Chapter VIII: The Goblet of Fire
(Neville P.O.V)
Neville grunted as he shoved his trunk up onto the overhead compartment of their cabin on the Hogwarts Express. He smiled as he relaxed into his seat watching while Astoria frantically opened up a Chocolate Frog before cursing, "Dang it, another Dumbledore!" Neville shook his head in amusement as he lifted his herbology book, his eyes glancing over to Michael who was distractingly moving a Knut across his knuckles, before turning back to see Daphne grinning slightly as Astoria and Harry tried to catch the now free-roaming frog.
A loud satisfied purr emerged from Loki's throat as the Kneazle caught the frog in his paws, only to hiss in displeasure as Harry forced him to give it up before exchange it for a Kneazle treat. Michael shifted gently against him, and Neville groaned slightly from a jolt of pain, "Is your shoulder still hurting?" Daphne asked in a concerned tone.
"Just a bit," Neville answered honestly, "I'm glad the cut is healing, but it just feels super sore. I can't believe the Deater got me."
"There were three of them," Michael spoke calmly, "Honestly a cut is lucky."
"I know, but somehow you got out relatively unscat-," Before he could even finish his sentence, his reflexes quickly activated catching a small vial that Daphne had tossed to him from her book bag, "Is this a pain-relief potion? Why do you carry pain-relief potions with you?"
"Why do you think?" Daphne responded with a grin, nudging her head towards Harry.
"Hey!" Harry said with fake offense, "I don't get hurt that-," but a look from Daphne had made him reconsider as he spoke, "Yeah, you know what, I guess that's fair."
The cabin door slid open and Neville turned to watch as Tracey and Blaise entered the now quickly filling compartment. Tracey and Daphne exchanged some pleasantries before Blaise sighed, "This year should be fun."
"Why'd you say it like that?" Michael asked his eyes glancing up at the Dark-Skinned boy.
He unfolded an old paper from the Daily Prophet, "For once the old bat at the Daily Prophet decided to credit everyone that helped during the World Cup attack. While it makes you, Longbottom and Potter look good, us snakes aren't going to be having a fun time in the common room when we get back to school that's for sure."
"To be fair," Daphne said with a shrug, "It's not like we weren't outcasts before. Plus with me and Flyboy here together, it wasn't going to be great either way."
"Yeah," Blaise said with a sarcastic grin, "You sure know how to make our lives easy don't you Greengrass?"
"Didn't I save your life like five months ago?" Daphne retorted with a smirk of her own.
"She's got you there babe," Tracey said with a chuckle forcing a smile on Blaise's face as he shook his head.
"You don't have to sleep in the same room as Malfoy though," Blaise said distressingly, "And speaking of the Blonde git, Tracey and I saw him on the way in. He looks a little, well, I don't know how to describe it."
"Off," Tracey spoke, "He looks off. Plus, he's walking like he had back pain. You don't think he was really one of the people at the World Cup, do you? I mean, there's no way he'd be that stupid, right?"
Neville turned and watched as Michael and Harry shared a quick glance before turning back to the conversation at hand. "Malfoy Sr. didn't look much better honestly. I've seen the man more times than I'd have liked, but I've never seen him looking so touched. Watch your backs this year guys," Blaise spoke, as he turned to look at Daphne, "You and Potter especially."
"Thanks for the heads up," Harry responded with a slight smile, "But I think I can handle Malfoy."
"I'll keep tabs on him and let you know what the git's planning, if anything," Blaise said with a shrug as both he and Tracey found a seat, "It's the least I can do anyway."
Harry nodded and Neville smiled as he looked around the growing and diverse group, but before Harry even had a chance to respond, the door swung open, and Neville had never felt as frightened in his life as he did seeing Hermione standing before them, absolutely livid. Neville swallowed hard as Hermione approached, and before he could even get a word out, Hermione began, "Really! No note! No Message! No Sign! First, there's an attack on the World Cup, and then I find out that all of my friends are involved, and then you all disappear for the next couple of days without a word. I mean I expect this lack of concern from Corner, but you all really gave me a heart attack you know that!"
"Sorry Hermione," Neville said, "Would you believe us if we said we sort of well, forgot? Because honestly, that's what happened."
He watched as Hermione looked around the room seeing that everyone's face shared the same level of guilt, outside of Blaise and Tracey who simply stood there grinning, before she sighed, "You are going to be the death of me."
"Well," Harry said with a grin as he stared at Hermione, "Next time Neville, Corner and I go risk our lives on a mission, we'll be sure to invite you."
"Why do you say that like you're certain another attack will happen," Hermione asked with a groan.
"Do you even know him, Hermione," Neville said with a chuckle as he helped Hermione to her seat, "Harry attracts trouble like a magnet does metal."
Neville watched with a smile as Hermione face-palmed before taking a deep breath and leaning back causing everyone to erupt with laughter as their gang had come to completion. And as Neville tried to contain his blush from Hermione leaning slightly into him, the whistle to the Hogwarts Express blew, and with it, Neville looked out the window as they ventured off for their next year.
(Michael P.O.V)
Michael felt his knees pop as he rose from the bench. He had ridden the Hogwarts Express back and forth countless times and yet, he always seemed to forget just how long of a ride it was back to the castle, and though he didn't much like to put a lot of effort into most things, he hated sitting down for long periods of time. He felt Harry's eyes turn to him as he cracked his back, Daphne's head resting on his shoulder sound asleep and Michael whispered the answer to his silent question, "Getting a snack. You guys want anything?"
He collected the sickles and knuts along with the orders before quietly, he exited the compartment. Just in time, it seemed, as Tracey had begun to unpack her deck of Exploding Snap cards. The vibrations of the train moving beneath his feet provided him a bit of comfort, even though he knew it was powered magically, feeling machines in working order brought a grin to his face, as slowly he weaved himself up the train corridor looking for the trolley.
"Hi, Michael," He heard a sweet voice call out to him, and quickly he shifted his eyes towards the voice, finding none other than Cho Chang and her friend Marietta Edgecombe waving at him. Odd, he thought to himself, Edgecombe's never paid attention to me before. Michael returned the wave kindly before continuing on his trot.
He laughed to himself as he watched the Twins and Jordan in the middle of pestering the Gryffindor Chasers with some sort of new invention, forcing him to remember that he and Harry owed them reviews on the products they had allowed them to borrow over the summer, before he saw Diggory and his buddies laughing it up as a Hufflepuff that Michael believed was named Marilyn awkwardly rubbed up against Cedric's side much to his displeasure. He locked eyes with the tall seeker and chuckled as he mouthed, "Don't tell Cho."
Michael lifted his finger to his mouth, swearing himself to secrecy before finally finding the Trolley Cart. The only problem was that the one person in front of the cart was quite possibly the last person he wanted to see, Terry Boot. "Don't let it get to you," Harry had told him, "You're worth 100 Terrys not to mention I don't trust Terry to watch my back, I trust you."
With a heavy sigh, Michael approached the trolley, and instantly he felt the elbow of Boot push against his chest as he quickly turned around, "Oh, Corner, sorry about that," He said with a smirk. Michael simply rolled his eyes and he moved past only to hear Boot call out, "At least you learned your lesson. It took weeks for my body to stop hurting. Hope you liked your detention, I heard you had to scrub every toilet while Filch watched. That must have hurt, getting bossed around by a squib."
"Can I get two licorice wands, three Pumpkin Pasties, two sugar quills, and a cauldron cake please," Michael said ignoring Boot's taunts. He smiled as he paid the Trolley witch who placed the sweets kindly in a bag for him to bring back to his friends.
"So this is your new plan, you go from beating on me to ignoring me," Boot said, "And here I was practicing my spells all summer to teach you a lesson. Filch must have neutered you pretty good. Looks like I practiced for nothing, well, almost nothing, Susan didn't mind my worko-"
"Get out of my way Boot," Michael spoke, "I'm not interested in hearing you run your mouth."
"I'm not scared of you," Boot spoke in a rather irritating tone.
"You should be," Michael spoke, "Less than two weeks ago, I faced down an army of death eaters and lived. You don't even register as a threat anymore on my radar. Though if you'd like, I'll give you the first move. Your call."
Michael smirked as he watched Boot's eyes widen in shock at his words as Michael pushed him aside. "As for Susan," Michael spoke, "She made it very clear to me that we aren't friends anymore. As much of a scumbag as I think you are, she's made it obvious that she doesn't want my help. But while she can be a bit naive at times, she isn't dumb, and when she learns about what you've been doing with other girls in broom closets, I promise you, you're not going to like what comes next."
"So, you think I'm scum and yet you're not going to try and help Susan just because she hurt your feelings." Boot said trying to regain his confidence, "And here I thought you were such a good guy, didn't know you could be so cold."
"Then I guess you thought wrong," Michael said with a shrug as he brushed past Boot, a sad smile on his face as he headed back towards his group. Sorry, Susan, it hurts less to just let it go.
(Hermione P.O.V)
While Hermione was glad to be back amongst friends, she couldn't help but feel like something had changed. It wasn't just physical, though she realized she was struggling more and more to keep the blush off her face every time she looked at Neville, if she had to be specific it was in their eyes. Harry, while he seemed to keep his rather playful attitude around them laughing at Michael's jokes or smiling when they played another futile game of Exploding Snaps against Tracey, his eyes look colder somehow. Yes, the would light up every time he played with Daphne's hair, or kissed her cheek, but his natural expression was so focused.
Then there was Michael. Hermione was never the tallest person around, but seeing that Michael had currently hit a growth spurt which put him now more than a couple inches taller than she was certainly made her feel quite small. His stare like Harry's looked so driven, but apart from the smiles he'd give his friends, or the teasing grins between himself and Harry, Hermione had found it hard to believe that this was still the same clown she'd known for years.
Unlike Michael and Harry, Neville's eyes remained the same, they looked happy and full of light, but below them, she saw a certain sadness a certain level of fear. He too had grown taller than her over the summer, and Hermione had to stop herself from gulping heavily as she accidentally bumped against the amount of muscle definition she felt in his arm. If she had to try to describe the Trouble Maker Trio now in three words, she'd argue for the most part it was the same, but Harry looked fiercer, Michael looked more calculating, and most distressingly, Neville looked concerned.
She looked out the window, seeing the sun setting behind the mountain range, and she took a deep breath letting herself go, before freezing at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder, "Are you alright 'Mione?"
She turned to see Neville staring at her kindly, and for a moment, his eyes shone so brightly that she assumed she must have not truly seen what she had before, "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Sorry about that."
"What are you apologizing for?" Neville said with a small smile, "I was just worried, you look like you fell into a trance there."
"Sorry, I was just thinking, I-," She started but quickly stopped herself, not wanting to really get into her observations.
"Thinking about what?" Neville asked his face full of patience.
"N-nothing, really, just- You, Harry, and Michael all look a bit different from last year is all," Hermione said trying not to lie but not admit the entire truth.
"Well, I'd hope so," Michael said with a teasing grin, "It would suck if we did all that training with Sirius and Remus for nothing. Especially for Neville, he worked harder than I ever have in my life."
"Something tells me that isn't too high of a bar to jump over," Harry said with a comical grin.
"Aw, shut it, Potter," Michael said with a grin, "But I mean it's true, have you seen Nev's muscles now, I mean, you could grind meat on those abs."
Hermione felt a blush rising to her face as she saw Neville look in embarrassment, the only sound in the room being Michael and Harry's snicker before the two boys groaned in mild pain as Tracey and Daphne pulled their ears, "Stop doing things to embarrass them," Tracey said with a grin, "Hermione's too innocent to hear about Neville's abs"
"Right, right," Harry said with a grin being free from Daphne's grasp, "Sorry about that."
"I hate you guys, you know that," Neville muttered under his breath.
"Yeah, yeah buddy, we hate you too," Harry and Michael responded in a way the frighteningly reminded her of Fred and George.
"It's true though," Hermione said in a quiet voice, "You look good Neville, I'm sure you'll make the Quidditch Team if you tried out this year."
"You think so," Neville said scratching the back of his neck nervously, "You too- I mean- Not about the Quidditch Team, I meant about you looking good- I mean- Hey is that Hogsmeade coming into view!" Neville quickly finished trying to stop his rambling.
He thinks I look good? Hermione thought to herself nervously, staring out the window once as she saw the station coming into view. Quickly, she did her best trying to shake the thought from her head, He was only saying that to be nice. She scanned her uniform up and down searching for any imperfection before she heard Daphne say with a teasing grin, "You know that your tie is supposed to be tight around your neck right, Flyboy?"
"I kinda like it better this way Princess," Harry said with a warm smile, "It's more comfortable and all that."
"I honestly have no idea how you get away with keeping your uniform all unorganized," Daphne said shaking her head in amusement.
"Getting away with things is kinda my specialty," Harry replied with a smile before turning to the overhead compartment, "Need anything from your trunk before dinner?"
"No, I got everything I need in here," Daphne said as she patted her bag, "Come on, let's go get a carriage before we're forced to share one with Malfoy."
"Don't say such terrible things," Harry said with a face of played-up horror, "With my luck, it might actually happen.
Quickly Daphne took his hand and started heading towards the train exit with Astoria quickly shuffling behind them, and Hermione smiled as she watched Tracey shake her head, "They are so cute together part of it irritates me."
"You didn't have to share a house with him," Michael said with a grin, "Before they went on their date, I've never seen anyone so love-sick. It was pretty gross."
Tracey laughed but Neville simply grinned, "I can't wait until you get a girlfriend and we can all make fun of you."
"Good news is with my luck," Michael said, "That may still be pretty far off. Although Potter and Blondie have a point, I definitely don't want to have to share a carriage with Malfoy, let's get moving." Hermione watched as Michael set his owl free before the rest of them marched to catch up with Harry, Daphne, and Astoria.
The light summer breeze felt good on her skin as she walked beside Neville and the group towards the end of Hogsmeade where the carriages awaited them. She stopped however as she watched everyone aside from Tracey and Blaise freeze up. "Is something wrong?" Hermione called out in confusion.
"Can you not see them?" Daphne spoke her voice laced with confusion and a hint of fear.
"See what?" Tracey asked.
"The black horses pulling the carriage," Astoria spoke with a heavy gulp.
"What horses?" Blaise asked.
Quickly Astoria smacked herself on the head, "Of course, I remember what these things are. It was in the book you gave me for Christmas last year Harry. They're Thestrals, they can only be seen by-," Astoria then stopped herself before Daphne rested her hand on her younger sister's shoulder, "They can only be seen by people who've seen death."
Hermione felt her blood run cold, not about the magical creature apparently standing before her, though that in itself was interesting, it was the fact that nearly everyone present in their group could see something that witnessing a death was a prerequisite for. "So, all of you have seen-"
"Yeah," Neville said, "At the World Cup, Michael and I, we saw-"
"Pettigrew, last year," Daphne spoke, "Harry and I watched his execution."
Hermione looked sadly at the twelve-year-old girl trembling beside her sister before seeing Harry kneel down in front of her, "Astoria," He spoke softly, "The person who attacked you at the World Cup, he can't hurt you anymore. You're safe okay? I promise."
Slowly Astoria nodded, breaking free of her trance and instantly Hermione understood why the feeling in back at the Hogwarts Express had felt so different. They weren't just students anymore, they were all survivors of a battle, a sensation that Hermione couldn't hope to understand. The warm embrace of Neville's hand had shocked her system back into reality as she turned to face him, "We're okay Hermione, don't worry too much, alright?"
Slowly, Hermione nodded before she, Neville, Michael climbed into the carriage before Michael called out, "Potter, you coming, or are you riding with your bunkmate?"
"Corner, I swear to god-," Harry started.
"Bunkmate?" Tracey said with a comically sinister grin on her face.
"I'm gonna kill him," Daphne said.
"I might just beat you to it," Harry responded, though he didn't look nearly as intense as Daphne's.
"No Michael," Tracey spoke, "Please do go on about this bunkmate business. I'm dying to know."
Daphne sighed as she shook her head, "Tracey's not going to let up until I tell her, it'll be less embarrassing if you aren't there to tease." Hermione watched as Harry smiled down at Daphne.
"I hate abandoning you like that Princess, but I think it's for the best," Harry said with a smile, "Meet up after dinner?"
"What kind of question is that?" Daphne responded squeezing Harry's hand and turning to face her friends, "Okay so what happened was-"
But before Hermione could hear the story, Harry had hopped into the carriage where Michael grinned sheepishly, "Whoopsie, sorry for letting it slip."
"I swear if you weren't my best friend I'd give you the Malfoy treatment," Harry said shaking his head.
"Come on, mate," Michael said with a grin, "Don't be that way."
"You are so lucky that I like you," Harry said with a chuckle which stole a grin from Neville's lips as well. For how serious they seemed on the train, Hermione thought to herself with a light smile, They still act like their old selves, at least that hasn't changed.
The ride to the castle, for the most part, was filled with laughter, something Hermione desperately needed after understanding what had really happened during the World Cup. She smiled as she told them about her summer adventures before they soon found themselves at the entrance of the great stone castle, "It's good to be back," Michael had said with a warm smile before turning to Harry and Neville, "I hope you are both ready to cause some mayhem this year."
"And here I thought you hated dumb questions," Harry said with a smirk.
"Why do I have a feeling that I don't really have a say in it," Neville said, those his negative remark was masked but a genuine smile.
"I'm sure you boys can talk about pranking later," Hermione said, trying to keep her demeanor away from being one that encouraged such reckless behavior, "Right now we need to get to the Great Hall, we don't want to be walking in halfway through the sorting ceremony."
"Ugh," Michael spoke, "What a pain, I hate the ceremony, I doubt it's going to be as interesting as when Harry Potter magically appeared."
"Just stop complaining already," Hermione said with a small chuckle, "Come on, we don't want to be late."
The Great Hall presented Hermione with an overwhelming sense of homecoming. The four long tables that seemed to stretch infinitely brought a smile to her face as she stared up at the Eagle banner that rested atop her House's Table. The thrill of a new year full of learning sent her heart into a rapid pace as she looked at the professors lined up at their table. Except, there was one chair that was empty, the chair of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. "Oi, Harry," Michael whispered, "Who do you think is teaching Defense this year?"
"Does it matter?" Harry said with a shrug, "I mean, Remus already gave us our routines until Christmas."
"I mean, I know that," Michael responded, "But if the professor's like Snape, it's definitely going to make the class suck."
"I don't think anyone could be as bad as Snape," Harry said shuddering, before he saw Astoria walk up behind him, "Anyways, gotta go, I'll catch up with you later."
"Bye," Hermione said as she waved to her friend while Michael gave a playful salute.
Neville cleared his throat, "I have to get going too. I'll talk to you later Michael, Hermione."
Sheepishly Hermione waved towards the Hufflepuff boy as Michael grinned. Hermione looked at him questioningly as she spoke, "What are you grinning about?"
"Nothing," Michael said, "I just think your crush on Longbottom is kind of cute."
"I don't have a-" Hermione started before Michael shrugged.
"No need to get so defensive about it," Michael spoke calmly, "I won't say a word, teasing won't really help either of you so there's no point."
"You're an ass, you know that?"
"Yeah, I know," Michael said with a smirk, "Come on, let's find a seat, sortings about to begin."
Ten minutes into the sorting and Hermione couldn't help but shake her head in displeasure as Michael's face had fallen to the table, a light snore filling the air as not even the thunderous applause of the new sorting could wake him. Suddenly though, the weather changed and instantly Michael sat up with a look that frightened her. Quickly she watched as Michael locked eyes with Harry and Neville who too shared a look of confusion on their faces.
"What- what's wrong?" Hermione asked a tight feeling in her chest.
"You don't feel that?" Michael spoke, "It's crazy magic, not on the levels of Dumbledore, but pretty high."
The door creaked open, and Hermione quickly shifted her head towards the entranceway of the Great Hall. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest as the man lifted his wand to the charmed ceiling, fixing the weather before he marched in the room. It was an old man, not as old Dumbledore, but still quite old judging by his dark grey, grizzled hair. His face looked as if it had been roughly carved from wood, and scars seemed to cover every inch of his visible body. A large chunk of his nose was missing as well as his leg which was seemingly replaced by a wooden prosthetic of sorts with a clawed foot. But most disturbingly, while one of his eyes was small and dark, the other was a vivid electric blue, and Hermione watched in horror as it rolled to the back of his head before zipping around back to the front of his face.
"What is he?" Hermione asked, her voice shaky.
"Shot in the dark," Michael said with a smirk, "I think that man's Mad-Eye Moody."
"Who?" Hermione asked.
"I'm sure he'll get around to explaining it himself," Michael said his smirk still showing, "Looks like DADA isn't going to be boring after all though."
(Michael P.O.V)
Michael watched in intrigue as Mad-Eye walked down the center aisle towards the staff's table. He had heard from Tonks that Mad-Eye was the headteacher at the Auror Academy but was recently let go by the ministry due to his paranoid behavior. While part of Michael was thrilled that against all odds, a professor that was probably as capable as Remus to teach DADA was found, another part held some concern, After all, he thought to himself, If he wasn't stable enough to teach Aurors why would Dumbledore hire him to teach kids?
"Alastor," Dumbledore spoke with a warm smile, "It's good to see you old friend."
"It's good to see you aren't dead yet Albus," Alastor spoke, "Still drinking out of open goblets though it seems."
"Perhaps I simply have more faith in people," Dumbledore spoke kindly.
"A foolish mistake," Mad-Eye retorted before his magical eye turned to Snape, "Especially with less than trustworthy people always afoot."
"I understand your concerns," Dumbledore spoke, "But this is hardly the place to discuss them. Please take your seat, I believe we have more guests arriving shortly."
More guests? Michael thought to himself, but before he could even have a moment to theorize, the doors to the Great Hall opened and out walked three men, men that he recognized. The first was obviously the minister, his Lime-Green hat confirmed all suspicions of that. Following behind him was a man that Michael had seen briefly at the game, it took him a while, but eventually, it clicked, Bagman was his name. Finally, the last member to enter was a man Michael had seen the year before. His skull-like appearance, neatly parted grey hair, and toothbrush like mustache were remarkably memorable features as he recalled, Barty Crouch. Though that wasn't the end of the mystery as Crouch held an ancient-looking object carefully out in front of him.
A goblet? Michael thought to himself, though it was like no Goblet he'd ever seen before. It was made of wood, though it resided in a large jeweled casket, and unlike any other cup he'd seen before, this one wasn't filled with liquid, but instead burned with a furious blue flame. What is that? He pondered.
"Ah Cornelius, Ludovic, Bartemius," Dumbledore spoke in a grandfatherly tone, "Thank you for your timely arrival, I hope the voyage wasn't too difficult."
"Well, as you can imagine Albus," Cornelius spoke in his normal self-important tone, "Travelling with the burning Goblet can be quite difficult, though I suppose we made it here alright."
"Excellent," Dumbledore spoke, before with a wave of his wand, a large podium appeared before him, and gently Dumbledore nodded, "If you'd be so kind Bartemius, please rest the Goblet and relieve your arms."
The mustachioed man complied carefully dropping the Goblet before removing the jeweled casket. Clamoring erupted among the students, as many shared looks of either confusion or excitement before the Ministry officials took a seat and Dumbledore spoke, "As many of you seem to be aware, what rests before is is the impartial judge known as the Goblet of Fire."
"The Goblet of Fire?" Michael heard Hermione say in a questioning tone, "I didn't read about that in Hogwarts a History."
"The reason we have been granted with such a treasured artifact is that Hogwarts has been chosen to be the location of the Triwizard Tournament!" Instantly, Michael shot Harry a questioning look, but Harry simply shrugged back looking equally lost, "For those who may be unaware, the Triwizard Tournament is a magical contest, held between the Three Largest Schools in all of Europe. It is designed to test the magical ability, intelligence, and courage of each school's representative."
"And now, to introduce the two schools that will be competing against ours, we will begin with our friends from across the pond, please welcome the students from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and their Head Mistress Madame Maxime!"
For the third time this feast, the door swung open and instantly an overwhelming presence of perfumes and the clicking of heels filled the room, as an army of rather beautiful girls with long hair and pale blue dresses entered the hall. While each girl was remarkably pretty Michael noticed that many of the eyes were focused on one girl, in particular, a woman with long silver hair who caused men to drool as she walked by. What's going on? He thought it himself, Why do I feel so light-headed?
He turned to Hermione, hoping for some answers, but instead, she saw an equally perplexed if not irritated look on her face. He quickly glanced up at Harry but realized that he, unlike Ron who was sitting beside him, or Dean, Harry seemed perfectly fine. Not knowing what else to do, he lifted his hand slowly towards his mouth before biting down hard, shocking himself out of his trance as he looked around.
He wasn't quite sure what was happening, but as he saw a river of drool pouring out of Boot's mouth he felt disgusted with himself for falling for whatever it was that was affecting Boot. "What the hell happened?"
"Michael are you alright?" Hermione asked, "A second ago you looked dazed and now your hand is bleeding."
"I'm fine," Michael whispered, "At least I think I am. I can't explain it really, it felt like I was just exposed to a giant cauldron of Amortentia, I've never felt anything like that before."
"There's no way," Hermione spoke, her eyes opening in realization, "I think that girl, the one with the silver hair in the center, I think she's a Veela."
"That would explain a lot," Michael said lifting his wand to his hand performing a basic healing spell to stop the bleeding, "I guess that explains why it's not affecting the girls, but why does Harry seem immune to it?"
Before Michael could even continue down his train of thought, his eyes opened as a remarkably large, but rather beautiful woman entered the room. One look at Hagrid's enchanted face had confirmed his suspicions, the lady was a giant, or at least, a half-giant. Slowly, Dumbledore stepped down from his podium, heading to meet the Headmistress, and politely, he bowed kissing her hand in traditional french fashion before standing up and smiling, "It seems we have one more guest from France," Dumbledore spoke with a smile, "This year our school will be joined by the Daughter of the French Minister for Magic, Claire Belmont."
Michael flinched as he felt Hermione tightly grab his arm, "What's got you so excited? She'll probably be just like Malfoy. A spoiled rich girl."
"I don't know about spoiled," Hermione said, "But she is a teen model for Witches Weekly."
"Why do you know that?" Michael said with a scrunched brow before being slapped upside the head.
"I am a girl you know?" Hermione snorted, "Just because I don't obsess over it like Brown doesn't mean I don't have a subscription."
"Okay, I guess but-," However, before Michael could continue, he once again noticed the glossy eyes look that had taken over the room before return as from beyond the Great Hall's door emerged a rather beautiful girl with vibrant pink hair done in two distinct and complex looking braids with rather focused gray eyes that seemed perfectly clear.
Slowly, Michael lifted his hand to his mouth, preparing for the worst, but as Claire walked through the halls, he didn't feel the effect of the charm. He felt Hermione peering at him before he simply shrugged, "Nope, nothing. I mean, she's beautiful and all, but I don't feel the same pull."
"Strange, neither does Harry," Hermione spoke, "Neville seems immune too," she finished though Michael could hear the clear relief in her voice.
Michael watched as Fudge waddled down to meet the girl extending his hand politely, "It's a pleasure to have you at our school this year Ms. Belmont, I hope you have an excellent time at Hogwarts."
"I will certainly try," Claire spoke and instantly, the superiority in her voice had struck a nerve with Michael.
Yet, before he even had a chance to speak, he watched in horror as the Beauxbatons students began walking towards their table, assimilating themselves within their ranks. He watched in severe un-amusement as Claire walked right past the Ravenclaws and sat between the group of Pale Blue Robes, almost as if she believed herself too good to associate with the Hogwarts students, "See," Michael spoke beneath his breath, "What did I tell you, another Malfoy."
"Maybe she's just nervous," Hermione spoke, "New school and a ton of unfamiliar faces, I'd be wanting to sit around the people I knew too."
"Whatever," Michael huffed turning away as he looked up at Dumbledore who once more prepared to speak.
"Now, from Bulgaria, please welcome the students from the Durmstrang Institute." Suddenly, the sounds of marching echoed through the air, and before Michael could even adjust, an army of students dressed in bright red robes with black fastenings filled the aisles of the Great Hall. In the center of it all a tall and thin man, with a rather unctuously cheerful demeanor entered the room. He smiled, but it filled Michael with the chills as his blue eyes remained cold and unmoving. Beside the man was a boy who looked no older than Astoria with curly blonde hair and deep brown eyes but he couldn't focus on the young boy as his eyes were fixated upon the tall man who looked around the room presenting his bright yellow teeth.
Michael couldn't believe it, but as he saw the disgusted look on Snape's face, he found himself agreeing with the Potions Masters, and while Dumbledore didn't look so concerned, the fact that Michael had seen Harry scratching his scar didn't leave him with warm feelings in his stomach. However, the room became dead silent as from behind the rest of his class, a boy Michael instantly recognized entered the room, and while a flurry of excited whispers erupted, Michael just stared in confusion, So, Krum's here too. Looks like this year is going to be an interesting one, that's for sure.