CHAPTER 1 | GLORY, GLORY !

            ACHILLE BISHOP'S OFFICE WAS AN ENIGMA to Kennedy. It was so many things all at once yet none of the things it was normally called. Office, workstation, laboratory - all of them were weak descriptors of the room's true purpose and past usage.

It was the birthplace of potions and herbal treatments that would aid magical society and become intertwined with European magical culture as a whole. It was the generation point of the wealth that her Papa had worked so hard for from his youth to the current day of hidden greying hairs and back pain.

It was the four walls that held years of laughter and awry experiments between father and daughter. The four walls that had bore witness to some of the most important moments of their lives - Achille meeting his match, joint tinkering and inventing, an awful, awful accident.

Yet another moment would be added to the ever-growing chronicles of their shrunken family.

Kennedy sat perched on a worn table adorned with scratches from machinery and equipment and silly little scribbles from a much younger her. Her father, with soot-stained cheeks, a powdered brow and smelling faintly of herbs and gold dustings, stood beside her fiddling with distilling equipment. Quick fingers pausing their frenzied calculated movements, he spoke.

"Kennedy".

Her fingers paused like her father's had moments before. She looked up from the metal contraption she fiddled with.

"I'm sure you're aware that with my position in society and as an alchemist and potions inventor, often I find myself with unusual tasks". He began tinkering once again, the tinny creaks of the metal accompanying his rich voice.

"I'm aware", Kennedy replied with furrowed brows as her fingers started up again. The sound of their tinkering formed a symphony as familiar to them as any of the others performed at the events they attended together.

It was a rather odd way to begin a conversation. That paired with the fact that her father always referred to her by her middle name Odette and instead called her Kennedy piqued her interest immediately.

"But I'm not sure any task I have been presented with is quite as unique as this one. Or nearly as personally-involving".

Kennedy set down her metal creation and looked to her father with full attention. "I'm now quite curious what this could be about, Papa".

"My alma mater requires my services, Kennedy", he pauses, now facing her and wondering how to phrase the next of his thoughts, "And I'm afraid it's much longer than the week or at most a month that I have been called for before".

"It's not just another Potions workshop?", she frowns slightly and sets her arms firmly against the chipping table, swinging her legs as she does so.

"I'm afraid not", he says as he bends down and wanders the room, searching through his cabinets for the asphodel root needed for the bubbling potion in the cauldron on the other side of the room.

"Then what are you needed for, Papa?"

"I volunteered to become part of the official Triwizard Tournament Regulations Committee as the Potions and Herbals Aids Regulation Officer", he says in a rush, as if it was a fulfilling answer to all her questions.

"Papa".

"Yes, love?"

"That tells me absolutely nothing".

He lets out an amused puff of air as he drops the required dosage of asphodel root into the potion and stirs, "The Triwizard Tournament is a magical contest held between the three largest wizarding schools of Europe - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Durmstrang Institute, and Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. And each school would be represented by one champion, hence the name triwizard".

Kennedy let out a small sound of understanding as she traced her fingers through cracks in the chipping wood. "And what happens in the tournament?"

"Three dangerous tasks of puzzles to test magical ability and wit. The prize is a thousand galleons and 'eternal glory' so you can imagine how hormonal teenagers flocked to it".

Kennedy let out a louder sound of understanding as he continued, "It was banned however, many years before my time. That was, until recently. Professor Dumbledore thought it would be wise to start it up again. That's where I come in".

"I thought it would be good if I stepped in to help with the tournament with my expertise because I know that reviving an old tradition would be difficult - especially since very few people alive experienced the last one", he calmly explains as he returns to the table she is perched on. Kennedy can sense a "But" coming along.

He avoids eye contact, "But".

There it is.

"I would have to be at the school for the whole school year". He looks at her and meets a blank mask of an expression. Internally, he chides himself for passing on his well-refined skill of an expressionless resting face. "Now, obviously, I wouldn't want to leave you here in France all alone in this huge house while I'm off in Scotland at school. That would be cruel of me".

Kennedy takes less than a second to process before she states plainly, "You want me to transfer to Hogwarts".

He hums in agreement, "Obviously I wouldn't want to hire a whole new set of home teachers when you could just as easily be transferred to a well-established school".

At the sigh of the conflicted look on her face, he rushes to explain himself, "And think of how easy the transition would be. We already have our vacation home in Sanlow so we could easily make that house our main residency and make this house the vacation home. You're already equipped with the knowledge offered in the first three years of Hogwarts education and more. You will obviously have no issue fitting in as you're already acquainted with or know of the worthwhile students there. You'll have no issues whatsoever".

He was right, Kennedy would have no issues whatsoever. But, she remained lukewarm.

It's a whole new experience, a whole new country, a whole new culture, a whole new school with at least a thousand students which was very certainly a huge departure from the one-student class setting she was used to. Not that she was worried about the sheer magnitude of the student population.

She was excited to meet the students. It was intriguing to her, having a student population of about one thousand at her disposal. One thousand new toys, millions of possible stories to be threaded and heard and twisted and all with one brilliant mind at the center of it - hers. It sounded glorious and endlessly entertaining.

But.

It was just ... a change. A huge one. A monumental one that she could just feel would change the entire trajectory of her life - for better or for worse.

And then, as if from the heavens, perhaps a gift from Athena herself, it hit her.

She was being offered front-row seats to the revival of some formerly-defunct death tournament where her father was the Potions and Herbal Aids Regulation Officer.

Potions and Herbal Aids Regulation Officer.

Regulation Officer.

Regulation.

If there was regulation, then there were things being regulated against. Things not allowed. Things people would obviously still attempt to sneak into the tournament because that's how human beings work.

She could imagine it now, champions scrambling to get information from her and asking (whether subtly or crassly) for her to suck up to her dad and allow small illegal potions and aids to slip through the cracks.

It was dizzying, the prospect of power over a faceless mass of people. It was dizzying and much too tempting an opportunity for her to turn down.

As a loose framework of a plan cemented itself in her mind, a toothy smile adorned Kennedy's face, "Oh, I would love to, Papa".

Achille laughed at seeing his own scheming behavior so clearly imprinted on his daughter's mannerisms, "I assume I won't be filled in on whatever new plot you've thought of in that brilliant mind of yours".

"Don't worry Papa, you'll find out soon enough".

.·:••●••:·.

THE BISHOPS HAD BEEN SETTLED into their former vacation home - Cellier Hall - in Sanlow, Gloucestershire, West England for about three months now. Situated on Ellingford Lane and named after Achille's former surname, the house was nice enough.

A large villa with cream walls, tall arches and winding green vines slinking along most walls. The wide windows were ceiling-to-floor with wooden mullions crisscrossing along them. The furniture was largely rustic utilizing mostly earthy tones like brown and green to create a homey feel to it. A fountain stood a little ways away from the front door and a flower garden nestled against the left of the house.

The neighborhood was nice enough - Ministry for Magic officials, celebrities, and the likes residing there. Having a house in Sanlow was incredibly difficult, there was space in the town for only about three-hundred homes and millions scrambling to live there.

There wasn't much furniture to move between France and England. Cellier Hall already had the essentials but few things needed to be updated. For example; Kennedy's room was pink and frilly all over as the last time they had been in England was last year in the summer months. While she still adored the color and was certain she always would, she preferred for her room to be in pearly white, emerald green, golden tones versus the loud pinkness formerly present.

Updated potions equipment needed to be moved from her father's workshop to the one in England, important documents needed to be carefully transported, clothes and personal furniture had to be packed and unpacked - there was certainly work to do.

And it was done.

The moving process took place about a month after Kennedy and her father's initial conversation that afternoon. That month of interim between conversation and moving was spent packing, sorting, arranging and deciding what to leave behind and what to take.

Ultimately, all that was taken was their clothes, books, important documents, equipment, Kennedy's kitten Sawyer and some personal furniture. Everything else was left behind. It was now a vacation home, after all. It couldn't be left empty.

As was customary, a Hogwarts letter was delivered by a rust-colored owl to one Ms. Kennedy Odette Bishop. Both her and her father smiled at the ritualistic nature of it all. It was oddly endearing.

Kennedy and her father had gone school shopping a little earlier than usual because Achille would have to leave for Hogwarts a few weeks earlier than Kennedy to prepare for the tournament. They had bought robes, clothes for casual wear and Hogsmeade trips, textbooks, sweets, a cauldron, extra pet supplies for Sawyer and a gown for the Yule Ball her father had whispered to her about.

All of this and more lay packed and arranged in her trunk by September 1st.

Accompanied by Madam Blake, one of her father's employees, she made her way to Kings' Cross Station in search of Platform 9 and Three Quarters. Quickly depositing her luggage into the appropriate area and waving Madam Blake a polite goodbye, Kennedy searched the train for an empty compartment with her mini-trunk swinging in-hand and Sawyer padding alongside her feet.

She'd arrived early and as a result, claimed a good compartment. Not too close to the front, but not too close to the back either. She set her mini-trunk on the seat beside her, ensured that Sawyer was sat down well and relaxed into the plush cushioning.

It was happening.

It was actually happening.

She was transferring to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Kennedy had discussed it with her father countless times after their initial conversation, deliberated it within herself at odd times of day and night and had written journal entry upon journal entry about it, and yet, it felt odd that it was actually happening. All this time it had felt like a far-off event. Something to happen light years away.

But even events light years apart could be brought together, she supposed. And she had proof because she was there. On the Hogwarts Express, in a compartment, seated on plush cushioning on her way to a new school in a partially-new country.

"Wow", she mused to herself as she looked out the window at the rapidly filling up platform of parents and children rushing around trying to locate lost siblings and belongings. She supposed the chaos was part of the experience but she was glad she had avoided that shitstorm of a mess. It wasn't really the chaos she preferred to partake in.

Children hugged their mums and received kisses from their dads as they rushed off onto the train.

(Kennedy elected to ignore the clench in her chest.)

The train slowly filled up and thankfully, no one had knocked on her compartment asking whether they could sit there or join her. She really wasn't in the mood to socialize at the moment. She'd wait until after sorting and the first dinner. Then, she'd be able to gauge who she would be interacting with often and whether or not she could afford to be blasé with the common archetypes she was sure to meet.

She's sure that at least half of the student population would be sheepish dumbasses that would be much too easy to butter up. They are not her targets nor the goal - they are simply byproducts in her ascension to her rightful status. If you want to make an impact anywhere, you start from the top. She knows a few of them from meeting them in Sanlow when they come back on summer break or met them at whatever party her father had whisked her off to for the evening.

Vague names and faces exist in her memory and she's sure once she gets to Hogwarts, they would clear in her mind to crystal-like quality. But names and faces are not important, humans are much too similar for that.

To identify who is worth her time, she only needs to look in the mirror and observe her own body-language - arrogant eyes, straight posture, perfectly-kempt hair and a condescending smile much too knowing for her fourteen years. It's a fool-proof method that has carried her through functions and banquets in the ten years that her father has been taking her to them.

Kennedy had always longed for a proper school experience. Not for camaraderie or school spirit or any bullshit like that, but because she was interested in seeing how her constantly-scheming mind would fare in such a complicated ecosystem with so many key players, predators and prey. Would she survive? Where on the food chain would she be? She loves a challenge and navigating a school with so many existing threads and connections would surely be one.

Nothing she couldn't handle, of course. Every playground has more or less the same rules.

First should be a no-brainer - Don't insult the leaders. They are established figureheads and you coming for them directly is too much of a rookie mistake. It's a threat to leadership much too clear for anyone with any kind of experience.

Second, suck up to the yes-men. The yes-men, the henchmen, whatever you call them. Just suck up to them. They hold the most power in shaping the leader's perception of things, whether either of them know it or not. Want to get to the leader? Suck up to the yes-men.

And thirdly and most importantly, present yourself as aloof. You know what you're doing obviously, but a ditzy smile and bright eyes go a long way in deluding competitors into believing you are unaware of and glossing over your presence in the game.

Kennedy relaxes into the cushioning, her socked feet kicked up on the seat in front of her. Sawyer lays by her side and Kennedy rhythmically pets him as he is lulled to sleep.

The horn of the Hogwarts Express blares, Sawyer startles and Kennedy grins.

.·:••●••:·.

IN HER TIMES OF GENERAL ISOLATION, Kennedy had forgotten how tall was average for eleven-year old's and wondered if the soon to be first years crowded in the rickety boat sailing across the Black Lake were particularly small or if she was just growing. They seemed so tiny compared to her despite their mere three year age difference.

Their arms were too long for their bodies, they carried an air of general awkwardness she had barely settled into before abandoning and most had yet to grow into their features - they felt like fetuses. It certainly didn't help that Kennedy was already quite tall for her age, standing at 5"8 after one hell of a growth spurt during the summer months.

Being around them was not uncomfortable for her though, and she'd hoped it would be the same for them. Their hushed excitement and bright eyes provided a warmth to dull the sting of the biting winds.

The row boats were not particularly small but not large either. Three eleven-year old's, one Kennedy and one Sawyer fit inside one so perhaps it was designed to hold about five incoming first years. Sawyer, being a cat, had a natural distaste towards water and being on a rickety row boat on a large expanse of a largely opaque lake was very certainly not where he would want to spend his evening.

Kennedy just combed through his dark fur rhythmically and prayed that he didn't feel too uncomfortable.

She looked out at the other boats sailing alongside theirs, all with a lantern lighting their path towards their final destination. Seated nearest to their lantern was a young dark-skinned boy with a large crown of tight coils upon his head. His eyes were large pools of liquid hematite with glints of intelligence and wit - the darkest pair of eyes she had ever seen.

Laid upon his lap were his hands, perfectly aligned with his elbows tucked into his body. As he thrummed in his seat like a spark waiting to blow, his thin silver frames bobbed up and down his face. Every second or the other, he'd have to push the much too-big frames up his nose.

Now, Kennedy being the "adult" of this situation decided to take the initiative and be nice. Start up a conversation, extend an olive branch, all of that. That was, until he beat her to it.

"Why are you so old?".

Kennedy blinked. It seemed the boy had a terrible case of vocal diarrhea.

His chubby palm slammed upon his guilty lips, dark eyes widening in horror at his blunt words. Kennedy remained in her seat, amused but largely unmoving apart from continuing to stroke through Sawyer's fur.

"I am a little old, aren't I?", she looks at him with a playful glint in her eye.

"No.... um, that's not what I meant", the boy gulps and restructures his thoughts, "I'm sorry for saying that so rudely. Maman told me my tongue runs faster than my brain. I just meant to ask... meant to ask why you're on the boats with the first years instead of in the carriages with the older years".

"Because... because you're probably older than us. But probably not by much. Maybe three years older at the most", he rushes to explain, his glasses slid down his nose once again and he neglected pushing it up. Kennedy felt a strange urge to do it for him.

"You're older than us", he begins his sentence surely but trails off, now uncertain in the face of Kennedy's blank expression, "Right?".

She blinked at him blankly, purely to watch the slow scrunch of discomfort at his supposed blunder cloud his face.

"Your assumption is correct. I am older than the lot of you. By three years, to be exact, if I assumed that you're all eleven", Kennedy turned slightly to the other boy and girl in the boat, hoping maybe to engage them in conversation. They were occupied however, whispering close to each other in a manner that led Kennedy to believe they knew each other before boarding their rickety boat.

"You assumed correct. I am eleven", Jude piped up with a grin. Kennedy gathered that he sure liked to talk. "I'm not sure about the others", hematite eyes turned to the two shy figures in the boat.

Truthfully, Kennedy had not spent much time looking at her boatmates other than the boy who had spoken directly to her. The girl spoke first, "I'm eleven too". Her voice was low both in timbre and volume. Her brown eyes held an unmistakable grit in them that intrigued Kennedy.

The grit of her eyes seemed much too worn and tired for her eleven years. Perhaps that was why her chubby cheeks were adorned with bright stickers of clashing colors to remind people that despite her focused eyes, she was indeed a child and should be treated as such. A lone mole resided atop her upper lip - it reminded Kennedy of an acorn.

The other boy in the boat spoke inaudibly and repeated himself after a nudge and a hushed whisper from the girl by his side. "I just turned eleven" was his muffled repetition. A shy one, Kennedy guessed. Just from how he seemed to hunch into himself and how his knees rose over the rims of the boat, Kennedy guessed he was quite tall. Perhaps he was gangly too. Definitely awkward. It all checked out.

He was a striking boy, though, with the highest cheekbones Kennedy had ever seen. His skin was tanned brown and dark freckles spun stories across chubby cheeks and formed concentrated clusters like bright bursts of starlight. His nose crooked slightly to the left and his locks of messy black hair wisped against his ears and neck, slightly mussed backwards because of the sweeping wind. She smiled at him to maybe calm his nerves.

The boy looked behind him as if she could be looking at anyone else. She smiled at him again and he gave an odd grimace clearly meant to be a smile back in return.

Her attention returned to the dark skinned boy. His back was towards her as he stared at the looming castle they were slowly approaching.

His accent was peculiar. There was just something about his enunciation and diction that was not quite English yet she couldn't pinpoint what exactly that was. It was driving her crazy.

It was an amalgamation of two accents - an English one and one similar to her own. In her case, it was French and English blending to form an amalgamation of accents.

Her smooth way of speaking was distinctly English. Every syllable was evenly stressed and unrushed, taking her while to properly enunciate every word.

Her expressiveness when speaking was distinctly French. The way she spoke with her entire face, engaging muscles that most didn't ever think to utilize in order for her pronunciation to be fairly exact. French, all over.

And he did the same thing - syllables even and face engaged. Perhaps he was French, like her.

Unprompted, the boy in question turned around and introduced himself with a toothy smile, "I'm Jude Vernier".

Ah, Vernier. Perhaps he was from a Francophone country.

The two quiet occupants in the boat startled from their hushed conversation, prompted to introduce themselves by his bright offering up of his name.

The girl went first, as expected. "I'm Lola Jung", she said with a slight smile revealing greenish braces that had been recently installed if the visible gap between her two front teeth was anything to go by.

Next was the boy. "I'm Reggie Cerqueira", he said quietly, avoiding eye contact for most of his sentence but meeting Kennedy's eyes at the last second. He quickly looked away again.

"It's nice to meet you all, I'm Kennedy Bishop. Hopefully we can be good friends", she said with a bright smile, knowing that would most likely not be the case. They felt like a bunch of babies to her anyways. She was sure she would just be that one senior who was on the boat with them on their way to Hogwarts they could mention to their friends when they saw her in the halls.

"Hopefully", Jude smiled back at her with that wide smile of his. Kennedy smiled back and only realized when the boy's afro whipped around as he turned back to stare in wonder at the looming castle they were slowly approaching. She tilted her body to the side slightly to get a better view.

Ah, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - her new playground.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

AUTHOR'S NOTE!

kennedy scheming at all hours of the day to strategically control everything to make everything work in her favor:

on another note, here's yet another story that will most likely not see the light of day but i am deeply emotionally invested in and would give my life to protect.

this story will definitely be slow-burn. like long, angering, slightly annoying slow-burn because that's what we do here <3

DEDICATIONS !

 ironsxldier , sectxmsemmpra , rrenaisseance , bompous , archiveofink , steredenndared , RedRoots , whimsywitchess , TheGayNuTeLlA , Rubiasx , homelesscheesegrater , frankoceanlover62