Chapter Text
The next week returned somewhat to normal. Students still gossiped on how Harry could have possibly put his name in the Goblet, but classes commenced as if no such scandal had occurred. Though Snape was sure to make a few remarks in their potions class on Monday.
“In your seats,” Snape commanded as he entered the dungeon. Students– Slytherins mostly– who had been gossiping about Harry quickly returned to their seats. “I know that the events that occurred over the weekend may feel like some great scandal,” he continued, staring down his long nose, “however, a cheat made by the Gryffindors should come as no shock either.” The Slytherins snickered and Fiona could feel Katie fidget in her seat.
“We didn’t cheat,” Katie said under her breath.
Snape stared her down, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something you wish to share, Miss Bell?” he said, his black eyes burning a hole into Katie’s.
“No sir,” she mumbled.
“Pity,” he said as he returned to his table, his black cloak waving behind him. “Now, if you recall from last class, we discovered the properties of moonstone, but perhaps Miss Bell can refresh our memories.”
Katie groaned and said nothing, but Snape continued to glare waiting for her. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t remember,” she said gruffly.
“Ten points from Gryffindor,” Snape said, almost immediately. Katie was practically seething with hate. Fiona thought she might jump from her seat and strangle Snape herself. “And let this be a reminder,” he continued as he stalked the Gryffindors, “that the events of the Triwizard Tournament are no excuse for you to avoid your studies.”
…
“It’s rubbish!” Katie yelled as they made their way out of the dungeons.
“He’s always had it out for us Gryffindors, Katie, you know that,” Lucy said, trying to catch up to Katie whose anger seemed to fuel her speed.
“Ay… but it… serves him no excuse,” Gemma replied, out of breath.
“Well, it’s done now,” Katie said, stopping as they reached the Great hall. “I’m off to Runes. I’ll see you lot at dinner?” The girls nodded and went their separate ways.
It was rather odd, the vendettas the houses had against one another, Fiona thought. At Ilvermorny, there were more internal disputes within the houses than the houses against one another. Fiona thought it likely had something to do with traditional wizards being against muggles. In America it was the opposite. The Nomaj had it out for the wizards. Thankfully, after centuries, the Nomaj had been convinced that magic didn’t exist, and if you thought it existed, you were crazy. But it had been rather tumultuous in the beginning. Fiona recalled learning the Salem Witch Trials, sending a shiver down her spine.
Tuesday came and it was finally Fiona’s opportunity to join the Hogwarts Orchestra. She had spent her lunch period in the dorm warming up her instrument and trying it out again. It had been a few years since she played the flute, and embouchure had surely suffered slightly. So when she made her way to the Flitwick’s classroom for rehearsal that evening, she was particularly nervous.
“Oi! Fiona, over here!” Lucy called as she spotted Fiona. Fiona joined her with both excitement and nervousness coursing through her veins. Lucy stood next to a very blonde boy whom she introduced to Fiona as Edmund Graves.
“Hi,” he said, his bright blue eyes glimmering in the early evening light. “We’re so happy to have a flute player again.”
“Happy to be here,” Fiona said with a nervous smile.
“Here’s the music we’re playing at the moment,” Edmund said as he handed Fiona the parchment. Fiona took a look at the music and noticed it was titled “Flemel’s Waltz.” She panicked as she had never heard of it, but attempted to maintain a calm demeanor. “Don’t worry about how it sounds today,” Edmund continued. “We know this is your first time seeing the music.” Was her discomfort that obvious?
“Fiona, you’ll sit there,” Lucy said, pointing to a seat in the second to last row. “You’ll be next to Amelia Lewis. She plays the oboe.”
Fiona sat down, tentatively taking out her flute and setting its pieces together. Her mouth felt dry and her fingers sweaty. She knew she was putting far too much pressure on herself than she needed to, but she couldn’t help it.
“You're new,” a voice chirped beside her. It was Amelia, the oboist. She put her hand out for a shake. “Amelia. Hufflepuff. Fifth year.”
Fiona shook her hand, which had a bandage wrapped around her pointer finger. “Fiona. Gryffindor. Fifth year,” she echoed.
Amelia raised her eyebrows. “Blimey, you’re American!” Fiona blushed slightly before nodding. “Well, welcome to Hogwarts! I’m so glad you could join the orchestra. We’ve been desperate for a flute player!”
“Thanks!” Fiona replied, setting her music on the stand in front of her, “But I have to warn you I haven’t–”
Before Fiona could finish, Edmund caught the orchestra’s attention at the conductor’s podium. At once Amelia began playing her concert pitch.
“Christ,” Fiona thought. What was the concert pitch in an orchestra? In a Wind Ensemble it had been a B-flat. But was it the same in an orchestra? She couldn’t remember. She joined in quickly, her muscle memory kicking in as she played an A concert pitch instead of B-flat. If her active memory couldn’t be of much help, maybe her muscle memory could. It took a second for her pitch to adjust, but it did after all. The strings then tuned after the winds, and finally, the very small Professor Flitwick stood at the podium.
“Good evening, students,” he squeaked as he tapped his baton which was larger than his own body. “If you haven’t already provided your performance cloak sizes to Edmund, please do so as soon as possible. It is absolutely essential that you have these cloaks before the end of the semester.” Fiona made a note to do so before the end of rehearsal. “Now, if you’ll please open ‘Flamel’s Waltz’. We will start with Section A, measure twenty three. One– two– three–”
At once the orchestra began playing. Fiona had not been ready and scrambled to open her music to find where they were, but by the time she had found measure twenty-three, she was entirely lost.
“Thirty-two!” Amelia called out trying to help her, but Flitwick had already stopped.
“Now let’s see,” mumbled Flitwick. “Upper winds, let me hear you at measure twenty–three. One– two– three–”
Fiona had been ready that time and played the music as best she could, though her hands felt shaky. It took a couple tries, but she eventually fell into the rhythm of playing again and she found great joy in it. At the end of the rehearsal, she was sure to give Edmund her robe size and find Lucy. Together, they made their way to dinner.
“You were brilliant!” Lucy cheered. “Oh, I told Jude we wouldn’t miss him!!”
“You really think I sounded okay? I haven’t played in years,” she said, nervously scratching her arm.
Lucy celebrated even further at dinner, sharing Fiona’s success with the girls.
“What exactly are we preparing this piece for?” Fiona asked as she served some potatoes on to her plate.
“Fitwith ‘asn’t munshuned va’,” she replied, her mouth full of food.
“Byrne. Swallow first,” Gemma said, poking her fork in Lucy’s direction.
“Sorry,” she said, swallowing her mouth full of food. “Well, we only really have performances for Chinese New Year, but Flitwick’s been adamant about having this piece prepared before the semester’s out.”
“That’s strange. Wonder if there’ll be a Christmas event,” Fiona said.
Lucy shrugged and dug into her dinner.
“Heard you’re piping away on that flute of yours!” A voice said from behind. Fiona craned her neck to find George standing behind her.
“Yeah, had my first rehearsal today,” she said as he sat to her right. To her left Fred had stolen a chip off her plate. “Thief! Get your own plate!” She cried, covering her plate with her hand to prevent any other hands from wandering over and stealing another chip.
Fred laughed as he popped the chip into his mouth. “Whatever you say, pied piper.”
“Good one,” Fiona said sarcastically.
“So when can we hear you play?” George asked, pouring juice into his cup.
“We were just talking about that,” Fiona said.
“You might hear us sooner than you think,” Lucy said.
“What song? Anything we’d know?” Fred asked, serving up his own plate.
“Flamel’s Waltz? I’ve never heard of it,” said Fiona.
“A waltz— like a dance?” Gemma asked.
Katie just about choked on her drink. “We’re having a dance?”
“Who’s to say?” said Lucy.
“But— but I can’t dance!” Katie cried.
“Sure you can, Katie. We’ve seen you on the pitch!” George laughed.
“Quidditch and dancing are hardly the same thing,” Katie argued.
“Well, what do you do for prom?” Fiona asked. An immediate silence fell over the table as they all stared at her.
“Prom?” echoed Katie.
“Wot’s tha’?” said Gemma.
“It’s a dance. The upperclassmen get one at Ilvermorny…” Fiona explained, though there was still no response, “you don’t have prom? Even the Nomaj have prom!” They all shook their heads and mumbled “no”. Fiona shrugged.
“Maybe we’ll get something close to one!” Gemma said. Katie groaned and shrunk in her seat.
“Cheer up, Bell! Just have to find a partner who’ll lead the way on the dancefloor,” said George.
“You think we’ll have to find dates?” Asked Lucy. Katie groaned again, shrinking further into her seat.
“That’s what we do for prom, at least,” Fiona confirmed.
“You think Jude Squaggle will still be dating that cow, Cherie, by the time the dance comes around?” Lucy asked.
“I KNEW you liked him,” yelled Katie, pointing an accusatory finger in at Lucy, and laughing hysterically.
Lucy burned a bright red. But it wasn’t long before Gemma came to her defense.
“Oi,” she blurted, “we didn’t make you feel bad fer fancying Oliver Wood, did we?”
It was Katie’s turn to burn a bright red, and it made matters worse that her teammates, Fred and George, sat with them.
“Shove it, Gemma!” Katie hissed.
Fred and George looked at each other cautiously.
“Well!” Fred chirped, as he slowly stood from his seat. “Lee’s waiting for us over there so… I think we’ll just…” his voice faded as he walked away.
Georged laughed, patting Fiona’s shoulder. “See you, Jackson. And Katie,” he said leaning over her shoulder, “don’t sweat it. Your secret’s safe with us.”
Katie groaned again, laying her forehead on the table. Fiona’s face hurt as she tried desperately to suppress her laughter.
The week passed quickly with the anticipation of the first task. Excitement filled the air of the halls again, especially once Rita Skeeter’s interviews were released in the Daily Prophet.
“Merlin…”, Katie started at the breakfast table as she read her issue of the Daily prophet, “she makes Harry sound like a–”
“A prat?” Gemma interrupted. Lucy giggled at that. Katie looked up from her paper and nodded with wide eyes. “Ay, read it this mornin’. Skeeter makes em all sound like prats.”
“So, where should we take Fiona first? Zonkos?” said Lucy, finishing her morning toast. It was the first weekend that upperclassmen were allowed in the neighboring town of Hogsmeade. Fiona was itching to walk the ancient village.
“Definitely Honeydukes,” said Katie.
“I’d also fancy a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks,” Gemma said pointedly.
“Yes, don’t worry Gemma, we’ll go to The Three Broomsticks,” Katie said irritably. “This one goes mad if we don’t go to The Three Broomsticks on Hogsmeade weekend.”
“You have a problem,” Lucy teased.
“Piss off, Lucy. It’s not like they ‘ave alcohol in it!”
So the girls walked Hogsmeade, gazing at the gorgeous candies that Honeydukes displayed, checking out the jinxes and jokes Zonkos had (Fiona, not at all surprised to see Fred and George there), and finally, much to Gemma’s excitement, and having a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks. It was decently crowded with other students also making the pub their destination.
“You lot find us a seat” said Gemma as she took her coat off. “I’ll get us some drinks.”
It took some searching, but the girls were able to find a spot once a few locals had got up and left.
“Why’s Hermione by herself?” asked Lucy, as they made themselves comfortable.
“She’s usually studying when she doesn’t need to,” Katie scoffed.
“Right,” said Gemma as she approached, carefully holding a tray of four butterbeers that dribbled over their mug’s rims. “Four butterbeers.”
Fiona took a sip and quite enjoyed the flavor of the sweet beverage. She looked around to see what the other students were drinking and noticed the badges some of they were wearing.
“Potter stinks?” Fiona said squinting at the badge Justin Finch-Fletchley was proudly dawning from across the pub.
“Ay, the Hufflepuffs seem quite proud of that one,” Gemma said as she sipped her butterbeer.
“It’s so unlike them,” said Lucy. “And naturally, the Slytherans have chipped in.”
“They have it out for Potter, that’s for sure,” Katie said before taking a rather large swig of her beverage.
“The first task is Tuesday, innit?” Gemma asked.
“Yeah it is. Do we know what the task is yet?” Fiona added, taking a long gaze at the man running the bar. He looked over worked.
Katie slammed her mug down after chugging her last drop of butterbeer. “Not a clue,” she said, licking her lips, “I reckon they won’t mention anything until the day of.”
“If it’s those blast-ended skrewts, I reckon the champions won’t stand a chance,” said Lucy. They all laughed as they recalled Hagrid’s unfortunate situation with the skrewts.
“Having fun without us?” said a voice from behind Fiona. She craned her neck to find, yet again, the Weasley twins lurking behind her.
“Eavesdropping again, Weasleys? It’s a nasty habit you have,” said Katie, who was joking only slightly.
“Eavesdropping or just at the right place at the right time?” Fred replied. “Anyway, we’re just up to get another drink”
“That and we’ve had just about enough of our dear brother, Ronald,” said George, nodding to his table where Lee and Ron still sat.
“Surprised he’s not sitting wiv Hermione,” said Gemma.
“No, their trio’s having a bit of a tiff at the moment,” Fred said in a low voice. Not that Ron or Hermione would be able to hear, there were too many people in the pub.
“What happened?” Fiona asked.
“Well, Ronald won’t admit it, but he’s a bit jealous of Harry,” George said, less worried that his brother would hear.
“Jealous he got picked for the championship?” Katie inquired.
They both nodded.
“That’s silly,” said Lucy. “I mean, of course we all wish we could be champion…”
“Yeah,” Fred interrupted, “Ron’s a bit angry that Harry didn’t tell him he was going to put his name in.”
“But Harry didn’t do it,” Fiona said confidently. They all looked at her suddenly.
“How can yeh be sure?” asked Gemma.
“Well,” Fiona started, outlining the rim of her mug, “He seemed pretty adamant about it. And, I don’t know Harry well, but from what everyone’s told me, he doesn’t seem like the type who would lie. Especially to his friends.”
There was a brief moment of silence before Katie chipped in. “I agree,” she said. “I mean, weird things happen to Harry all the time. AND someone’s tried to kill him at Hogwarts every year. Remember Sirius Black last year?”
The girls nodded.
“Say that’s true,” George started, “but he’s just using that as a reason for us to believe he DIDN’T put his name in the Goblet…”
Fiona shook her head. “Weasley,” she started, rather disappointed he would even consider the other option. “Do you REALLY think Harry’s the type to do something like that?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say he WASN’T–”
“George…”
“No… I guess not.”
“Right then,” Fred said suddenly, knocking on the table as if to conclude the conversation. “Another butterbeer?”
“Yeah, that’d be perfect,” said George, straightening up. “See you, Jackson.”
“What hold do you have on George?” Lucy asked upon their departure.
“What do you mean?” Fiona replied.
“He folded so quickly,” said Katie, her eyes wide, “I’d kill to have that ability, especially on the pitch!”
Fiona shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “He was being ridiculous about Harry.”
“He fancies you,” said Lucy.
Fiona frowned. “What makes you say that?” she said, in a rather challenging tone.
Lucy only shrugged. “A hunch.”
Fiona shook her head. There was no way George could fancy her. He barely knew her. And besides, there were plenty of other girls at Hogwarts he knew better. Still, the idea that George could like her excited Fiona ever so slightly.
It was finally Tuesday, the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, and the school was certainly buzzing with Energy. Fiona was a bit bummed, however, due to Orchestra rehearsal being canceled for the evening events, however the morning classes ensued as usual.
“Why do we even have classes at all?” Lucy whispered, while Professor Flitwick was reviewing the Summoning Charm. They had already learned the Summoning Charm, Accio, and Fiona felt quite confident in her ability to use it, but nonetheless Flitwick always went over charms twice.
“What do you mean?” Fiona whispered back, a little more obviously though Flitwick would never take notice.
“I can hardly focus!”
“Well it’s a good thing we’re just going over content we already know, then.”
“Right, but McGonagall’s probably got a whole lesson prepared,” Lucy said, cringing at the thought of having to use her brain.
But when they arrived at Transfigurations, they were surprised to find that there was no lesson prepared at all. In fact, just like Flitwick, McGonagall only prepared a review.
“It’s comforting to know that not even the teachers can focus,” whispered Gemma.
“Quiet, Miss Droll,” said McGonagall. Gemma smiled guiltily, and returned back to her paper. It seemed that concentration suffered, but McGonagall’s expectation of a quiet classroom had not.
After what felt like hours, the class period ended and the girls raced to their dorms to change out of their uniforms and into spirited, yet warm, clothing.
“Do you think I’ll need a hat?” Lucy asked, lacing up her boots.
“Let me see,” Katie replied, opening the window and sticking her hand out to test the chill. “It’s a bit nippy, but if the wind picks up you’ll want a hat.”
“I haven’t got a red Gryffindor scarf,” said Fiona, whose wardrobe mostly consisted of pinks and purples.
“Here, have mine,” said Gemma, handing her the classic red and gold scarf. “I’ve an extra.”
Warm, red, and fashionable, the girls made their way to the common room. Fred and George were already attempting to sell their Weasley Wizard Wheezes products, pressuring a redheaded girl into buying something when Fiona approached.
“No, George, I DON’T want that!” the girl said, placing her hands on her hips in a defiant stance.
“But what if you have to go DURING the tasks? What will you do then?” said Fred, shaking his head.
“I think I’ll manage, thanks,” she said, starting to walk away, nearly running into Fiona.
“Ope, sorry,” Fiona said, stepping aside to let the girl through.
“Whatever you do, don’t buy anything they offer. No deal is worth making if it’s with them,” she said before tossing her long red hair over her shoulder and starting for the portrait hole.
“Oi, Ginny! Way to promote your brothers’ business!” George said.
“Piss off!” she called as she walked through the portrait hole.
Fiona laughed. “Is that your sister? I didn’t know you had one,” she said, eyeing the dangerous looking products in their orange briefcase.
“Yeah, she’s the youngest of us,” said Fred.
“But the way she bosses us around you’d think she’s the oldest,” remarked George. “Oi, Jackson, care to try our new product? It’ll stop you up!”
“Perfect for a long quidditch match,” added Fred.
“Or even a task in the Triwizard Tournament,” George winked.
Fiona paused, taking in what the Weasley’s just told her. “What are you calling it?” she asked, curious, though she would never purchase one.
“It’s a working title,” said George.
“We’re thinking ‘Stopper-Upper Stocking-Stuffer,” added Fred, who seemed quite proud of the name.
“Okay, well where I’m from we just call it ‘Imodium’,” said Fiona, rather unimpressed by the name.
“So it’s a working title,” George waved his hand dismissively. “We still think you should give it a go!”
“Not today,” Fiona grimaced. “Come and find me when I’ve got the stomach flu, then we can talk.”
Together, after connecting with Lee and Angelina, they made their way down to the enclosure where the first task would commence. The enclosure was surrounded by stands where students and staff found their seats. Rocky terrain lined the floor of the enclosure and a pile of sticks was woven into what looked like a nest. As Katie had predicted, the wind had picked up and it was indeed chilly. She was thankful for Gemma’s scarf.
“What do you think it could be?” Angelina asked, looking around for more clues. Everyone had their guesses but it wasn’t confirmed once a whistle was blown and Cedric emerged from the champion’s tent. The Hufflepuffs roared with cheers, as did members of other houses. The Gryffindors clapped respectfully, but it wasn’t Cedric they were there to support.
And out came a dragon, a very large intimidating one at that. The crowd ooh’d and ahh’d as no one had yet seen a dragon up close before. Fiona’s jaw, however, was on the floor.
“Dragons?” she said in disbelief. “They have to fight dragons?”
And as if answering Fiona’s question Ludo Bagman confirmed that Cedric’s goal was to steal her golden egg without facing defeat from the Swedish Short-Snout.
“That’s mental!” Angelina said.
“Sure but it makes for GREAT entertainment!” said Lee, who clapped his hands in excitement.
“But what about Harry? He’ll have to do the same?” Fiona asked.
“Seems like it,” George shrugged. “But don’t worry, Harry’s fought off a Troll–”
“An Acromantula–” added Fred.
“And a Basilisk,” said George. “I’m sure a dragon won’t be a challenge for him.”
Without waiting any longer, Cedric lunged for the golden egg, not without defense from the Dragon who tried whipping her tail at him and missed him by only inches.
“Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow,” Bagman announced.
Fiona bit her nails nervously as Cedric dodged many attempts by the dragon’s tail. He seemed to be agitating the Dragon more, using spells Fiona wasn’t familiar with.
“He’s taking risks, this one!” Bagman announced.
Cedric had agitated the Dragon again and again, until finally she breathed fire. Cedric, thinking quickly, attempted to reflect the fire against the dragon, though not well enough as the fire nicked his face.. They all hoped some degree of burn would be left on the dragon, but she remained unharmed.
“Clever move — pity it didn’t work!” Bagman cheered.
“I wish he’d just shut up!” said Lee who had been side-eyeing Bagman since his commentating began.
“Oh, please, you’re just jealous that they didn’t ask you to commentate on the Tournament,” Angelina teased.
“Maybe I am!” Lee replied, sticking his nose in the air. “But don’t tell me I wouldn’t do a better job than Bagman is!”
Finally, after attempting various spells, Cedric transfigured a boulder into a red dog which ran around the enclosure and barked madly, distracting the dragon. Cedric seized the opportunity and snatched the egg. The crowd erupted into cheers. Even Fiona, though it was more out of relief that Cedric wasn’t scorched to death.
“Very good indeed!” Bagman was shouting. “And now the marks from the judges!”
From where she was sitting, she couldn’t see the judges scores, but she assumed they were great by the Hufflepuffs' reactions. Cedric raised a triumphant fist in the air and returned to the tent.
“One down, three to go!” Bagman yelled as the whistle blew again. “Miss Delacour, if you please!”
The platinum blonde girl shyly appeared, her hair in a ponytail, and sporting a athletic skirt and top. And on the other side of the enclosure stood a Common Welsh Green, slinking protectively around her egg. The stands were almost silent, curious as to what would happen next. Fleur and the dragon stared at each other cautiously for only a moment before Fleur tried making a break for it. The dragon uncoiled itself, attempting to use its tail to whip Fleur from coming any further. It came down on Fleur fast, though she was quick to lunge out from underneath it.
“Oh, I’m not sure that was wise!” cried Bagman.
“No shit,” Lee mumbled under his breath.
Fleur whipped out her wand, attempting to summon the egg, but to no avail it didn’t come. The dragon marched towards the small blonde, roaring loudly.
“Stupify!” cried Fleur, as she pointed her wand at the dragon. The spell only angered the dragon more, as it spread its wings, flapping them angrily, so she hovered a few feet above fleur. The dragon inhaled greatly, and spewed out a furious line of fire. Fleur, who was able to predict what would come next, hid behind a large boulder, protecting herself from the line of fire.
“Good lord, I thought she’d had it then!” said Bagman.
Fleur caught her breath and reappeared from behind the boulder, pointing her wand intentionally at the dragon. She waved it a few times, and the dragon began to stumble. Its breathing slowed, and the dragon collapsed into a deep slumber. Fleur took her chance to seize the egg, but was torched by the dragon, who breathed fire when it snored. Fleur screamed and did a funny dance until her skirt was out, and triumphantly took the egg. The crowd erupted into cheers; the Beauxbaton students wiping their nervous tears and hugging each other frantically.
“A bit much, don’t you think?” Angelina said as she watched the Beauxbaton students comfort each other.
Fiona shrugged. “They’re French. They’re always ‘a bit much.’”
It wasn’t long before Viktor Krum appeared where the others had stood. Across from him seethed the Chinese Fireball, already irritated and on edge. They both stood, yards from one another, surveying their opponent. And without warning the dragon rushed towards Krum, letting out a blast of fire. Krum used his wand to counter the fire, though she wasn’t close enough to be scorched. He leapt forward, his wand in the air, shouting a curse at the dragon. The Dragon fell backward, and attempted to get up but stumbled. He seemed lost.
“Blimey,” said Angelina. “He’s blinded the poor beast!”
The dragon, still blind and stumbling, sniffed around for Krum. But on her search for her opponent, accidentally squashed the real dragon eggs.
Fiona gasped. “Oh no!” she cried. She hated watching these poor beasts get tortured. While the dragon was still blinded, Krum ran underneath her and leapt for the golden egg.
“That’s some nerve he’s showing,” said Bagman. “And — yes, he’s got the egg!”
The crowd cheered, amazed at how quickly all of the champions had retrieved their eggs. And without warning, Harry appeared. He seemed so small compared to Krum, and even smaller compared to the Hungarian Horntail that stood at the other end of the enclosure, crouched around its eggs. It snarled at Harry, smoke billowing out of its nose. The stands were rowdy, some in a positive attitude, some not.
“Naturally they give the worst-tempered dragon to the smallest champion. It’s sick,” cried George.
“C’mon Harry!” Fiona and her friends cried.
More noise from the crowd followed as they watched Harry, curious as to what he would do. He stood still, staring at the dragon for only a moment more, before pointing his wand at the sky.
“Accio, Firebolt!” He cried, but nothing happened.
“Is he allowed to do that?” Lee asked.
“I don’t know but it’s the best chance he’s got. Harry on a broom is invincible!” said Angelina.
Moments later, a broomstick flew through the air, straight into Harry’s hands. He swung his legs over the broom and soared off into the air. The horntail pulled its head back, inhaling and preparing to breathe out a furious breath of fire. Harry diverted the line of fire with great agility. Fiona and her friends gasped, as it had been very close.
“Great Scott, he can fly!” yelled Bagman. “Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?”
Harry made numerous attempts at snatching the egg, but the Horntail was adamant about protecting her eggs. She breathed fire and whipped her tail, nailing Harry in the shoulder at one point. Fiona clung to George’s arm, it was a true nailbiter.
Harry, who had disoriented the Dragon away from her eggs, dove straight for the nest where he collected the great golden egg.
“Look at that!” Bagman yelled. “Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!”
The Gryffindor side of the stands was mad with excitement. Fiona hugged all of her friends so fiercely. She suddenly understood why the Beauxbaton students had all been crying.
It wasn’t long before the final scores and placements of each champion was announced. Fleur came in third, Cedric in second, and Harry and Viktor were tied for first. The news of Harry’s placement sent the Gryffindors into a frenzy. They hollered with joy and glee and raced back to the common room where they were to celebrate even further.
Fiona and Angelina threw up streamers while Dean Thomas hung hand-drawn banners, Fred and George snuck down to the kitchens for snacks, while Lee had set up Filibusters Fireworks. The Gryffindors prepared for Harry's arrival with great excitement.
They only had to wait a little longer before Harry arrived. Lee was sure to set off the fireworks once Harry and his friends stepped through the door. Everyone cheered and welcomed him in. Harry, who seemed like he hadn’t eaten in a week, chowed down on all of the food that Fred and George had nicked. Though he didn’t eat in silence, as everyone questioned him about the golden egg of which he left on a table to eat.
“Blimey, this is heavy,” said Lee, picking up the golden egg and weighing it in his hands. “Open it, Harry, go on! Let’s just see what’s inside it!”
“He’s supposed to work out the clue on his own,” Hermione said swiftly. “It’s in the tournament rules. . . .”
Harry muttered something into Hermione’s ear that only she heard, but it was enough to shut her up.
“Yeah, Harry! Open it!” said Fiona, eager to see what would happen
“Go on, then!” added Katie, who was also curious.
Harry set down his plate of food, taking the egg back from Lee. He dug his finger into a crack within the egg, and pried it open. At once a terrible screeching noise wailed throughout the room. Fiona dropped her plate of food to cover her ears. She had never heard something so awful, except for maybe the time Apollo tried learning the violin.
“Shut it!” Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.
“What was that?” said Seamus Finnigan, one of Harry’s roommates, who was staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. “Sounded like a banshee. . . . Maybe you’ve got to get past one of those next, Harry!”
“It was someone being tortured!” said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. “You’re going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!”
“Don’t be a prat, Neville, that’s illegal,” said George. “They wouldn’t use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing . . . maybe you’ve got to attack him while he’s in the shower, Harry.”
“Want a jam tart, Hermione?” said Fred. Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned. “It’s all right,” he said. “I haven’t done anything to them. It’s the custard creams you’ve got to watch —”
Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out.
Fred laughed. “Just my little joke, Neville. . . .”
Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, “Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?”
“Blimey, here we go,” muttered Angelina.
“Yep,” said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. “‘Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!’ They’re dead helpful . . . get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish.”
“How do you get in there?” Hermione said in an innocently casual sort of voice.
“Easy,” said Fred, “concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and —” He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. “Why?”
“Nothing,” said Hermione quickly.
“Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?” said George. “Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?”
Fiona snickered at the thought. She never had a house elf, but she knew how much they challenged Hermione’s attempt to free them. She had heard about how messy they left her dorm after she tried to leave various objects around, ones that would free them.
“Don’t you go upsetting them and telling them they’ve got to take clothes and salaries!” said Fred warningly “You’ll put them off their cooking!”
Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary. Fiona and Angelina just about spit out their drink as they laughed at the bird-like Neville.
“Oh — sorry, Neville!” Fred shouted over all the laughter. “I forgot — it was the custard creams we hexed —”
Neville finally molted after a few more minutes and joined in on the laughter. Poor kid, thought Fiona. But at least he could take a joke.
“Canary Creams!” Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. “George and I invented them — seven Sickles each, a bargain!”
“Those boys,” started Katie, “always trying to make business.”
“Hey, I’ve got my dad’s boombox!” shouted Lucy. “Maybe I’ll go get it! We can play music and dance.”
“Boombox?” questioned Katie, who had never heard of the mechanism.
“It’s a muggle thing. Amplifies music. I’ve got one at home too!” Fiona said. She thought about her various tapes she left in the London flat and thought about asking her mother to send them. She especially missed listening to Hole’s “Live Through This”.
Lucy returned to the common room with a large black boombox. It looked very different from the one Fiona’s had which was silver.
“Woah, what model is this?” she asked, standing over Lucy and inspecting the device.
“It’s an AIWA XR90!” Lucy replied as she popped a tape in, “It’s my dad’s from a couple years ago.”
“It looks so futuristic!” Fiona admired, “Mine is from ‘88. It’s a SABA RCP-692.”
“Oh I’ve heard of that one! I heard it’s great!” Lucy said, pressing play. At once a jangly guitar and drums came through, followed by the most enchanting voice Fiona had ever heard.
“Who is this? I’ve never heard of them,” Fiona said, bopping along to the beat.
“The Sundays! They’re my favorite,” Lucy said, joining in on the beat.
“Her voice is amazing.”
Lucy nodded furiously. “Harriet Wheeler! She has the voice of an angel, that one!” she said, turning up the music and pulling Seamus Finnigan to his feet for a dance. Fiona stayed by the boombox, admiring the song that played.
“ACTUALLY THERE’S SOMETHING I’VE FOUND
IS THAT WE’RE JUST FLESH AND BLOOD
WELL, NOW THERE’S SOMETHING I’VE FOUND
IS THAT WE’RE JUST SKIN AND BONE”
“Cheerful lyrics, innit,” said Gemma, munching on her snacks.
“Who cares, her voice is amazing!” Fiona replied, her eyes closed as she bopped along to the beat.
Gemma laughed at that then tapped Fiona and pointed at Lucy who was still dancing with Seamus. “Think she’s finally gotten over Jude Squaggle?”
Fiona giggled and watched Seamus attempt to dance but he was tripping over his own feet more than actually dancing. “You can’t blame her. It’s hard not to fall in love with someone who dances like that” Fiona teased.
The first song finished and a new one started. It was more upbeat than the one before, but just as jangly, and Harriet’s voice clearer than ever. More students joined in the dancing, even Gemma, who was invited to dance by Dean. Fiona remained by the boombox, perfectly content to just listen to The Sundays, until George approached her.
“Don’t dance?” he asked her.
“I’m just entranced by this band. Ever heard of The Sundays?” George shook his head. “Me neither, but I’ll definitely be looking for a tape as soon as I get the chance.”
“Tape will have to come later,” George said, gently taking her hand and pulling her into the center where the others danced.
Fiona was hesitant at first. She loved to dance on her own, but had never danced with someone else let alone another boy. George took her hands twisting her side to side, she was stiff at first but she finally loosened up. It seemed like the whole common room was in good spirits and dancing to the music. Angelina and Fred had also partnered up, Fred aggressively spinning her away and pulling her in again. It seemed a bit violent to Fiona, but Angelina seemed to be laughing and enjoying herself.
Things died down once Harry had gone to bed, but at that point it was one o’clock in the morning. Fiona yawned and Lucy packed up her boom box.
“I think I’m off to bed,” she told George, who had invited her to not one, not two, not three, but MANY dances.
“I tire you out?” George replied with a smirk.
“Exhausted me, really,” Fiona teased. “No, enjoyed the dancing. Really.” Fiona smiled at George and he smiled back. She wished him a brief goodnight before starting towards the stairs of her dormitory.
“Then we should do it again, sometime,” George called to her. Fiona turned. “Dancing.”
“I’d love that,” Fiona said with a sincere smile.