As the Sister of Harry Potter

ON THE TRAIN

There were always six of us in this one compartment on the Hogwarts Express. It was our sort of unspoken territory, like everyone knew about it and no one sat there except us, unless they wanted to get booted out. Fred, George and I sat on one side, facing Lee, Ophilia and Sarlanda on the other. It was good to be back

We were all discussing the Quidditch World Cup at the moment. Most particularly, the events that had occurred after the match. I had a thin scar where my cut had been from Lance. You can bet a hundred galleons Sarlanda's lips went thin when she saw this. The trolley had just come by and we got as many sweets as our money and lap space would provide.

"So," said Lee, biting into a Chocolate Frog, "what do you think this special event they're holding at Hogwarts this year is?"

"No clue," Fred said.

"Percy and Dad are keeping their mouths shut," George added, popping a Bertie Bott in his mouth and then spitting it back out again.

"I got nothing. You 'Philia?" I asked. She shook her head. She didn't want to talk, seeing as she had a large amount of Droobles in her mouth. She looked amusingly like a chipmunk.

“I don't know how reliable this is," said Sarlanda, "but it's 'sposed to be some special event that hasn't been held in around a hundred years. And it's supposed to be really dangerous, because the Ministry's been working on the security for it all summer."

"Where'd you hear all that?" I asked curiously.

"Dad. He's been going on about it for weeks. Although, he conveniently doesn’t mention much when I’m around, but that’s what I’ve gotten from eavesdropping…” Sarlanda's voice trailed off, and she popped some Bertie Botts. That was the longest sentence I’d heard her say all day.

"Well, sounds exciting anyways!" said Fred cheerily.

"Hmm," I agreed, and I dug a book out of my bag to read until the conversation turned.

I had almost finished my book when the conductor announced that we would be there in another ten minutes. Ophilia shooed the boys out of the compartment, (much to Lee's protests) and we changed into our uniforms. There's one thing I almost cannot stand about the Hogwarts uniforms, and that's the skirt. It made me so uncomfortable, and I couldn’t sit the way I liked (cross legged) or run or crawl or do anything in it. Pants were so much more practical. But I’m probably alone in my avocation to get rid of the skirts, because Sar and Ophilia both didn’t mind them.

Once we were done, we switch with the guys so they could change. I looked down the aisle, trying to find a familiar face. Way down on my right I saw Harry saying hi to Cho Chang. I smirked. 'Probably babbling like an idiot...' I thought. On my left were Sophia Warbeck and Katie Bell, Ophilia and I's dorm mates. We exchanged greetings before going back into the compartment to get the ends of our sweets, my book bag, and Ophilia's Gobstones. When the train came to a halt, the six of us got out. Hagrid was ushering the first years to the boats. Sarlanda led the way to a carriage, and we all piled in, save Lee.

"I'm gonna ride with Sophia," he said casually.

"Suit yourself," said Ophilia, and she closed the door. She nudged Fred once the carriage started moving. “I told you they had something going on.”

“I never said they didn't!” defended Fred.

I couldn’t have been bothered with this. Couples gossip had never really been an interest of mine. I just didn’t like it, and I thought being in pointless relationships was, well… pointless. It’s not like you’re going to get anything life-changing out of one at sixteen. I focused instead on the Thestrals pulling the carriage. Now there was something tangible, likely, and real: death. I had been able to see them since my first year, and I was shocked when no one else could. But now that I thought about it five or six years later, it made sense. I can describe my mother’s death with scary detail. Not that I make a habit of it or tell anyone the whole story, but I write it down sometimes, when the words come to me. So that was my stance on life; death, real. Legitimate relationship in school; not that real. Cheerful, eh?

When the carriage stopped, we all clambered out. We headed up the steps and into the Entrance Hall. It was still such a magical feeling, walking in the front doors for the first time that school year. It brought back so many memories.

We strolled into the Great Hall and Sarlanda parted with us to go sit at the Slytherin table. George and I sat down next to each other at the Gryffindor table, and Ophilia and Fred sat across from us. Harry, Ron and Hermione eventually joined us next to me and Fred on the other side. Eventually, people began joining our group at the table, including Ginny, Hyden Black and Launa Lupin.

Hyden and Launa were both fourth years with Harry, and the three of them together was like the Marauders all over again. Launa was somewhat tall and willow-y, with long, dusty blonde-brown hair the same colour as her father, Remus, but with blue eyes the shade of a swimming pool, and her French accent was a mystery to everyone, even myself. She was bloody brilliant at Potions, but she had a motor mouth that didn’t know when to stop sometimes.

Hyden, on the other hand, was her practical opposite, ironic for being her best friend. I loved that kid to death, and how could I not? He was my god brother, after all. With messy black hair and brown eyes, he was a picturesque mini-Sirius, but with the opposite attitude. He was typically cold and withdrawn to everyone except his friends. Kind of like Sarlanda, except worse. It was nearly impossible to get feelings out of that kid, but there was one thing he was passionate for, and that was music. That’s why he sort of got along better with me than most people was because we could sit there for hours and debate Muggle rock bands. It was great.

Dumbledore stood up at the end of the feast. He gave our usual start-of-term notices (no magic in the hallways, Filch hated everything fun, don’t go into the Forbidden Forest, etc…) but he made a few un-expected announcements.

“Now I’d like to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who kindly agreed to take on the job for the year, Professor Alastor Moody!”

A very grizzled, very odd, and very mad looking man stood up at the table. He had all sorts of scars all over his face, but the thing that stuck out were his eyes. One was small and normal, but the other was large and blue, and swiveled all over the place. It was rather disgustingly intriguing.

“Who’s that?” I asked George under my breath, applauding with a few other students.

“Are you kidding me? That’s Mad-Eye Moody! He’s completely nutters, but brilliant. He’s filled half the cells of Azkaban.”

“And finally,” started Dumbledore again, “one last announcement. This year, I am sorry to say that the Inter-House Quidditch Tournament will not take place.”

“What?”

Everyone in the hall seemed to have gasped it. I couldn’t believe it. No Quidditch? I had been formulating the most epic of plays during the summer after the Cup… so that must be why the Quidditch Captain badge I so dearly craved never came.

“But don’t fret,” Dumbledore continued. “It is my greatest pleasure to inform you that this year, Hogwarts will be hosting a legendary event; The Triwizard Tournament!”

“You’re joking!” yelled Fred. Nearly everyone in the hall laughed, including Dumbledore.

“No, Mr. Weasley, I am not. The Triwizard Tournament was established as a friendly competition between the three major European wizarding schools; Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts. A champion is selected from each school to compete in three very dangerous tasks. The winner of the three tasks would win the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money.”

The hall was swept with whispers.

“I’m going for it!” Fred hissed. Everyone seemed to want it, and I don’t blame them. A thousand Galleons is a lot of money.

“As eager as I know you are to enter, the Heads of the schools and the Ministry of Magic have decided that, for your safety, an age limit will be imposed. Only student who are of age – that is, seventeen or older – will be allowed to enter. I myself will be personally assuring that no student under seventeen will try to hoodwink our impartial judge. As for our guests, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and staying with us until the Tournament’s end, roughly the rest of the school year. I trust you will extend every courtesy to them. And now, bedtime. Chop, chop!”

Ophilia and I were among the first out the door to the dormitories. She caught the password from Sophia, and we were off, steaming.

“They can’t do that!” I muttered angrily. “Canceling Quidditch, who do they think they are?”

“Reckon Fred and George and gonna try?”

“Definitely. Didn’t you hear Fred?”

“Yeah, and I suppose Sarlanda might try… I’m not though, I don’t know enough magic to do something like that,” reasoned Ophilia, lips pursed.

“Aren’t you going to enter, Potter? I am,” said an all-too familiar voice.

From behind us on the Grand Staircase stalked up Brittany Chang and two other girls; her right-hand-woman Cyliana White and her sister Cho. Brittany had a very long curtain of brown, shiny hair, tan skin, and dark eyes. She had never really liked me, and I didn’t really like her either. Though, I never did know why. I had never originally given her a reason to dislike me. At least, I thought I hadn't. But over the years, we had turned into big rivals in just about everything we did.

“I’m entering. I turn seventeen in two weeks,” she smirked. Cyliana giggled.

“Really now? Good for you. I’m not, thanks. I’m not even sixteen yet.”

“And why would that stop you? It’s not stopping your Weasley friends.”

“So? That’s them.”

“What, you’re not a coward, are you? Thought you were a Gryffindor, Jennifer,” Brittany commented tauntingly. Cho just looked at her feet, and Cyliana acted like this was the funniest thing ever.

“No, I’m not a coward. But I’m not stupid either, no matter how much people think I am. If Dumbledore says no one under seventeen is getting in, then no one under seventeen is getting in, period.”

“Whatever you want to use as an excuse, Potter,” she said, pushing Ophilia and I out of the way and taking a staircase that probably lead to the Ravenclaw common room.

“Just let it go, Jen, we both know you could beat her any day,” assured Ophilia as we took a shortcut to the seventh floor.

“Yeah, I know. She just likes to pretend she gets on my nerves. Competition doesn’t bother me, you know this,” I half-lied with a smile.

It was almost true; Brittany didn’t really bother me. She just liked to compete with me, and was a little annoying, but I didn’t hate her. She would probably, and hopefully, grow out of it. Now, Cyliana was a different story. She had spread nasty rumors about me my second year, and made my life impossible. But, I had gotten her back the following year. There are still some boys in our grade who call her, “The Life-Sized Smurf.”

“So are you really not going to enter?” Ophilia asked once we were climbing into bed.

“Nope. I know that Dumbledore means what he says.”

“Really? I thought you were just saying that.”

“No. I’m not an attention seeker, you know that.”

“And yet, you always seem to have the spotlight,” Ophilia commented.

Sad thing is, she was right.

I was about to find out just how right she was.