? All the more reason Melissa was hopeful for an actual forge to practise with.

"Do you think I could pull it off in English?"

"As in, translating Járnsmiðs Eldurinn?"

"Not an exact one, obviously; but if a chant follows the right metre, alliteration pattern, and I throw in a good kenning, does the language used make a difference?"

"Hmm," Astrid thought it over. "Wizards have made new galdralag songs over the years, and not all are Norse. I suppose it is possible."

"Wicked!" Melissa grinned as calculative thoughts swirled in her mind, "I'm going to work on that, then. See what can match the music I've already written."

They soon arrived at Hagrid's hut. She rapped her knuckles against the door, prompting loud barks from Hagrid's hound. Fortunately it didn't make it past the big man himself as he opened up the door. "Well 'ello there, Melissa. Young Miss," he nodded to Astrid, as both answered with their own greetings. "Come on in, 'fore ye catch cold."

The girls gratefully stepped inside, especially so as the groundskeeper already had a fire going. Melissa suppressed a laugh as Astrid looked about the hut in surprise at the size of all of the furniture inside. Melissa covered her by walking close to Hagrid to thank him for his hospitality.

"It's no trouble. Now, wha' brings ye girls here?"

"We were wondering if you have a forge somewhere on the grounds?" Melissa asked. "Like, a blacksmith forge to make stuff out of metal."

"A forge, eh? Hmm… Nope. Can't say I do. It'd be mighty interesting to learn 'ow, though." The man looked thoughtful. "Certainly got the strength for it. Doubt the 'eadmaster can afford to put one in, though. Bit expensive, innit?"

"Probably," Melissa agreed. "Never hurts to ask-" her body lurched forward all of a sudden. She managed to catch herself against an armchair, but she looked green with an urge to throw up.

"Blimey! Ye alright, lass?"

"I'm-" words strangled in her throat as she fought the overwhelming sensation of Hallow magic coming from the school. The sensation refused to abate. That said, she worked to push through it. "Ugh, goddammit." Fucking christ. Why is it hurting now all of a sudden?!

"Are you alright?" Astrid asked.

"Fine," she winced. "Fine, fine, I'm fine. Just… eughh. Must've eaten something off at breakfast." The others gave her looks of concern, and Hagrid offered her a bucket, just in case. "Thanks."

"Can I getcha anythin' else? Tea?"

"Maybe," her eyes swam a bit, causing her to blink rapidly. Turning her head away from the fire, she spotted a table with liquor on it. "Don't suppose you got some single-malt whiskey?"

"HA! Whiskey'll be the las' thin' you need," said Hagrid. Then he winked as he added, "Unless it's 'air of the dog tha' bit ya?"

She grinned with a wince. "Pfft! No, but if you're offering for the future, I'll keep it in mind."

"Hehe, you tell yerself tha, lass." As if to prove his point, he grabbed two liquor bottles with one hand and put them up on a high shelf.

She smiled knowingly, then her vision swam again. Her head fell to her hands in pain. What the hell is that kid even doing?!

"Should we go back to the castle?" Astrid suggested.

"Ughh, god no! I- I don't think I can walk that far," she claimed.

"Let's see if the Beauxbatons carriage has any medicine, then."

Hagrid perked up. "Say, now there's an idea! I'll escort you righ' over! Just- eh- one minute-"

While Hagrid went off to grab something, Astrid coaxed Melissa off of the armchair and guided her to the door, stumbling around Fang in the process. By the time they made it down the grass, Hagrid was behind them, holding his pink umbrella and smelling… surprisingly awful. It made her want to throw up for real. "Now ye jus' 'ang tight, Melissa. We'll be a' the carriage in a jiffy!"

"Ah- sure, Hagrid." Would it be rude to hold my breath while we walk?

She managed to survive the walk without throwing up. That said, she looked green enough that the Beauxbatons students gave pity upon seeing her to let them step inside. Hagrid looked around, whistling loudly. "Now this is fine livin'!"

It probably was, not that Melissa could see much. The carriage was warm, though, with an expanded interior, and the blue carpet felt plush under her feet, which was very nice and soothing. She could also make out some gold trimming along the furniture, which seemed patterned in a way that was reminiscent of a palace. Likely very French Palace styling, full of flowers and fleur de lis, she bet. She was escorted to a nearby chaise, briefly catching the design of pink roses to confirm her suspicions, before another wave of Hallow magic hit her. She let her body collapse onto the chaise completely.

"What eez wrong with 'er?" Someone asked softly.

"She thinks she ate bad food at breakfast."

A boy scoffed, "That's because it is English food." Laughter followed that comment.

"I'd laugh, but I can't," she moaned with closed eyes. "Can I sleep here for a bit?"

She heard some mutters and shuffling for a bit. There might have been an answer, but she couldn't be sure. A short moment later, there was a voice closer to her head. "'Ere. Drink this."

She cracked an eye open, seeing a boy hold a bottle of liquid the colour of anti-nausea potion. She took it gingerly and gulped it down. She gave a small sigh as the effects began to take hold. "Haaa. Thanks, Mathieu."

The boy, Mathieu, blinked in surprise. "You're welcome, Mademoiselle."

Heh. Guess her French classmates haven't bothered learning any of their names yet. "Melissa."

"Melissa," he parroted.

She moved to sit up, only to flinch back as another (now less oppressive) wave hit her. Keeping her eyes closed, she forced on a smile. "So, while this kicks in, what are you all up to?"

It took nearly two hours before Harry let up using the Hallows. He must have stopped for lunch; a fact which Melissa was eternally grateful for as she found herself seated among the Beauxbaton wizards for a light lunch at the carriage. Conversations had flowed steadily over the morning. They talked about classes, both here and at home; Christmas plans; summer hobbies; anything and everything- so long as they didn't talk about the Triwizard Tournament or her being ill. It was a blessed relief.

"'ave you eaten crêpes before?" Mathieu asked.

"Real ones made by fellow Frenchmen, of course," Marguerite added in a snooty tone.

"Yeah, but not since-" Melissa's voice stopped as reality caught up with her. "Oh. Not yet. I'm going to Brest sometime in the future. I have some then."

A combination of confusion and muttered comments flitted across the table.

Marguerite, at least, gave an approving nod. "Bretagne eez ze best place to 'ave zem."

"Too true," Melissa nodded. "For crêpes and galettes. Oo! My mouth is watering just thinking about how good those cookies will taste! Do you have any?"

Snorts of laughter followed the rambled begging. That said, Melissa was rewarded with a promise to have some made next time she visits the carriage. If she wasn't recovering from two hours of pain, she'd have danced for joy!

"Bennett?" Melissa turned to the sound of her name. Standing at the doorway was one of her Ravenclaw classmates, Leonora Rosethorn, with one of the Beauxbaton boys at her arm. "What are you doing here?"

"Having a nice lunch with my new friends," she said casually. "Care to join us?"

Leonora looked to the Beauxbaton boy, first, gauging his feelings on the invitation. Before either could answer, Jean-Luc commented, "I think your friend and Armand 'ave an appetite for different things."

A few people snickered at the comment. Armand did not, but he certainly gave an amused smirk. Leonora, on the other hand, went bright red and angry. "That's indecent! I would never!"

"Never?" Jean-Luc teased. "Malheur à vous, Armand, your fiancée plans to give you a cold bed."

Fiancée?! Melissa looked at Leonora in confusion as the snickering and arguments of premarital chastity went back and forth. I know Rosethorn and I don't hang out, but when did that happen?!

"Uhhh, congratulations?"

A few people looked at Melissa oddly at that, including Armand and Leonora. That is, until Leonora rolled her eyes, "We've been engaged since I turned eleven, Bennett."

"Really?!"

"Of course," Leonora huffed. "Our families have known each other for years, they have been planning our engagement since I was five."

Armand gave a deep chuckle. "I think our mothers planned an engagement of their children before they were married themselves," he said with barely a hint of an accent.

This time even Melissa snickered with that comment. "And you two are okay with that?"

Leonora squeezed Armand's hand, and they gave each other a communicating look before she answered, "Engagements like ours aren't common, but what we have works for us."

If they say so. Melissa gave a simple nod. "Hmm, okay then."

The young couple settled themselves on the table, and gave an opportunity for Armand to change the subject. "There's word from the Hogwarts team that Delacour and the other champions are doing a quidditch challenge at 14 o'clock."

"All of zem?"

"For seekers?"

On hearing Armand answer in the affirmative, one of the boys whistled. "Against Krum? Delacour doesn't stand a chance."

"Still, eet will be fun to watch."

"C'est vrai"

"We should go, too," Astrid suggested to Melissa.

Melissa nodded, considering the idea. It's been a while since she's seen Harry. She half-hoped to see him yesterday when she dropped off her ISP proposal to Snape after his last class. Unfortunately (or perhaps not), it turns out Harry had been called away for some Champions' meeting. Maybe this time she'll have better luck checking in on him? "Sure. Sounds fun!"

Word must have spread across Hogwarts that morning. By the time two o'clock rolled around, the quidditch pitch was filled with spectators. Some were wearing clothes of school pride, while a handful of others were wearing paraphernalia for the Bulgarian national team. Melissa found the sight incredibly amusing, wondering how many of those items were mailed over by parents over this last fortnight.

"So what is a seeker-based game, anyways?" She asked.

Astrid shrugged in answer, while another witch from Beauxbaton answered, "Eet will be like practise, I zink. A race to collect many small balls in ze air."

"Hmm, not all that fun," Melissa muttered. Still, she convinced herself it was worth staying here.

"ZAIR ZEY ARE!" Someone shouted, and all in hearing distance turned towards the quidditch entrance.

There were Harry and Cedric along with Krum and Delacour. …As well as a dozen other people in quidditch gear. She recognized enough of them to get the gist of what was about to go down. "They have to dodge the beaters," she commented. "Oh, this will be fun!"

The crowd cheered at their arrival, an act which seemed to confuse the Champions from the way they stopped walking and talking. The twins then shoulder-bumped the Hogwarts Champions, which got them moving again. The beaters were all holding quidditch chests with one hand while carrying brooms in the other. They moved about to various parts of the pitch, then released the bludgers and snitches once in position. The seekers, who had congregated in the centre of the pitch, readied themselves up on their brooms.

*SHRIIIIIIII!*

They were off in a flash! The seekers flew in all directions, in all elevations, and all focus was set on the mission, even as people cheered and called to witness various manoeuvres.

Then the beaters got to work. The slam of bat-on-ball echoed across the pitch as the beaters rained metal on the champions. It was interesting, Melissa noted, to see that the beaters were focused on proximity of the champions, and not on their school affiliations. Which is good, of course, otherwise Krum and Delacour would be fucked.

"CEDRIC'S SPOTTED A SNITCH!"

People zeroed in on that shout. Cedric was beelining on an upward slope towards one of the towers. Delacour must have heard the shout, as she soon turned and sped towards him.

"GO! GO! GO!"

It was a race of champions- and of bludgers. The beaters had also caught on, and angled their bats towards the two of them. Cedric had to dodge two bludgers seconds apart. Delacour dodged a third, spiralling upwards and into a twist back on track in a way that made the crowd go 'oo'. A fourth bludger missed Cedric by the edge of his nose. With that, both seekers missed their chance as the snitch vanished out of sight.

Melissa released a breath. "Hot damn, that was close!"

"POTTER'S AFTER ANOTHER ONE!"

Her head whipped to find the next chase. Harry was zooming down, another rain of bludgers after him.

One bludger-

Two bludger-

Three bludger-

Krum!

Krum came in at an angle and snagged the snitch within metres of Harry!

And the crowd went wild! All of them shouting, "KRUM! KRUM! KRUM! KRUM!"

He held the snitch aloft, his expression looking resolute more than anything else. Then he had to duck as another snitch nearly hit his head.

"They're going after him still?!" Astrid asked, sounding incredulous.

"I guess so."

They watched as Krum dodged bludgers on his way off the pitch. Though it wasn't long before Delacour and Harry went racing for another one.

Both competitors were as unlucky as before, as Delacour's broom and one of Harry's legs each got clipped by bludgers. Delacour went spinning out of control, but Harry was able to persist. The snitch dipped downward. Serendipitously, as Harry moved down to follow it, another bludger zipped from behind, right over where his head had just been. Harry moved on without notice, speeding quickly until he snagged the second snitch of the day. Calls of "POT-TER! POT-TER! POT-TER!" followed him off the pitch.

With two seekers gone, a disadvantage was realized as the beaters continued their efforts on half the number of champions. Each champion was hit by at least two more bludgers before Delacour caught the third, though she was hit again from behind before completing her escape.

With only Cedric left, it was all out war against him. He dodged and spun, focusing on survival over snitch-catching. The crowd was eating it up as he led one bludger into hitting a beater off his broom; then again as he somehow got two bludgers to slam into each other, creating a loud DONG as they ricocheted and caught another beater unawares. It took ages before he was able to get the last snitch, but by that point he had out-manouevred six beaters off their brooms; and the crowd was loving every second of it!

When Cedric made it back to the pitch's entrance, the crowd went loud, calling every Champion's name in wild cheers. It did the trick, as the beaters cajoled the four champions into returning to the pitch. The four flew about, waving to the crowd as they passed. The four re-grouped at the centre. They were out of earshot, but Melissa could see a friendly energy about them as they grinned while speaking to each other. Cedric nudged Krum playfully, an act that seemed oddly acceptable for the usually moody teen as Krum gave him a challenging smile and shook Cedric's hand. Harry and Delacour were helixing their brooms around each other, calling out some sort of teasing as they passed by.

It was an endearing sight, watching the four of them fly away as they exchanged teasing barbs. Though Melissa never got the chance to speak to Harry that day, and concerns warred in her mind, it was that image she held onto as the days went by.