The Golden Quartet: Year 4

CHAPTER 6

The Great Hall looked as splendid as usual with golden plates and goblets sparkling with the light of hundreds of floating candles. The four House tables were packed with returning students and the staff was at the front at their table, looking back at all their students. Astrid and the rest of her companions walked over and sat with the rest of the Gryffindors at their table.

“Hope they hurry up with the sorting,” Harry said, “I’m starving.”

Astrid chuckled, “I remember when we first got here, your face was in awe and now you just want food. Has Hogwarts lost its charm, Harry?”

He gave a smile, “Hopefully. Maybe that’ll mean it will be a normal year.”

“Us? Have a normal year at Hogwarts?” Ron mocked astonishment.

“Oh, I hope we do. It would be nice to just do homework for a change, instead of researching wizards and stones and complicated potions and mysterious monsters and werewolves…” Hermione said.

“Hermione,” Astrid raised an eyebrow, “you loved doing all that.”

Hermione said nothing but smiled.

Just then, a highly excited, breathless voice called down from the table. “Hiya, Harry!” Colin Creevey, a third year Gryffindor who idolized Harry was waving happily.

“Hi, Colin,” Harry said warily.

“Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry! My brother’s starting! My brother Dennis!” he was beaming.

“Er – good,” Harry said.

“He’s really excited!” Colin, said, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. “I just hope he’s in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?”

“Er – yeah, all right,” Harry turned back to his friends. “Siblings usually get put into the same house, don’t they?”

“Not necessarily. It just depends on their own qualities.” Astrid said.

“Right,” Hermione agreed. “Parvati Patil’s twin’s a Ravenclaw, and they’re identical. You’d think they’d be together, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, and honestly, I thought Athena was going to be in Ravenclaw. She’s more clever and witty than she is brave…” Astrid said with a shrug.

Harry looked up at the staff’s table and a curious look fell upon him, “Where’s the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?”

Astrid looked over and indeed there was an empty seat where the new teacher should be sitting. “Wow, the new professor has already disappeared and the feast hasn’t even begun yet.”

“Maybe they couldn’t get one!” Hermione said, looking anxious.

“Understandable. Who’d want it? I swear that position is cursed.” Astrid said with a sigh.

“Oh hurry up,” Ron groaned, “I could eat a hippogriff!”

Just then the doors to the Great Hall swung open and in McGonagall came leading a group of small students. She lead them to the front of the hall and unrolled a piece of parchment.

“When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool. When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.” She announced to the first years.

McGonagall began reading off the list one by one, and each student she called would go up and do as she told and was then sorted. Astrid wasn’t paying much attention only clapping when she heard the others clap, but mostly her mind was elsewhere. Wondering about her mother and father and if they were having a good time wherever they were and if they heard anything about the attack at the World Cup.

Astrid then couldn’t help but wonder about the Death Eater she had been fighting. He had the perfect opportunity to kill her, so why didn’t he?

“Creevey, Dennis!” this name pulled Astrid out of her daze and she looked up and watched a small boy sat and the stool and put on the hat and –

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat.

Astrid beamed and clapped genuinely this time, “You’re gonna have two worshippers now, Harry!”

Harry just shook his head and clapped along with the others.

Dennis quickly hurried over to his brother and sat down. “Colin, I fell in!” he said shrilly. “I fell in the lake! It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!”

“Cool!” Colin said just as excitedly. “It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!”

“Wow!” Dennis said as if his wildest dream had just come true.

“Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See him? Know who he is, Dennis?”

Harry looked away and stared very hard at the Sorting Hat and Astrid giggled and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, “Maybe they’ll start a fan club!”

Harry let out a heavy sigh, but smiled nonetheless at Astrid.

They were both smiling and looking at each other and then they both could feel something… strange in the air around them and Astrid suddenly pulled back her arm and cleared her throat and looked back at McGonagall and the Sorting Hat.

After a few more students, the last, Kevin Whitby, was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Ron seized his knife and fork, “About time,” he looked at his plate waiting for the food to appear.

Professor Dumbledore got to his feet and opened his arms wide in welcome. “I have only two words to say to you,” he said, his voice echoing in the Hall. “Tuck in.”

“Hear, hear!” Ron cheered as food magically appeared before them and the feast began.

Nearly Headless Nick appeared by their side and watched mournfully as they all loaded their plated.

“Aaah, ‘at’s be’er,” Ron said, his mouth full with mashed potatoes.

“You’re lucky there’s a feast at all tonight, you know,” Nick said. “There was trouble in the kitchen earlier.”

“Why? What happened?” Hermione asked.

“Peeves, of course. Causing trouble. Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits-“

Clang.

Hermione had knocked over her goblet.

“There are house-elves here?” she said, looking horror-struck at Nick. “Here at Hogwarts?”

“Certainly,” Nick said, looking at her in surprise. “The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred.”

“I’ve never seen one!” Hermione said.

“That’s because you’re not supposed to,” Astrid said. “If you see ‘em, then that means they aren’t doing their job right or something.”

“Exactly so! It’s a mark of a good house-elf if you don’t know it’s there!” Nick said.

“But they get paid?” Hermione asked. “They get holidays, don’t they? And – and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?”

Nearly Headless Nick laughed and threw back his head, making it hang back by the hinge of its flesh but after a moment fixed himself, “Sick leave and pensions? House-elves don’t want sick leave and pensions!”

“He’s right, Hermione. Working is their pride and life. Getting paid would probably be like an insult.” Astrid said.

“Slave labor,” Hermione said putting down her fork and knife. “That’s what made this dinner. Slave labor.”

Astrid scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Hermione, it isn’t slave labor if they enjoy doing it! Now stop being so silly and eat!”

But Hermione refused to eat another bite.

The rain was still beating heavily against the dark windows and another boom of thunder shook the glass.

When the puddings had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Dumbledore rose to his feet again. Everyone’s chatter ceased at once so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

“So!” Dumbledore said, 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.”

“I wonder which floor is off limits now,” Astrid smirked.

“Or what monstrosity has been unleashed,” Harry said.

“Maybe Hermione’s got another secret gadget?” Ron asked and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has 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 corner of his lips twitched.

He continued, “As always, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the ground is forbidden to all students as is the Village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

“What?” Astrid looked confused, and above all, livid.

Chatter broke out immediately at the news of this tragedy, “They can’t do this! I was going to be on the team this year!” Astrid said in some distraught.

“Silence!” Dumbledore boomed and the chatter died down. “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, 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-“

At that moment there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning on a long wooden staff, shrouded in a black leather coat. Every eye in the Great Hall turned toward the strange man and watched as he lowered his hood. He shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers’ table.

Astrid’s eyes widened, not believing what she was seeing. “That… can’t be who I think it is…”

“What? Who is that?” Harry asked.

Astrid watched the man’s face as he walked over to the head table. It looked as if it had been carved out of weathered wood and every inch of skin looked to be scarred. His mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of his nose was missing.

Then Astrid saw his eyes and she could tell; one of them was small, dark, and beady, while the other was large, and a vivid electric blue… which was looking around on its own…

“That’s my uncle.” Astrid stated.

Astrid watched her uncle shake hands with Dumbledore and go sit in the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts seat and then she looked over at her sister with wide eyes.

Athena just gaped and shook her head, expressing her confusion.

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Dumbledore said brightly into the silence. “Professor Moody!”

Only Dumbledore and Hagrid clapped, and they ended it rather quickly.

“Your uncle? As in Mad-Eye Moody?” Ron asked.

“Yes! You’ve already known this!” Astrid whispered back quickly.

“Yeah, but, what’s he doing here?”

“I’ve got no idea… to teach, I suppose.” Astrid mumbled, still shocked.

“What happened to him?” Hermione whispered. “What happened to his face?”

“He is – well – was – a Dark Wizard catcher. You try doing that for years and see if you come out without a scratch.” Astrid answered.

Moody seemed indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome and reached into his cloak and pulled out a flask and took a long swig from it.

“Oh, well, this ought to be an interesting year…” Astrid said heavily.

“He’s… missing a leg…” Harry observed.

“Yeah. Don’t know how, but you can only imagine what he did to the one who did that to him.” Astrid stated.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“As I was saying,” Dumbledore smiled at the students who were all still transfixed on Moody, “we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that had 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.”

Anything that had been going through Astrid’s mind suddenly became void at the immediate thought of the Triwizard Tournament.

“You’re JOKING!” Fred Weasley said loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall suddenly broke and nearly everyone laughed.

“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore said, “though now that 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…”

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.

“Er- but perhaps now is not the time… 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 wonder freely.

“The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities – until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.”

“Death toll?” Hermione whispered, looking alarmed.

Astrid, on the other hand, seemed to have an excited and heated look of determination in her gray eyes which almost made them look like they were smoldering.

“There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “none of which had been very successful. However, our own department of International Magical Cooperation 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-“ Astrid smirked, “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 Halloween. 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.”

“I’m going for it!” Fred hissed, his face lit with enthusiasm.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” Athena said, disapproving.

“Oh, come on, Athena! Think of the glory! Imagine being a Triwizard champion! Competing to prove you’re the best, not only of your school, but of all the schools! I’m entering. And I’ll win.” Astrid stated with such determination it was as if she had decided right then and there that winning the tournament was her fate.

“What? You’re mental! It’s too dangerous!” Athena said, looking at her sister with horror in her eyes.

“Not for me.” Astrid stated.

“You’re not indestructible, Astrid!” Athena hissed angrily.

Astrid opened her mouth to speak, but Dumbledore continued.

“Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts… the heads of the participations 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. This-“ Dumbledore had to raise his voice to speak over the outraged cries and yells of some of the students, one of which being Astrid who was so angry accidentally boiled her pumpkin juice, causing it to explode, “is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that the students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them.”

“That is such bullocks!” Astrid hissed angrily to her friends. “We’ve face Voldemort and other treacherous things that no sixth or seventh year has ever even dreamed of facing! At least we should be considered to be given a special exception!”

“Speak for yourself.” Hermione hymned.

“I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion.” Dumbledore went on to say. “I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.

“The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I 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 he or she is 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!”

Dumbledore sat down and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody as all the students rose to their feet to head off to their houses.

“They can’t do that!” George said, looking over his shoulder to glare at Dumbledore. “We’re seventeen in April, why can’t we have a shot?”

“They’re not stopping me from entering,” Fred said stubbornly. “A thousand Galleons prize money!”

“Yeah,” Ron said, with a faraway look on his face. “Yeah, a thousand Galleons…”

“And how, exactly, do you plan on entering the tournament when Dumbledore, himself, is ensuring you won’t be able to?” Athena inquired to Fred.

He scowled at her, annoyed at her lack of support, “I’ll think of something.”

“Yes, you’ll outsmart one of the greatest wizards to ever live, I’m sure.” Athena rolled her eyes.

“You know, if you aren’t going to help or support me, then why don’t you just stay away from me?” Fred said angrily.

“Right, pardon me for not supporting you wanting to enter a deadly tournament! What a terrible girlfriend I must be!” Athena shot back.

“Well, then, maybe you shouldn’t be my girl-“ Fred stopped, still looking disgruntled, “never mind.”

Astrid was surprised to see this side of Fred, entering the tournament must really have been important to him.

“Oh? No, please, finish what you were going to say!” Athena argued, ignoring all the stares they were receiving from everyone as they all made their way up the stairs to the Gryffindor Tower.

“It doesn’t matter, because I didn’t say it, because, believe it or not, I wouldn’t have even meant it.” Fred stated.

“What do you mean, ‘believe it or not’? Like wanting to be with me is unbelievable or something? Well, Fred, being with you is quite unbelievable to me right now, so why don’t you piss off!” Athena pushed past Fred and several other students to hurry to the dorm.

Fred let out a heavy, defeated sigh and slumped his shoulders, “Bloody hell…”

Astrid patted his shoulder, “Ah, don’t worry, Fred. I’m sure a few weeks of pleading and groveling will win her back! But um… I’d like to hear more about this plan to trick the judge into letting you enter the tournament.”

Fred smirked, “I’m not sure yet… maybe use an Aging Potion.”

“Dumbledore knows you’re not of age, though,” Ron said.

“Yeah, but he’s not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?” Fred said shrewdly. “Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he’ll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore’s trying to stop us giving our names.”

“People have died, though!” Hermione said in a worried tone.

“Oh, come on, like we haven’t faced death before!” Astrid scoffed and Hermione shook her head in disapprovement.

“Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get ‘round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?” Fred asked.

“What d’you reckon?” Ron asked Harry. “Be cool to enter, wouldn’t it? But I s’pose they might want someone older… Dunno if we’ve learned enough…”

“We’ve learned plenty – and faced worse. Any one of us could win this thing, easily… well, I know I could. I’m definitely entering one way or another. And if I become champion and win, I’ll honestly give you all the money,” she said to the Weasley’s whose eyes brightened, “I just want to win for the glory.” Astrid looked as if she was imagining she had won, looking down at her peers holding up the trophy.

“What about you, Neville?” Astrid beamed and wrapped an arm around his neck pulling him forward from quietly walking behind the twins.

“I expect my gran’d want me to try… she’s always going on about how I should be upholding the family honor. I’ll just have to – oops!” Neville’s foot caught on step and he tripped but Astrid quickly hoisted him back up.

“Password?” the Fat Lady asked as they reached her portrait.

“Balderdash,” George said. “A prefect downstairs told me…”

The portrait door swung open and they all clambered in. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of cozy armchairs and tables.

“Well, we’ll be heading off to bed. See you all tomorrow…” Astrid waved off to her friends and yawned tiredly as her and Hermione headed up to their room.

“Why is glory so important to you?” Hermione asked Astrid.

“I dunno…” Astrid shrugged and then after a moment smirked deviously, “I guess, I want people to know I am a force to be reckoned with.”