This chapter was beta read and edited by suniwrites and MomentoVirtuoso
Full Chapter Title: I Got This Feelin' Inside My Bones, That Something is About to Go Horribly Wrong
September 1st, 1989
Cynthia gazed out the window of the Hogwarts Express, watching as the sun began to set over the rolling hills and dense forests. The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the landscape. The older students sharing the compartment with her and Adrian had mentioned that they would arrive at Hogwarts in about thirty minutes.
The only reason she and Adrian could sit with the older students was likely because her father had coerced their parents into ensuring they had a place to sit. Cynthia wasn't supposed to know this, but she did. She felt a mixture of gratitude and resentment. While it was comforting to have a place to sit with familiar faces, she disliked the idea of her father using his influence to manipulate the situation.
She looked down at the small napping kitten in her lap and gently stroked her soft fur. When her father brought her to the pet shop during her school shopping trip, it was with the intention of buying her an owl. A way for him to appease his daughter after telling her she couldn't bring one of their peacocks as a pet to Hogwarts. However, when Cynthia went over to take a look at the cat section of the shop, Artemis had practically thrown herself against the cage with a loud meow to grab her attention. After that, it was love at first sight, and Cynthia couldn't not take her.
Already changed into her school uniform, she watched excitedly as the scenery flashed by. The Hogwarts Express slowed to a stop at Hogsmeade Station, and the students began to bustle about. Cynthia and Adrian were told to leave their things on the train, including a sleeping Artemis, as they would be brought to their dorms later. The station was crowded, filled with the sounds of excited chatter and the occasional hoot of an owl.
To make sure they didn't get separated in the throng of students, Adrian grabbed Cynthia's hand, and together they navigated through the crowd towards a towering figure calling for all the first years. The man, with his wild beard and friendly smile, looked both intimidating and reassuring. As they got closer, they overheard some older students referring to him as "Hagrid". He directed them towards the boats that would take them across the lake to Hogwarts.
Cynthia and Adrian climbed into a boat with a black girl who had beautiful braids and a boy with tousled hair and a face full of freckles. The boat rocked gently as they settled in, and soon they were gliding across the smooth surface of the lake.
"Hi, I'm Angelina Johnson," said the black girl, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Lucas Hearth," the boy added, his freckled face breaking into a tentative smile.
"I'm Adrian Pucey."
"Cynthia Malfoy."
At the mention of her last name, Cynthia noticed a brief hesitation in both Lucas and Angelina. Their smiles faltered, and an awkward silence settled over the boat for a moment. Cynthia's father had warned her about this. He had explained that his reputation would precede her at Hogwarts and not everyone would be welcoming. "Some people will not take a liking to you because of who I am," Lucius had said. "It's best to ignore them and focus on yourself."
Remembering his advice, Cynthia chose to disregard their reaction. She turned her gaze to the magnificent Hogwarts Castle looming ahead. Its turrets and tall towers were surreal. The sight was breathtaking, and a thrill of excitement coursed through her at the thought of living there for the next several months.
As they neared the shore, the first years disembarked and were guided up the path to the castle's grand entrance. The anticipation built with every step. After checking that everyone was there and well, Hagrid knocked on the front doors. The massive wooden doors creaked open, revealing the grandeur of the castle's interior. The high ceilings, adorned with floating candles, and the intricate stonework were awe-inspiring.
A stern-looking woman stood at the entrance, her expression softening by the welcoming tone in her voice as she greeted the new students. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "In a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses."
She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, the transfiguration professor, then proceeded to explain the sorting process, the four houses, and the house point system. Cynthia, of course, knew all about it, both from her parents' many stories and from re-reading Hogwarts: A History for the third time that summer. She already knew what house she'd end up in. It was the same house that generations of Blacks and Malfoys had belonged to..
Professor McGonagall instructed them to wait for a few moments while she made sure the others were ready before coming back to get them
Cynthia glanced around, observing how others were talking either about what house they would be in or how they would get sorted. She spotted a dark-haired girl speaking enthusiastically with a nearby group. Cynthia didn't know her, not yet, but she recognized her from the visions that had come to her in flashes over the years. There was a certainty this girl was destined to become a close friend.
This foreknowledge brought a mix of reassurance and unease. Cynthia wondered how she and the girl would eventually become friends. Knowing about their future friendship before it even began felt like a delicate secret, one that might change if she wasn't careful. The thought of inadvertently messing things up by acting too expectant made her stomach tightened.
"This is exciting, isn't it?" Adrian pulled her away from her thoughts. She turned to see him grinning at her.
Not trusting words to come out of her mouth, Cynthia simply nodded.
Just then, Professor McGonagall called for the first years to form a line. The chatter subsided with everyone hurrying to comply. Cynthia fell into place behind Adrian. She felt a flutter of nervous anticipation building in her chest as they were led into the Great Hall.
The Great Hall was magnificent, even more so than the stories had suggested. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the sky outside, just like it was mentioned in Hogwarts: A History. Hundreds of candles floated above the long tables where older students sat, their faces turned expectantly toward the newcomers. Cynthia felt the weight of countless eyes upon her but kept her composure.
Professor McGonagall escorted them to the front of the hall, where a three-legged stool stood, and upon it, the Sorting Hat. Cynthia's heart pounded as she watched the hat come to life, its brim opening to form a mouth. The hat began to sing a song about the virtues of the four houses, its ancient voice echoing throughout the hall.
Once the song concluded, Professor McGonagall started calling out names. One by one, students stepped forward to try on the hat, which then announced their house. Cheers erupted from the tables each time a new member joined their ranks. She watched as Angelina Johnson was sorted into Gryffindor, while Lucas Hearth joined Ravenclaw. Cynthia waited patiently as the line grew shorter, her confidence in her future house unwavering.
"Malfoy, Cynthia!"
Taking a deep breath, Cynthia let go of Adrian's hand and stepped forward with a grace that belied her inner excitement. She walked towards the stool confidently and tried to ignore everyone's eyes on her as she sat down.
The hat was placed on her head, and for a moment, all was silent. 'Another Malfoy, I see,' Cynthia was startled at hearing the hat's voice inside her mind, but she quickly calmed herself down. 'Haven't had one of those in a while. Gryffindor won't suit you; you don't care about bravery at all. I can see you're very patient and hardworking, but Hufflepuff won't do for you eith—'
'Why are you debating the other houses? It's obvious that Slytherin is the right choice for me.'
'Ah, a seer you may be, but ultimately, it is my job to sort you.'
'Well, you don't need to. The you from the future already did, and he put me in Slytherin.'
'Yes, but has the other me considered that your thirst for knowledge is driven by pure curiosity and a love for learning? That is more akin to a Ravenclaw than a Slytherin.'
'While that might be true,' Cynthia argued, 'Slytherin is where I belong and am destined to be, just like all my previous family members.'
'Though your family may have found their place there, it does not mean it's where you're meant to be,' the hat responded thoughtfully. 'It is my responsibility to place you where you will thrive. Your creative mind would serve you well in Ravenclaw.'
'So will Slytherin,' Cynthia countered, her determination growing. 'The pursuit of greatness is the expectation there, and ambition will drive my innovation.'
'Ambition can indeed foster creativity,' the hat mused, 'but Ravenclaw will nurture your intellect in ways Slytherin may not. Surrounding yourself with those who value knowledge above all else could inspire you to reach new heights.'
'But my house is supposed to be my community, my family,' Cynthia insisted. 'Slytherin is where I would be most comfortable. It's where I know I will fit in.'
'Comfort and tradition are not the only factors in determining where you belong,' the hat persisted. 'Think of all the things you could accomplish in Ravenclaw, with peers who share your love of discovery.'
'But my future, my friendships, my destiny—they all align with Slytherin.' Her anxiety was mounting at the thought of being placed elsewhere. A cold sweat prickled at the back of her neck, and her fingers dug into the wooden edges of the stool, desperate for an anchor as the overwhelming dread of being placed in the wrong house threatened to consume her. 'My visions have shown me that.'
The hat paused, considering Cynthia's words. 'I do not mean to push you, young one, but you possess wisdom beyond your years,' its voice echoed in her mind. 'Wisdom that aligns with what Rowena Ravenclaw sought in her students.'
Cynthia felt a flicker of pride at the hat's words, recalling how her parents often praised her shrewdness, a quality they attributed to her natural abilities as a seer. This exceptional wisdom aligned perfectly with her cedar wand, which, as Mr. Ollivander noted, found its ideal owner where there is deep understanding. The cedar wand sought those who possessed great perception and perspicacity, and Cynthia was a natural fit.
'But wisdom can flourish in many places,' Cynthia countered firmly. 'In Slytherin, I can use that wisdom to manage my ambition, ensuring it doesn't consume me and allows me to achieve my goals without letting them control me. I can thrive among like-minded individuals who understand the value of strategic thinking. My abilities as a seer give me insights that can be invaluable in Slytherin, where being cunning and resourceful are prized qualities. It's not just about fitting in; it's about using my unique skills to their fullest potential.'
The hat hummed in contemplation. 'Indeed, your argument is compelling. A shame, really, you're the exact type of student Rowena Ravenclaw would've loved to have in her house, but I see you have a clear vision of how your talents can be applied in Slytherin.'
Cynthia's heart pounded as she waited for the hat's decision. 'Yes, precisely. Slytherin will challenge me in the ways I need to grow. It will push me to be better, stronger, and more capable. That's where my true potential lies.'
The hat mulled over her words for what felt like an eternity; the silence stretching on. Cynthia couldn't see anything since the hat was over her eyes, but she was aware it was taking a long time for her to be sorted. She could tell it was making the other students restless as the sound of their whispers and shuffling feet grew louder as the seconds dragged on.
'This is not a decision I take lightly,' the hat said at last. 'But your conviction is clear. If you are so certain, then you shall be in—SLYTHERIN!"
September 1st, 1994
It was tradition for the Malfoy family to arrive an hour earlier than when the Hogwarts Express was set to leave. They valued their privacy, preferring to say their goodbyes without the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Plus, it gave Cynthia and Draco the chance to have their pick of compartments, ensuring a comfortable journey.
Cynthia and Narcissa exchanged a look while they watched Lucius attempt what might be considered a hug with Draco. One thing Cynthia could never understand was why her father could be so affectionate with her but not with Draco. It brought on feelings of guilt, as she often wondered if perhaps Draco was jealous of their relationship.
She remembered the countless times Lucius had pulled her into a comforting embrace, whispering words of encouragement and pride. Why couldn't Draco have the same? She glanced at her brother, who was now stiffly enduring their father's awkward embrace. Draco's eyes met hers briefly, and she offered a small sympathetic smile.
"Oh, I'm going to miss you so much, my dear," Narcissa pulled her into another hug, which Cynthia readily returned. She took comfort in the familiar scent of her mother's perfume. The smell always made her feel at ease. "Now, I know that this year is going to be a lot for you, but please try not to be hard on yourself. Take breaks here and there, and relax as much as you can."
"I will, Mother."
"I still remember taking my NEWTs and how stressful it was. If things become too difficult for you, you don't have to do it. After all, you have next year—"
"Mother, I'm going to be alright!" Cynthia laughed. "Have you no faith in me? Failure? Who's that? I don't know her."
"And you never will," Lucius came over to them. "You'll rise up on top, like you always do."
Her smile became more strained. It was one thing for her to boast about herself. Letting herself down was dreadful, but the possibility of disappointing her father was even more daunting. The mere thought of it sent a wave of anxiety through her. Her father's words didn't help as they reminded her of a proverb she had read in a Muggle novel: The higher you climb, the harder you'll fall.
Her mother, ever observant, noticed her apprehension and looked at her with concern. She gently squeezed her shoulder, offering silent support. "It's not that I don't believe in you, Cynthia, I do. I just don't want you to push yourself too much. Remember what happened last year?"
At that, Cynthia turned to glare at Draco, who wisely hid behind their father. Last year, her dedication to studying for her OWLs had intensified to the point of sleep deprivation, causing concern among her friends and Draco. She spent countless hours poring over textbooks and practising spells, determined to excel in every subject. In an attempt to conceal the signs of her exhaustion, she resorted to using beauty charms to mask the dark circles under her eyes and the pallor of her skin.
Despite her efforts, her friends still noticed her increasing fatigue. Draco, in particular, became worried. He saw how her wit dulled and her patience frayed as the weeks went on. He tried to persuade her to take breaks and rest, but Cynthia brushed off his concerns, insisting she was fine and that she needed to keep studying.
It was during a particularly challenging Potions class that Professor Snape finally intervened. Cynthia was struggling to focus, her hands trembling as she attempted to brew a complex elixir. Snape watched her closely, his eyes narrowing as he observed her unsteady movements and the vacant look in her eyes. When she nearly added the wrong ingredient to the volatile potion, Snape's patience snapped. "Miss Malfoy," he said curtly, "you will accompany me to the hospital wing immediately."
Cynthia tried to protest, but Snape was adamant. He escorted her to Madam Pomfrey's office, his grip firm on her shoulder. "It is commendable to be dedicated to your studies," he said sternly, "but not at the expense of your health. You cannot pour from an empty cauldron."
It wasn't hard to guess what happened afterwards. Madam Pomfrey, with her no-nonsense demeanour, firmly insisted that Cynthia stay in the hospital wing to recuperate. She administered a sleeping draught and ensured Cynthia got the rest she so desperately needed. Safe to say, her mother and father were far from thrilled when Draco informed them of the situation.
"I know, Mother," Cynthia felt the heat on her face as she blushed in embarrassment. "I learned my lesson, and I promise I'll take good care of myself this time."
Her mother gently cradled her face in her hands, her touch tender as her thumbs stroked the softness of her cheeks. Their eyes met, and a shared smile blossomed between them—one filled with love. With a gentle kiss on Cynthia's forehead, her mother's gaze lingered for a moment longer, as if trying to imprint this fleeting moment of connection into her heart. "That's all I'm asking for," her mother said softly. "Don't forget to write as often as possible."
"We will, Mother," Draco said.
"Oh, wait, you forgot to say goodbye to someone." Cynthia picked up Artemis' carrier and presented it to her parents.
Immediately, her father's face became wary. Last year, he'd made the mistake of startling Artemis awake, which caused her to attack and scratch his face relentlessly. Ever since, he'd been cautious around her. Her mother, who hadn't experienced that trauma, chuckled and waved goodbye to Artemis, who let out a soft meow in response.
With that, Cynthia and Draco picked up their trunks and their pets' cages, then got on the train. A second later and they went their separate ways.
Cynthia found the familiar compartment she and her friends had claimed for the past four years. She settled in, taking out a book from her trunk before hoisting it and her other belongings onto the overhead rack. It was easy to do thanks to her father's lightening charm that made it almost weightless. Artemis let out a loud meow, reminding Cynthia of her presence. Chuckling, she quickly let the cat out of her carrier.
"I know you hate it, and I do too," Cynthia said, petting her head, "but your inability to stay still can be dangerous at times."
Artemis gave her a look that clearly said, And?
Cynthia rolled her eyes at her cat's attitude before getting comfortable in her seat to read her book.
As expected, Cassius was the first to join her, sliding the compartment door open with a grin. Adrian followed closely behind, entering a few moments later. True to form, Veronica arrived at the last minute, bursting in and immediately rushing to the window.
"Bye, Mum! Bye, Dad! Farewell, my troublesome brothers!" Veronica called out dramatically, waving enthusiastically at her family outside. Her father and older brother Emmett shook their heads in exasperation, while her mother laughed, and her other brother Royce waved back like a maniac.
Adrian moved wordlessly to pick up Veronica's things and stow them in the overhead rack. Since Royce graduated last year, this was the first year Veronica would be heading to Hogwarts alone, though her cousins would still be there to keep her company.
It was only after the train had pulled away from the station that Veronica finally sat down next to Cynthia.
"Hey, you." Veronica wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in for a hug.
"Hello, my love." Cynthia hugged her back. "I am sorry to say that we must part for now."
Veronica pouted. "But darling, we only just got reunited."
"I know, but alas"—Cynthia flashed her prefect badge—"duty calls."
Cassius was already up from his seat and waiting for her by the door.
"I'll miss you!" Veronica declared dramatically.
"I'll miss you more." Cynthia blew her a kiss.
Both Cassius and Adrian rolled their eyes at them. Even Artemis gave them a judging look. But they were all used to their antics.
"Who do you think is going to be the Head Girl and Head Boy this year?" Cassius asked as they began walking towards the prefect carriage.
She took a moment to think on her answer.
"Alan Gosling from Ravenclaw and Charlotte Larch from Gryffindor," Cynthia said. "Gosling's smart, good head on his shoulders, and knows the rules almost as much as Weasley from last year. Larch makes up for his lacking social skills. Everyone looks up to her, and she has a commanding presence, so she'll get people to listen up more."
"Well, we're about to find out," Cassius said as he opened the door for her. Cynthia muttered a thank you and stepped inside, immediately spotting Alan Gosling and Charlotte Larch at the front. Just as she had predicted, they were bent over some parchment, their Head Boy and Head Girl badges gleaming on their chests. "Wow, you're like a seer."
Cynthia let out a forced chuckle. If only Cassius knew how true his words were.
"It's not a big deal. I just tried to follow Professor Dumbledore's line of thinking, which can be easy sometimes, I suppose." Cynthia waved her hand dismissively. Her abilities as a seer weren't what allowed her to predict this. It was simply a matter of observation and deduction. Alan's impeccable academic record and Charlotte's natural leadership qualities made them obvious choices for the positions.
It was her special hobby. She loved to observe others, to analyse their decisions and relationships. The teachers were her favourite targets. It was fun to piece together the patterns and preferences of the staff. This habit of hers had grown over the years, becoming almost second nature. It wasn't just about knowing what might happen next; it was about understanding the why behind it.
The meeting unfolded almost exactly like the one last year. Gosling and Larch went over what it meant to be a prefect, particularly for the new fifth-year prefects. They provided meticulous details about the tutoring schedule, the night patrol roster, the partnerships for the next two months, and their other responsibilities. Cynthia noted with mild interest that she would be patrolling with Gosling. Then finally, they gave the passwords for the Gryffindor and Slytherin common rooms.
"This year is going to be special," Larch announced towards the end of the meeting, a hint of excitement in her voice. "Professor Dumbledore mentioned that we should expect guests coming to Hogwarts. He didn't provide any specifics, but he said we'd learn more tonight. So make sure to attend our next meeting; we'll probably be given additional responsibilities for whatever is happening this year."
While the rest of the prefects began chatting and speculating about the potential visitors, Cynthia remained silent. She already knew about the tournament. Her father slipped her the details just the day before. Cassius nudged her, sensing her reticence.
"Do you know what's happening?" he whispered.
"I'll tell you about it later," she whispered back, quickly checking their surroundings to make sure they weren't being overheard. "Come on, we have to patrol."
Thankfully, they had the first shift to patrol the train, sparing them from having to return to their compartment, only to leave again in a few hours. As they walked the corridors, Cynthia's mind wandered to the Triwizard Tournament, the implications it had for the school, and the added layer of responsibility it would bring.
While they patrolled the train, Cynthia and Cassius knocked on the doors of students they knew to be Slytherins, sharing the password for the common room. Aside from answering a few first years' questions about what would happen once they arrived at Hogwarts, nothing of any significance occurred during their patrol. When they were done, they bought snacks from the trolley witch to bring back with them for Adrian and Veronica.
Back in their compartment, Cynthia went back to read her book while her friends started discussing the World Quidditch Cup. She let their chatter fade into the background and focused more on her book. Veronica, Adrian, and Cassius were all Quidditch fanatics, reliving every thrilling moment of the match. However, they managed to grab her attention once the conversation took an awkward turn when they recalled the unsettling scene involving Death Eaters at the Cup. The memory cast a shadow over their excitement, and Adrian quickly changed the topic to what might be happening at school this year.
"I mean, something big is clearly happening what with the required dress robes," Adrian said, trying to steer the conversation into safer territory. "But what could it be?"
Veronica sighed in frustration. "My parents and brothers kept hinting at it all summer, but they wouldn't tell me anything. It's infuriating!"
Cassius turned to Cynthia, raising an eyebrow. "Well, our parents didn't tell us anything but Cynthia's clearly did, right?"
Cynthia looked up at the mention of her name. "Huh? Oh, right. Papa only told me yesterday, though he did tell Draco about it weeks ago," she frowned. She was still upset about that. Usually, she was the one he told these things to, not Draco. But between studying for exams in July, the two weeks she spent in France, and the fiasco at the World Quidditch Cup, he hadn't found the right time to tell her. "Dumbledore will announce it at the feast tonight, so here goes: there's going to be a Triwizard Tournament this year."
Veronica's eyes widened. "A Triwizard Tournament? What's that?"
"I don't know much, I'm just starting to read about it." She held the book up to show them its title. "But from what I've gather so far from both Papa and the book, it's a tournament held between the biggest schools in Europe, which includes Hogwarts, of course, Drumstrang, and Beauxbatons. It was established almost seven-hundred years ago as a friendly competition to build relations. It used to be held every five years, with each school taking a turn to host the event. Papa told me that the tournament was held at least 125 times and that Hogwarts is in the lead with 63 wins and—"
"Cindy," Adrian interrupted her. "As much as we would love—"
"Love," added Veronica.
"—to hear about the history of the tournament, you still haven't told us what it is."
"Right, ahem. Basically, a champion is selected from each school to represent their school. They're chosen through something called the Goblet of Fire. I still don't know what it is exactly; I'm hoping to find out later in the book. But essentially, the champions go through four tasks, each task incorporating one of the four elements: fire, earth, air, and water. The champion with the most points wins and receives a monetary prize along with the glory and honour of winning."
"Why was it discontinued?" Cassius asked.
"The death toll got too high. A lot of champions died while competing, so they discontinued it around the early 1800s," Cynthia said casually, her tone nonchalant as she flipped a page in her book. "But Papa said that the Ministry worked very hard to revive it, and there are a lot of safety restrictions in place now to prevent deaths."
"People died?! Just how dangerous is this tournament?" Veronica exclaimed.
"Oh, very dangerous, there was this task where—" Cynthia began
"No, no, I don't want to hear it. I have a feeling that whatever you say will cause me nightmares."
"Relax, V, I doubt it's going to be as dangerous as it was back in the day," Adrian said. "They won't bring it back if it wasn't safe."
"Yes, because the Ministry's record on safety is so stellar," Cassius interjected with a sarcastic edge. He didn't have to say it but they all knew he was referring to the incident at the World Quidditch Cup.
Cynthia nodded, acknowledging the concern in her friends' faces. "I get it, and I agree that the Ministry isn't always the most reliable. But the adults must've debated this for months, years even, and if they're confident enough to bring it back, I'm willing to take a leap of faith and trust that they know what they're doing."
Although her friends nodded their heads in agreement, it was obvious on their faces they were still a bit sceptical. And that feeling she got when something felt off, the one she got at the World Quidditch Cup, agreed with them. It was a nagging sense of foreboding, like a shadow lurking just out of sight. No matter how much she tried to ignore it, it persisted, gnawing at the edges of her mind.
When the train finally pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Cynthia felt the familiar flutter of excitement. While Malfoy Manor was her home, over the past couple of years, Hogwarts had become her sanctuary, a place where she could carve out her own identity apart from the expectations of her family. Where she had more freedom to be herself.
The station was bustling with students disembarking, and caught up in the crowd, she accidentally bumped into someone's back.
"So sorry, I didn't mean to—" Cynthia began, but her words caught in her throat as she realised she had bumped into George Weasley.
"Oh, hey there, Malfoy," George said with a small smile. "No harm done."
Cynthia felt a flush rise to her cheeks. "Still, I should... I should watch where I'm going," she stammered, avoiding George's eyes for a moment. "So where's your other half, Weasley One?"
George's smile faltered slightly, and Cynthia sensed a tension settle between them. She shifted uncomfortably, a knot forming in her stomach as they both were starkly reminded of their different worlds. Whatever happened at the World Quidditch Cup didn't change the fact that they weren't friends. To George, she was still Malfoy, and to her, he and his brother were simply Weasley One and Two. The unease lingered in the air, punctuated by the bustling noise of students and luggage around them.
"He's somewhere around here," he muttered. "Listen, Malfoy, about the bas—"
"Cindy! Over here!" Veronica's voice cut through the noise, waving her over. Cynthia glanced back at George apologetically before going over to her friends.
As she joined them, Adrian looked at her curiously. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, it's nothing important," Cynthia said, trying to brush it off, but Veronica gave her a knowing look.
Seeing the rain pouring heavily outside, Cynthia swiftly cast the Imber-Impervius spell, her wand pointed skyward to conjure a semi-transparent, bluish umbrella of magical energy. Following her lead, her friends mimicked the incantation, creating their own protective barriers against the downpour. They made their way through the rain towards the waiting carriages, and as they approached the thestrals, Cynthia hurried over to greet the creatures.
Since witnessing Grandfather Abraxus's final moments, Cynthia had been able to see the creatures from her fourth year onwards. She extended her hand and patiently waited for one of them to approach. Moments later, a thestral stepped forward and gently licked her hand, eliciting a giggle from her.
"Hello there, my darling. I hope the heavy rain isn't too much of a bother for you," she said softly.
The thestral shook its head in response, as if understanding her, and continued nuzzling her hand. Another thestral joined them, nudging her waist gently as if seeking attention.
"It's always creepy when you do that," Veronica remarked with a frown, and from the expressions on Adrian and Cassius's faces, they shared her sentiment. "You're practically petting thin air from where I'm standing."
"Well, they're real, and they're lovely creatures," Cynthia insisted. "Shame they're misunderstood by many— everyone thinks they're bad luck, but they're such sweethearts, I just want them to know that."
"Ah, look at that, Mama Slytherin already making her grand entrance," Adrian teased, flashing a mischievous smile.
"And we haven't even reached the castle yet," Veronica added with a chuckle.
"Knock it off, you two!" Cynthia said.
"Oh, right, you're not just that," Adrian quipped, clearing his throat with dramatic flair. "Cassius, do assist the Honourable Princess of Slytherin into the carriage. Her royal highness must arrive at the castle in perfectly good shape."
Veronica and Cassius burst into laughter, while Cynthia rolled her eyes but accepted Cassius's hand as she climbed into the carriage.
Once they arrived at the castle, it turned out Adrian wasn't the only one in a mischievous mode. Peeve the Poltergeist was certainly doing a good job of welcoming the students by throwing water balloons at them, even though they were already wet from the rain. Veronica managed to stop the water balloons from hitting them with a swipe of her wand.
"Nice one, Travers," Adrian patted her. "Those reflexes will come in handy for this year's season."
"And you're already thinking ahead to November," Cynthia said.
"One can never think about succeeding too early," Adrian remarked. "And that's coming from you. You said that to me. In second year."
She rolled her eyes at him.
They made their way into the Great Hall, and as they settled at the Slytherin table, her brother's group joined them, with Draco taking a seat next to her.
"Oh my, you certainly did get caught in the rain." She winced at the wet appearance of her brother. "Why didn't you use your wand?"
"We haven't learned that spell yet," Draco replied, shrugging as he attempted to wring out his soaked sleeves.
"I forgot it's a fourth year spell," she said. "You should be learning it in the next month or so. Should be easy enough. I got it on my first try."
"Good for you," he said drily.
"Come here, my grumpy little dragon. Let me dry you up."
Although she spoke in French and kept her voice low so no one else could hear or understand her, Draco's scowl still deepened. He did, however, turn around to face her. She quickly cast a hot air charm to dry his soaked garments. Reaching out, she began to stroke his hair as it dried.
"Stop it, you are almost as bad as Mother," Draco muttered, removing her hand.
Cynthia narrowed her eyes, not pleased with being compared to their mother. "Forgive me, next time I'll let you continue looking like the drowned rat you resemble," she retorted. Vincent snickered at her remark but quickly fell silent when Draco shot him a glare.
Cynthia glanced around and noticed that most of her housemates were soaked. Rising from her seat, she moved to start drying some of them off. She approached Pansy first, who gave her a grateful smile and complimented her hair.
"Thanks, Pansy," Cynthia said, casting the hot air charm to dry her clothes and hair.
Seeing her actions, Cassius followed suit, drying off Gregory. Soon, her fellow Slytherin prefects and some of the older students saw what she was doing and began to follow her lead.
Most of the second years flocked to her, remembering how she had helped them last year when they were nervous first-years, struggling to adjust to the new environment of Hogwarts. Being the fifth year prefect last year, Cynthia was responsible for guiding them, showing them the secret shortcuts between classes, helping them with their homework, and offering a kind word or a reassuring smile when they felt overwhelmed. "Mama Slytherin at her most exemplary," as Adrian would jest. Her patience and warmth had made a lasting impression on the younger students, earning her their admiration and loyalty.
Among the second years were Astoria Greengrass, Mafalda Prewett, and Elodie Pucey. Astoria was Veronica's first cousin through their mothers and Elodie was Adrian's little sister, making her practically family to Cynthia. These three were close friends and, though Cynthia would never openly admit it, they were her favourites.
Mafalda, in particular, looked up to Cynthia the most. Cynthia had been the one to stand up for her against their housemates who bullied her for her parentage. Despite being the daughter of a squib and a muggle, Mafalda was a member of the prestigious Prewett family. As its only magical heir, aside from Molly Weasley, she had a rightful claim to the Prewett seat at the Wizengamot Council—an honour most of their housemates didn't have. As soon as Cynthia pointed that out, most of the bullying ceased.
Across the Great Hall, students from other houses took note of what the Slytherins were doing and began to imitate their actions. Prefects from each house took it upon themselves to dry off the younger students. As Cynthia continued her work, she felt a gaze upon her. Turning, she saw Professor Snape giving her a brief approving nod. She flashed a smile back at him.
Just as she finished with the last soaked student, Professor McGonagall entered the Hall, leading a long line of first years up to the front. Cynthia grimaced at how wet the first years were.
"Merlin's beard, did they cross the lake or swim in it?" Adrian muttered.
As the first years were called up to be sorted, Cynthia found herself reminiscing about her own sorting ceremony. She had been a hatstall, and even though the Slytherin table cheered when the hat finally declared her one of them, they gave her puzzled looks once she joined them. A male prefect had informed her that she had been up there for seven minutes, an eternity compared to most sortings. Adrian had tried to comfort her, assuring her that all was well since the hat had picked Slytherin. But Cynthia had felt nervous and wondered what might have happened if the hat had chosen Ravenclaw instead.
Her great-great-aunt Colette had been a Ravenclaw, and her portrait still hung in Malfoy Manor, so she knew her parents wouldn't have been very mad, just disappointed. Still, the thought of disappointing her parents made her even more upset. But then a few minutes later, Veronica had been sorted into Slytherin, and the girl had looked utterly shocked. With her father and older brother Emmett having been in Ravenclaw, her mother in Gryffindor, and her brother Royce in Hufflepuff, Veronica was content in being in any other house than Slytherin. Partially understanding how Veronica felt, Cynthia had comforted her, and from then on, the two became fast friends.
One of the first students called up for the sorting was a nervous boy named Malcolm Baddock. He made his way to the stool with shaky steps, and it didn't take long for the Sorting Hat to call out "Slytherin!" The hat was barely off his head before the Slytherin table erupted in applause for the first student sorted in their house, with Adrian going the extra mile by whistling loudly. But amidst the cheers, Cynthia could hear the unmistakable sound of hissing.
Her gaze snapped toward the source of the noise, and to her dismay, she saw Fred and George Weasley across the hall, unabashedly hissing at the eleven-year-old. Cynthia's eyes widened in hurt when she realised that George was among those hissing. The sight of her crush participating in such a mean-spirited act pierced through her. Malcolm glanced over his shoulder several times, confusion and embarrassment evident on his face, and in his distraction, he stumbled and fell before reaching the Slytherin table.
Furious, Cynthia wasted no time. She stood up and quickly made her way over to help Malcolm to his feet.
"Th-thank you," Malcolm stammered, brushing off his robes.
"No need to thank me," Cynthia said warmly. "You'll find out later in the common room, but we Slytherins stick together."
Noticing how drenched he was compared to the other first years, she asked, "Did you get caught up in Peeves' water balloon shenanigans?"
"Yeah," he admitted.
"Well, you're in luck," Cynthia said, casting a hot air charm to dry him off. "Our resident ghost is the Bloody Baron, and he's the only one Peeves listens to."
She took him by the hand and led him to a seat between her and Draco, who flashed the boy a welcoming smile.
Soon, the Sorting Ceremony was over, and the famous words "tuck in" graced the ears of the students. Suddenly, plates appeared, filling themselves with food, while goblets poured themselves with various drinks. Cynthia had purposely avoided eating much on the train to save room for this feast, and she wasted no time filling her plate with her favourite foods.
Later, when the plates had been cleared to nothing more than scrapes, Professor Dumbledore rose from his chair again. Chatter ceased immediately, for everyone looked up at the Headmaster.
"Now that we are all well-fed and content," he began, his voice calm yet commanding, "I have some very important announcements to make."
"Here we go," Cynthia muttered quietly.
"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. As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forbidden Forest is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year."
"That's Mr. Filch," Cynthia pointed him out to Malcolm. The man looked around the room with a look of disdain as he held his cat, Mrs Norris, in his arms. The sneer on his face made it clear that he was not happy to see any of the students. And just like every time she saw him, Cynthia wondered why he was working at a school when he didn't even like children. "Try to steer clear from him. He loves nothing more than to give out detention to rule breakers. I'm pretty sure he hates me."
"Why? What'd you do?" Malcolm asked.
"I didn't do anything," Cynthia crossed her arms. "See that cat? That's Mrs. Norris. Although I can't imagine why someone would willingly sign up for a life full of misery with her. Two years ago, she and my cat, Artemis, got into a fight. Artemis won, and Mrs. Norris didn't come out of it too well. Mr. Filch blames me, which is nonsense, especially when Mrs. Norris likely started it because she is such a—"
"Whoa there, Cindy. This is an eleven-year old, don't forget," Adrian interrupted her, knowing she was about to drop the b-word.
"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
If nothing had caught anyone's attention before, that announcement certainly did. The cancellation of the Quidditch season was unprecedented, as it was the one extracurricular activity that nearly the entire student body cared about. Cynthia braced herself for a riot, but instead, everyone stared at Dumbledore in stunned silence, mouths agape.
Adrian and Veronica wore identical expressions of horror, while Cassius seemed too shocked to speak. Cynthia glanced over at Draco, who looked utterly bewildered by the announcement, and her heart went out to him. While she had been studying, he had spent the summer practising relentlessly, determined to finally defeat Gryffindor and prove he was better than Harry Potter.
"This is due to an event that will be starting in October," Dumbledore explained, "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—"
A loud rumble of thunder from the passing storm abruptly drowned Dumbledore's words out, accompanied by an even louder bang as the doors of the Great Hall swung open. Cynthia, along with the rest of the students, turned to see a peculiar figure entering. He was leaning on a long staff, shrouded in a black travelling cloak.
He lowered his hood, and in sync with his dramatic entrance, a flash of lightning lit up the sky, revealing his features. The first thing Cynthia thought upon seeing him was that it was the face of a warrior, of someone who had been in a war and survived it.
Every inch of his face was scarred in some way. His mouth looked like a diagonal gash and a large chunk of his nose was missing. But it was his eyes that were the most unsettling: one small, dark, and beady while the other was as large as a coin and a vivid electric blue. It moved independently from the other, darting every which way, and even rolled back until only whiteness remained. The sight made her shiver.
A dull clunking noise caught Cynthia's attention, drawing her gaze downward as the man limped towards the staff table. While the rest of the students focused on his mismatched eyes, Cynthia noticed that his cloak shifted with each step to reveal a wooden leg, which produced the clunking sound with every other step.
As he made his way through the Hall, his eyes darted around in a jittery manner, and the scowl on his face dared anyone to speak up. Dumbledore, however, seemed unfazed by the man's appearance, greeting him warmly and inviting him to sit.
"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody," Dumbledore announced.
No matter how much Cynthia went about it, she couldn't shake the immediate sense of disquiet she felt about Moody. Her instincts whispered that there was something off about him. However, she tried to dismiss those feelings, attributing them to her judging the man by his appearance. She had heard about Moody from her father and various people at the Ministry during her visits. He was reputed to be a good man, albeit one with a severe case of paranoia. The only concern she could harbour about him might be some disdain stemming from the war due to her father's affiliations. Yet, despite her attempts to quell her apprehension, the nagging feeling in her gut persisted.
"As I was saving." Dumbledore continued, smiling out at all the students that seemed to be staring Moody down as he ate in a gruff manner, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which 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!" Fred Weasley called out obnoxiously, making everyone start laughing. Cynthia probably would've giggled along with them if she wasn't mad at him and George for their earlier actions towards Malcolm.
"I am not joking, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore chuckled, "though, now 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— "
Thankfully, Professor McGonagall intervened by clearing her throat loudly.
"Er — but maybe this is not the time ... no ..." Dumbledore said, getting back on track, "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."
Cynthia's attention drifted as Dumbledore delved into the history of the Triwizard Tournament, explaining its rules and origins—details she already knew well from reading her book on the train. Her mind wandered to the vaulted ceilings and flickering candlelight, tuning out the familiar words. It wasn't until his final sentences that her focus snapped back.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the Tournament, none of which have been very successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Co-operation 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 Hallowe'en. 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."
At the mention of the prize money, the Great Hall buzzed with excitement. Some students leaned in eagerly to discuss the tournament's details, while others sat back, absorbing the information with rapt attention.
"Excuse me, Malcolm," Draco said, gently nudging the boy further down the bench as he settled next to his sister. "Cindy! Cindy! You have to enter! If you do, you'll surely win."
"You did hear the part about mortal danger?" Cynthia teased, raising an eyebrow at Draco. "Are you trying to tell me something, oh brother of mine?"
"As if you can't handle it," Draco replied confidently. "If anyone could, it's you! Even the other houses know you're the best for this!"
"Draco—" Cynthia began, but her words were cut off by the enthusiastic voices of her other housemates.
Her Slytherin peers seemed to catch the same fever as Draco, chiming in with their encouragements. Astoria, Mafalda, and Elodie were particularly vocal, their excitement ringing through the hall. Cynthia's friends looked on with amusement as she tried to calm down her supporters.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," Dumbledore spoke in a loud tone to gain everyone's attention back, "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."
So that's why Minister Fudge and Mr. Crouch were so curious about when she would come of age, she thought.
A chorus of angry shouts, callouts, and expletives flew from the mouths of the younger students, frustrated that their five-minute long dream of being a Triwizard Champion was stolen out from underneath them.
Dumbledore paused for a moment, observing the Great Hall briefly before drawing his wand and tapping the knotted wood upon the owl-decorated lectern. Loud ringings echoed through the hall like a cathedral bell, reverberating off the walls, drawing out silence from the many students instead of inducing raucous.
As the Hall quieted, the Headmaster picked up where he left off.
"This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the Tournament tasks will still be dangerous, despite the precautions, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to handle them."
Dumbledore's eyes swept across the hall and lingered upon the faces of several students who were smirking deviously between themselves. "I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. I, therefore, beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.
"With that unpleasant rule abiding out of the way, I'm glad to reveal that the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remain with us for the greater part of this year."
Loud gasps of excitement echoed off the walls, a far cry from the previous outrage.
"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 they are 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!" Dumbleodre exclaimed with an excited clap of his hands. The action vanished many of the food ladened plates and used dishware from sight as the feast winded to close.
Draco's expression darkened when Dumbledore delivered the news about the Triwizard Tournament age restriction. He glanced over at Cynthia, his disappointment palpable. "That's not fair," he said. "You'll be of age in April."
"Hey, I happen to like my birthday," she said. "April 16th. The sixteenth day of the fourth month. You know what would be more perfect?"
"If you were born on 1964," Draco, Adrian, and Veronica all said, deadpan.
Cynthia huffed. "You guys take the fun out of my jokes."
"Besides," she continued, "even if I was able to enter, I won't. I have my NEWTs to focus on, and they're far more important than some tournament. Not to mention, there's nothing for me to gain from it. We have money and, tournament or no tournament, honour and eternal glory are already something I'm destined for."
"And people say I'm the arrogant one," Draco muttered.
"That's because I'm better at hiding it," she winked at him.
As they exited the Great Hall, Cynthia's thoughts were consumed by the looming Triwizard Tournament. Dumbledore's warnings echoed in her mind, emphasising the perilous nature of the tasks ahead. Despite the excitement buzzing around her, Cynthia couldn't shake her unease about the tournament from earlier on the train. Her gaze wandered absentmindedly through the crowd of students as she wondered which one of them would represent the school as its champion.
Then her eyes landed on Harry Potter.
A/N: I am so sorry about the late update. It was midterm seasons so I barely had time for anything that wasn't school-related. I hope you folks enjoyed this chapter. Let me know your thoughts! I can't wait for you to see what happens next. Next chapters involves the infamous ferret scene (*＞ω＜*)