"He's retired, used to work at the Ministry," said Charlie, explaining about Mad eye to me, Hermione and Ron. Apparently there was some small incident related to him a few days back. "I met him once when Dad took me to work with him. He was an Auror — one of the best . . . a Dark wizard catcher," he added. "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though . . . the families of people he caught, mainly . . . and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark wizards everywhere."
Bill and Charlie decided to come and see everyone off at King's Cross station, but Percy, apologizing most profusely, said that he really needed to get to work.
In my not so humble opinion, no one should ever be this much of a workaholic. And I think most of the Weasley family also shared this sentiment.
"I just can't justify taking more time off at the moment," he told them. "Mr. Crouch is really starting to rely on me."
"Yeah, you know what, Percy?" said George seriously. "I reckon he'll know your name soon."
We booked a taxi and some time later we reached King's cross. The driver didn't look happy, and I could sympathize. No one likes to travel with over excited animals like Pigwidgen, who had been making ear splitting screams throughout the ride. Add that with the number of people that sat in a single taxi… Yaa.
The journey to king's cross had been uncomfortable, and that was an understatement. Pigwidgen's screams were one thing. But at one point, Fred's trunk split open and unleashed fireworks. Everyone was scratched and even Crookshank's fur was slightly tinged. It's sufficient to say that the twins got a very good verbal beating.
Getting to platform nine and three quarters felt nostalgic. I had missed this. I missed Hogwarts. We all leaned against the barrier, trying our best to be inconspicuous. We can't have muggles finding out about us now, can we?
The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it, through which the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared like dark ghosts. Me, Ron and Hermione set off to find seats and quickly found an empty compartment.
"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.
"Why?" said Fred keenly. 'Triwizard Tournament' I thought.
"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it . . . it's 'classified information,' until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."
"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.
"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," I copied Hermione.
"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but . . . well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with . . . one thing and another."
They were doing a pretty good job to build up the hype, honestly.
"Mom!" Ron exclaimed irritably. "What do you guys know?"
"You'll all find out soon. Dumbledore will probably tell you in the evening." Mrs. Weasley smiled.
Soon, the piston hissed loudly and the train began to move.
Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.
The three of us, me, Ron and Hermione split our ways with Fred, George and Ginny and started making our way to our apartment. It was raining heavily outside. The water was splattering inside windows, creating a small cloud of mist. It was almost impossible to see outside.
Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting. "Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what —"
"Shh!" Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs.
". . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore — the man's such a Mudblood-lover — and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do. . . ."
I waved my wand at the compartment's door, sealing it shut with a thud. "Better than hearing him whine…" I sighed.
Ron just nodded in affirmation while Hermione said, "So he wanted to go to Durmstrang." She hissed, "I hope he had gotten there, then he wouldn't bother us at least…"
"I think I've heard of it," said Ron vaguely. "Where is it? What country?"
"No one knows," I said, surprising both of them. "It's concealed with magic."
"Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts — how are you going to hide a great big castle?" Ron said, laughing a little.
"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," said Hermione matter-of-factly.
"Even Hogwarts is hidden. If a muggle looks at Hogwarts, they will only see ruins." I said
"How do you know that?" Hermione asked surprised, Ron mirroring her expression.
"Doesn't everyone?" I replied.
"Hm… True I suppose," She shrugged much to Ron's chagrin, who hadn't known.
We continued talking and the rain slowly got heavier and heavier as we moved north. Soon, our conversation shifted. I picked out the charms book. I knew all the spells, but that was the problem… Me in fourth year barely knew any spells. I needed to see what spells I should use in front of people. I was in fact a little shocked that Hermione hadn't questioned the shield I had conjured in the world cup.
Several of our friends looked in on us as the afternoon progressed, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom.
We all started talking about the world cup and what happened there. Neville listened with jealousy to the others' conversation as they relived the Cup match.
"Gran didn't want to go," he said miserably. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded amazing though."
I consoled the Longbottom scion sympathetically. Neville looked at the Krum figurine that Ron had.
"We saw him right up close, as well," said Ron. "We were in the Top Box —"
"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley." Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous, thuggish cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at least a foot during the summer. Evidently they had overheard the conversation through the compartment door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar.
A small burst of irritation swarmed my mind at Draco's arrival. He may have gotten a little better after the war, but he never became good. In fact, he did things that wanted me to kill him. And young Draco was no better.
I raised my wand and hissed, "Leave."
"Harry no," Hermione said and Draco laughed.
"Ohh someone is feeling bold today?" Draco mocked while plucking his wand out. Both of his brutish followers also pulled their wands. From my side Ron also picked his wand while Hermione and Neville tried to diffuse the situation.
My wand thrummed with barely controlled magic, spilling light sparks. "I will say this one last time, Malfoy, leave." An uncomfortable aura leaked from me shrouding the compartment lightly.
Draco narrowed his eyes and with a sudden movement, casted, "Depulso!" Both Crabbe and Goyle mirrored.
I slashed my wand, cutting the spells mid air and then jabbed my wand. All three of them were pushed out instantly. With an over exaggerated twist of my wand, the compartment's door closed with a loud thud.
Both Neville and Ron gaped while Hermione stared at me, her eyes wide. "Wh-what? How?"
I sat down, my expression neutral, "What?" I asked.
"That was non verbal casting… How did you do that?" She exclaimed in shock.
"Last year… when you guys were at Hogsmeade… the weekends… I practiced a little bit…" I quickly made up a story on the spot.
"Oh…" Ron said, and I could sense a bit of awe in his voice, "Why did you never tell us!"
"Uhh… it never came up?" I tried and Ron shrugged, muttering fair enough, while Hermione facpalmed.
"Well, let's hope that Malfoy doesn't try anything later," Hermione cautioned.
"He can try," I said a little vindictively with an odd sense of humor. My Emerald eyes twinkled, and everyone in the cabin felt a small chill go up their spine. For the shortest guy in the cabin, I had an oddly strong presence. And only I knew why that was the case.
The mood in the compartment got smoother as we indulged in lighthearted conversation. As the train rolled closer towards the Hogsmeade station, we changed into our school robes. Hogwarts Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.
As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundled up Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron left his dress robes over Pigwidgeon as they left the train, heads bent and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads.
"Hi Hagrid!" I called, seeing the large silhouette of a man at the end of the station.
"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"
Hermione shivered and fervently said, "I wouldn't fancy going by boat in such weather."
The weather was bad, and the tradition of first years reaching Hogwarts by boat would surely get many of them sick. I felt a little pang of sympathy for them.
We slowly inched towards the edge of the station where hundreds of horseless carriages stood. I knew that they weren't horseless. So did Neville. And maybe a few others. But not all. We all gratefully climbed a carriage. The door shut with a snap, and with a great lurch, the carriage started running towards Hogwarts.
I could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.
"Yeah— I don't fancy getting wet again," I said.
"We do need to get out to reach Hogwarts," Ron muttered dejectedly and I blinked.
"We have magic," I said and Ron, Hermione and Neville looked at me. "Seriously? Hermione, didn't you tell me this spell?" I exclaimed and then casted, "Impervious!"
"Oh… That's smart." Hermione said and quickly both of us casted the spell on ourselves and Ron and Neville.
The spell protected us from rain, but not cold. And the strong gales of the storm were chilling. As we exited the carriage, we ran towards the entrance, trying our best to reach there as quickly as possible.
"Blimey," said Ron, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, "if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow."
"How did you manage to get water in your clothes?" I asked incredulously. Ron just shivered. Well, to be fair, all of us were shivering from the cold. Though the heat of Hogwarts was quickly assuaging it. Suddenly my instincts ran wild and my hand reached for my wand before my mind could even register. I raised my wand and a physical shield conjured.
Splash! A balloon popped, sending water in every direction. Only the four of us, me, Ron, Hermione and Neville were spared. I pulled my wand, lowering the shield, revealing the perpetrator—Peeves.
"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!" Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall.
"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.
"Waddiwasi!" I said the incantation and a pebble launched from the floor towards Peeves, going inside his nose and launching him—while he cackled and screamed in panic—outside in the storm. Poetic.
McGonagall for a second looked at me appreciatively but in a split second her expression changed. She sharply said to the bedraggled crowd "Move along everyone, to the Great Hall" She looked at me again, "And Harry, ten points to Gryffindor. Now move along."
The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long, House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer here.
"Good evening," Nearly-Headless Nick said, beaming at them.
"Not that great," Ron moaned. "I hope the sorting begins soon, I can eat a Hippogriff."
Soon, Colin Creevy came and started over enthusiastically talking about how his brother was going to be sorted this year. We talked for a while until McGonagall stood up at the center of the hall holding the sorting hat in her hand. She lowered the hat on the chair and it started singing the start of the year song.
After the song ended, the sorting began. McGonagall one by one called the students' names. Each would have the hat placed on their head and then they would be sorted.
As the sorting ended, Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome. "I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."
"Here here," Ron said as all the empty dishes were immediately filled with food.
As the feast began, everyone lunged at their food. Ron especially imitated a wild boar pretty accurately by his eating style. There were conversations here and there. Our house ghost talked for a while too. I groaned when Hermione found out about house elves working in Hogwarts. Finally everyone had finished eating.
Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard. "So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices."
"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year."
At this point, I zoned out. I knew everything that he was going to say. After all, I had lived it before. And looking at the face of the man I had once admired was quite painful too. But even then, my face was subconsciously drawn when Mad-Eye entered the room. And immediately I knew he was the imposter.
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."
A wave of chattering erupted across the hall. Most knew who Moody was. He had a reputation, and not a kind one.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly. He was the more vocal one among the twins, I realized.
Dumbledore went on to talk about the dangers of the tournament and its history. But the only thing that caught my attention was—There was no age limit, and three students from a single school could enter.
This was wrong.