▬▬▬▬▬ CHAPTER SIX ▬▬▬▬▬

Guys I got interviewed by Echo News (from Quotev)! If you wanna see what sort of questions I answered, please take a look! Since Wattpad won't let me post links, I'm gonna try and comment on this paragraph with the link to it instead. If that doesn't work, then go to my 'About Me' on my profile and click on the link to my Quotev account. Then go to my library, find the story "Echo News" (it should be the first story), and scroll down until you find the chapter called "Interview With FruitasManiac" (yes that's my fucking name, idk wtf I was thinking when I chose it 💀).

(it'll be worth the read, trust me, and I think you might like some of my answers from #6 and #7 :D)

FOR SOME ODD REASON, ESMERELDA and Draco found themselves willingly sitting next to each other in all of their DADA lessons, much to their friends' confusion and their own. Maybe they were finally learning to tolerate each other? Esmerelda wasn't so sure. Draco was still a piece of shit, and he probably felt the same way about her, but oh well.

"I bet you he's gonna try and kill you again," Draco muttered to her.

She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to retort, but Moody entered the classroom, followed by the loud slamming of the door.

"I'll be casting the Imperius Curse on you, and you're in charge of fighting it off," he announced with his usual angry gnarl. He had been looking quite deranged lately. Esmerelda figured the stress of teaching kids was finally getting to him. Poor guy.

Beside her, Draco gulped audibly.

"Uh, sir that's illegal..." Susan pointed out nervously.

"Dumbledore wants you taught on what it feels like," Moody said, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way—when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely—fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

Nobody left. However, Esmerelda was contemplating on doing so, not because she was scared of him making her do anything embarrassing, but because she knew it wouldn't really affect her. She could always pretend, but that was only if he made his demand out loud. She couldn't read his mind.

She'd have to settle with pretending to throw it off then. It wasn't like anyone would be surprised with her at this point.

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Esmerelda was somewhere at the end of the line and she watched as her classmates did the most extraordinary things under his influence. Hannah did a waltz by herself, Justin sang an Eminem song as if he were a professional rapper, and Susan recited her favorite blueberry muffin recipe.

However, when he got to certain Slytherin students, Moody was a bit crueler. Theodore let loose a loud and smelly fart, Crabbe was forced to do a splits that ended up splitting his pants, and Goyle confessed that he had a crush on some girl in Ravenclaw.

When it was Draco's turn, he was understandably horrified. He actually glanced over to Esmerelda for help, but all she could do was give him a shrug as she watched on worriedly. Moody seemed to hate Draco—or at least his father—the most, so she was actually kind of scared for what he'd force her cousin to do.

"Imperio!" Moody said.

Draco flinched back... but suddenly went very still. It was like he had been struck by Charmspeak or something. He went onto his hands and knees and let out a bunch of weird, animalistic squeals before darting under the desks like some sort of animal.

A ferret, Esmerelda realized. He was making Draco imitate a ferret.

His performance lasted a little longer than the others, which she expected since Moody really had it out for him. She wondered if maybe this would be a good way to help Draco understand how Harry felt with Snape.

So far, nobody had been able to fight off the curse, but that was about to change once Esmerelda took the stand. Not like what she was about to do really counted as 'throwing off' the curse, but it wasn't like anyone here knew that.

"Black," Moody seethed, practically trembling with excitement. "You're next."

She moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. He barely gave her any time before he pointed his wand at her and shouted, "Imperio!"

Stop breathing, he ordered. STOP. BREATHING.

But Esmerelda just stood there, awkwardly looking around. She then pretended to look winded.

 "Wow, what a tough curse," she smiled sheepishly. "I guess I'm done here—"

"—No you're not!" He roared, making most of the students jump with fright. They were all looking at him weirdly now, but he didn't care. Fuck his stupid cover, he was sick of how unkillable this brat was! Why the fuck was it so hard to kill her?! 

"IMPERIO!" He shouted again, but she just continued to STAND THERE with that stupid, uncertain look on her bloody face!

"IMPERIO! IMPERIO! IMPERIO!" He shrieked over and over again, but nothing would happen to her.

The students were all gawking at him.

"Professor," she smiled tightly. "Maybe you should calm down."

And strangely enough, he found himself actually obeying her. His previous anger vanished immediately. He couldn't even remember why he was so angry in the first place... And wow, now that he was thinking about it, this kid was actually kind of impressive! Absolutely perfect! She deserved endless praise!

"Amazing!" He growled out loud, a feral grin on his face. "Wonderful work, Black! Look at that, you lot! She fought it! She bloody well fought it and she did so without any trouble! Over and over again! Excellent, Black! You're a true genius! You all ought to follow her example if you want to survive this world!"

Everyone—except for his number one best student—stared at him as if he had grown three heads. He didn't pay them any mind. Who cared about what they thought—what anyone thought. They weren't as amazing as Esmerelda Black anyways. They would never matter to him! Lord Voldemort who?

He went through the remaining hour of class in a blissful state. He continued casting the Imperius Curse on the other students, but they weren't impressive at all. He wished he could bring Esmerelda up to the stage again, but she looked tired. He wouldn't want to bother her after all, so he let her rest.

When the bell rang, the students all hurried out of the classroom, Esmerelda included much to his dismay.

It was only until the door slammed shut was he abruptly yanked out of his happy dazed state.

He looked around in mild confusion. The classroom was empty, but wasn't he in the middle of teaching? The last thing he remembered was attempting the Imperius Curse on the Black spawn in hopes to kill her, but... but he had failed... again...

Barty Crouch Jr let out a furious screech.

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"He is a bloody nutter!" Draco fumed as they stormed out of their DADA class. "One second he's shouting the Imperius Curse at you over and over again, and then suddenly he's praising you like a lovesick puppy!"

Esmerelda grimaced at the last part. "Okay, gross, Draco."

"Dumbledore always picks the worst teachers ever," he continued to grumble. "First there was that wimp—what was his name? Squirrel or something? He was so insignificant that I can't even remember, all I know was that he smelled bad. Then second year with that dunderhead Lockhart, then a werewolf in third year—"

"—Hey, Professor Lupin was the best we've ever had!" She came to her favorite professor's defense.

He rolled his eyes. "Right, of course. It's not like he tried to slash your throat open or anything," he said dryly. "And now we're stuck with a retired Auror with personality issues who wants to kill you and ruin my life."

"If this is about the ferret incident—"

"—It's more than that!" He cried out. "He's not right in the head!"

She sighed. "You've got a point, but—hey, what's going on?" They had to stop outside of the entrance hall where a large crowd of students were congregating for some reason. They were all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase.

Draco narrowed his eyes, then muttered something about needing to use Goyle's height before stalking away. Esmerelda headed over to a familiar trio who had just arrived.

"What's going on?" Harry asked once he spotted her.

"I have no idea. Can any of you guys read the sign?"

Ron, because he was as tall as a bright red beanstalk, stood on the tips of his toes to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud:

TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early—

"Brilliant!" Harry exclaimed. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"

"Lucky you," Esmerelda said bitterly.

Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast.

"Only a week away!" Ernie said brightly as he emerged from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him..."

"Cedric?" Ron said blankly as Ernie hurried off.

"Diggory," Harry clarified. "He must be entering the tournament."

"He is," Esmerelda confirmed for him. "He's been excited for it ever since Dumbledore announced the big news on the first day."

Ron was horrified. "That idiot, Hogwarts champion?"

"Uh, 'scuse me?" Esmerelda squinted at him. "He's not an idiot! He's a massive nerd!"

"You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," Hermione pointed out. "I've heard he's a really good student—and he's a prefect."

"He is," Esmerelda nodded in agreement, glad there was someone to back her up. "He was my tutor last year, and he was really good. He's also a cool prefect too. He once caught me sneaking out after curfew to grab a midnight snack and let me go."

Of course, she had to give up some of her chocolate pudding as an extra incentive to keep his mouth shut, but he was still cool.

"You two only like him because he's handsome," Ron said scathingly, but she noticed that the animosity was more directed at Hermione rather than her.

"No way," she shook her head, eyes wide. "He reminds me too much of the actor who played Edward Cullen in the Twilight movies! And I look a lot like the actress who played his daughter!"

"Oh my god, you do..." Harry whispered, his eyes growing like saucers at the sudden revelation.

She turned to him so fast that she nearly had a whiplash. "Hold on you actually watched the movies?!"

"Wha—no, no, of course not!" He stammered out. "No, my aunt used to be really obsessed with the series so..."

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" Hermione argued with Ron.

Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like, "Lockhart!"

"I can't believe you actually liked him..." Harry shook his head in disappointment.

"I was twelve!"

"His hair looked like a wig..."

"Every girl liked him," Hermione protested. "Essie, you liked him, didn't you?"

"Oh, no, not really. Besides, I can't really judge you on your crushes when..." She trailed off, her previous amusement fading away as she thought about Ethan.

Here was the thing about Ethan:

She wasn't going to call her feelings for him 'complicated', because it wasn't. She loved him. There. Straight to the point. No hesitation whatsoever. She didn't know when she started loving him, but she knew she started out loving him as a friend before it suddenly... grew... and grew, and grew, and grew to the point that her chest started to ache.

They were on opposite sides of the war. One of them, or maybe both of them, were bound to die. There was going to be heartbreak in the future, and she wasn't ready for it.

Why couldn't he just join Kronos with sinister intentions? She lamented. It would've been so much easier to hate him if that was the case. But no, Ethan had to play the hero. He joined Kronos for all the right reasons and he cared about her so much that it made her heart swell and ache at the same time.

It confused her so badly that she grew desperate for some sort of alleviation. It was why she went to her uncle for help. He had been betrayed by someone before, hadn't he? Maybe he could teach her how to let go. But he couldn't help her because apparently she and Ethan were different.

"Esmerelda..." He had told her in most gentlest voice possible. "Esmerelda, I can't help you. Not with this. I'm sorry, but... but me and Peter, we were close friends, yes, but... I think your bond with Ethan ran a lot deeper than that..."

"What do you mean?" She said shakily, but she already knew what he was suggesting.

"Esmerelda... I think you really love this boy," he finally told her, and the look he gave her was a cross between pity and the sort of look you would give to someone you knew who was about to suffer a terrible fate.

"Essie?" Someone called out to her and she pulled herself away from the memory.

Hermione was looking at her expectantly. "You alright? You were, um, staring off back there."

Esmerelda inhaled sharply, trying to keep her emotions in control. She had been doing such a good job of not thinking of him until now...

"Sorry, I was thinking about something," she said, giving them all a sheepish smile. "I need to head over to my common room now. I've got tons of homework to do..."

"Actually, wait!" Harry suddenly blurted out. "Can you help me with something? Please?"

He looked so desperate that Esmerelda automatically said, "Yeah, sure."

Hermione, however, narrowed her eyes at him. "Ohhhh no. I know exactly what you're doing, Harry. He has the right to worry."

"What's this about?" Esmerelda asked in confusion.

"It's about... Steve," Harry whispered. "Just come on. I'll explain somewhere else."

Harry dragged her off to a secluded courtyard with a fuming Hermione and a lost Ron following after them. After double-checking to make sure no one was around, Harry reached into his bag and unfurled a letter.

"It's from Sirius," Harry told her. "You know how I have... er, weird dreams sometimes?"

"Yeah, like that one where you said someone was trying to kill me?"

"Yeah, that one. Well, before that, I had this other weird dream. I couldn't remember much of it—it was all kind of muddled for me, but my scar was hurting when I woke up. I made the mistake of telling Sirius that though, and now he won't stop worrying. I was hoping you could get him to calm down..."

He showed her the letter, which read:

Nice try, Harry.

I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar.

- Steve

Esmerelda barely cared about the contents of the letter because she immediately grew worried the second Harry mentioned about his scar acting up.

"Your scar was hurting?" She asked sharply. "That's... definitely not normal."

"It usually happens when You-Know-Who is nearby or when something dangerous is about to happen," Ron helpfully supplied, ignoring Harry's hiss to keep quiet.

Esmerelda was uneasy. She glanced over at the scar. The death radiating from it hasn't changed at all since last year, which wasn't exactly a good thing. She knew Dumbledore had told her not to bother informing Harry about it, but she didn't care anymore.

"Harry... about your scar... I know this sounds weird, but I can sense death coming from it." She stated.

Harry stared at her cluelessly, the letter still in his hand. "W-what?"

Hermione recovered first. "How can you—"

"—Just trust me on this okay? I can sense death on your scar, Harry. Ever since third year, but it's been there a lot longer than that."

Hermione looked like she really wanted to question her about her strange abilities, but thankfully didn't. "Well... You-Know-Who used the Killing Curse on him... it—it could be because of that..."

That was what Dumbledore had told her too. It could be true. Or maybe not. Who knew. All she knew was that Harry deserved to know about this odd tidbit of information.

"What—what do you mean my scar radiates death?" He asked nervously. "How could you even—"

"—I've grown... sensitive, you could say, to some things," she explained vaguely. "Death is one of them. You've noticed that I used to be close with the ghosts here, right?"

"Yeah..." Ron nodded slowly. "It was weird... but now they're all avoiding you like you've got the plague or something."

No, they're just afraid, she thought sadly.

"Look," she shook her head. "I can't really explain what's wrong with your scar because I don't know, but it's definitely something to worry about. Especially when it's hurting. If your scar hurts again or anything, you should tell Sirius and... if you don't mind, could you tell me too? I want to check on it."

Harry gave her an uncertain look, but nodded anyways. Esmerelda's shoulders slumped.

Harry definitely wasn't going to go to anyone for help.

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It was October 30th, the day where the Beauxbaton and Durmstrang students were set to arrive. Everyone was giddy and Esmerelda actually was too. She was kind of curious about foreigner students since she was technically one here too.

When the bell rang early, everyone rushed out to deposit their bags and books as they had been instructed and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"Backs straight everyone! Backs straight! Don't want them thinking we have bad posture, do we?" Professor Sprout instructed.

They filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest.

"It's c-c-cold," Justin complained from beside her, his teeth chattering.

Esmerelda, who had gotten used to the chilling atmosphere of the Underworld, felt smugly content with the weather.

They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual.

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers: "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" Many students said eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" A sixth year cried out, pointing over the forest.

Something huge was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" One of the first years freaked out.

"Don't be stupid... it's a flying house!" Dennis Creevey said excitedly.

Dennis's guess was closer.

As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed—then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

The carriage doors opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully.

A large woman stepped out next. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

Esmerelda wondered if maybe this woman was related to Hagrid, because she was pretty sure they shared the same heights. But then she realized just how tall the woman was compared to everyone else and guessed that she was probably even taller than him.

As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," Dumbledore said.

"My pupils," Madame Maxime introduced, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Esmerelda hadn't realized it until now, but about a dozen boys and girls had already filed out of the giant carriage. They were all around their late teens, perfect ages to join the Tournament.

They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks or muggle jackets. Some of them had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads.

And then she spotted two familiar faces. The two Rosier kids she had seen back at the Quidditch World Cup. What were there names again? Étienne and Bernadine, she recalled.

The two of them were standing on opposite ends of the crowd, like they wanted to be as far away from each other as they could. After witnessing just a brief moment of their family dynamic, she honestly wasn't surprised by the purposeful distance between them.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here any moment," Dumbledore assured. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," she replied. "But ze 'orses—"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," Dumbledore said. "The moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other—er—charges."

"My steeds require—er—forceful 'andling," Madame Maxime explained, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong..."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"Very well," Madame Maxime seemed convinced, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," he said, also bowing.

"Come," Madame Maxime said imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

"I wonder how Durmstrang's gonna beat that sorta entrance," Ernie muttered breathlessly, looking around excitedly. "What do you think they're gonna do?"

"They've got Viktor Krum, so maybe they're gonna come flying in brooms?" Hannah guessed.

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping.

Esmerelda perked up, her sharp ears catching a noise.

There was a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed...

"The lake!" Lee Jordan yelled, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water—except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all.

Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks—and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor...

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool... and then she saw some sort of mast rising out.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. She sensed no death from it though, thank gods.

Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking.

Esmerelda could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. They looked to be built like line-backers, but as they drew closer, she realized that it was mostly because of their huge fur cloaks (which were hopefully fake).

The man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" He called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.

Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice and when she saw him, she noticed that he kind of resembled an evil villain you would see in TV shows or movies set in the Medieval period. He was tall and thin, with short white hair a goatee that ended in a small curl. He also had a pretty weak looking chin.

When he reached Dumbledore, he shook his hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling, showing off his yellow teeth.

Yuck, Esmerelda thought. He was literally surrounded by magic and he couldn't even bother to whiten his teeth...

"How good it is to be here, how good," Karkaroff mused. "Viktor, come along, into the warmth... you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. Another familiar face passed by. Viktor Krum, Harry and Ron's fanboy-ish crush and Quidditch idol.

Anyways, now that both schools had arrived, they were all filing back into the castle which must have been a relief for the Beauxbatons kids. Esmerelda joined the rest of the Hufflepuffs at their respective tables while the other students followed suit. The Durmstrang kids were stuck at the doorway, unsure of where to go while those from Beauxbatons had settled themselves at the Ravenclaw table—most likely because it fit their blue aesthetic.

Finally, Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had picked the Slytherin table. Draco seemed particularly smug about it.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side.

Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—guests," Dumbledore greeted, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and Karkaroff leaned over to engage him in conversation.

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them and most of them seemed to come from the guests' respective countries.

While Esmerelda was enjoying her French cuisine, two more people went up and joined the staff table. Much to her dread, one of them was Crouch—the asshole who accused her of conjuring the Dark Mark just because of who her 'dad' was. The other man was Ludo Bagman.

"Why is he here?" Esmerelda grumbled aloud.

"Who?" Ernie asked through a mouth full of food.

"Him," she jabbed her fork at Crouch and his stupid mustache.

"Oh," Ernie blinked in confusion. "Well, they're the ones who organized the Triwizard Tournament, after all. They're probably here to see it start."

"I hope he doesn't stay for too long..."

"You don't like Mr. Crouch?" Hannah rose a brow.

"You know how the Dark Mark showed up during the Quidditch World Cup?" She asked.

They all nodded.

"He's the asshole who accused me of conjuring it the second he saw me. No evidence or anything. I just stepped into his line of view and suddenly he was shouting at me," she said sullenly.

"Because you're...?" Megan trailed off.

She nodded.

They all exchanged either guilty or uncomfortable looks.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now.

"The moment has come," Dumbledore began, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket—"

Esmerelda grimaced at the word 'casket'.

"—just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation," there was a smattering of polite applause that Esmerelda didn't join in with. "And Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued. "And they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word 'champions', the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

The casket, thank the gods, wasn't actually a real casket like Esmerelda originally thought it was. It was actually just an ancient looking wooden chest encrusted with jewels.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," Dumbledore said. "And they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways... their magical prowess—their daring—their powers of deduction—and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "One from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. He reached in and pulled out a large cup full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. He set it on top of the closed casket where everyone could see.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," he said. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete."

Esmerelda glanced over at Cedric, who was already gazing deeply at the goblet. His eyes were bright and hopeful. He had already turned seventeen, he was fully ready to put his name in the goblet.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line." He said, looking at certain faces in the crowd.

The Weasley twins in particular, were grinning at each other mischievously.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

— author's note —

Assassination attempt #1: Pushing her down the stairs (failed)

Assassination attempt #2: Killing Curse (failed)

Assassination attempt #3: Hexed letter (failed)

Assassination attempt #4: Imperius Curse (failed)

Essie when she finally fucking realizes that "Moody" has been trying to kill her: 

Regulus and Draco: 

Anyways, I'm updating again because I wanna distract myself from the chaos that is America with all your lovely comments ❤️

(also, I'm really hoping they arrest all the fucking terrorists who attacked the Capitol. I heard they were planning another attack in New York and they were gonna go back to DC too but with the promise of more violence... This place is turning into a fucking nightmare and it's only the first week of 2021, I wouldn't be surprised if we have another Civil War. Trump needs to be impeached now)