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Twisted Fate by XxImAgInAiReXx
Chapter 1: The Triwizard Tournament
Okay, guys, new fic (as if I need another WIP). Hope you like it. It's a Triwizard Tournament fic, but the rules for the tournament are a bit un-cannon from Harry's fourth year, so bear with me.
“I swear the only reason I keep coming back to this school is for the food.” Scorpius mumbled around a mouthful of food.
“And Rose,” I pointed out; referring to the relationship a he and a certain Miss Weasley had shared since fourth year.
“And Rose.” Scorpius agreed. “But mostly the food.”
I snickered into my meal. This was why I kept Scorpius around, besides the fact that he’s my cousin (we’re very distantly related, but related all the same). He was funny. He took the serious things in life and made them into jokes.
“You shouldn’t let her hear you say that.” I told him. Rose had a temper on her and a whiny attitude. Scorpius could do much better than her, but they loved each other, I guess, and as long as he’s happy, I’m happy.
“D’you think if she did she’d repeat that time in fifth year?” Scorpius asked me with a huge, shit eating grin at the memory of the experience. Rose had thought that Scorpius was interested in other girls, so she had dressed up (ie: three top buttons of her shirt undone, thick makeup, tousled hair, short skirt, ect.) and chatted other guys up until Scorpius thoroughly snogged her. In public, right after serenading her in the Great Hall.
They got detention from Sprout for that one.
“Nah, I think Rose knows that she doesn’t have to compete with food for you.” I remarked, just as Scorpius stuck half of a chicken leg into his mouth and pulled it back out, with half of the meat gone and the bone stripped clean. “On second thought…”
Scorpius snorted, and ate the rest of his leg. “I know, I eat like a pig. Get over it.”
I shrugged. “I’m not the one who cares.”
Rose had been trying to change his eating habits since they started dating.
Scorpius’s answer to this was cut off short when the main course disappeared and the dessert materialized on the table. We both scraped an obscene amount of treacle tart onto our plates. We loved the stuff. It was one of the things that made us such good friends. We could bond over treacle tart.
Once dessert was finished, and the table was cleared of food, Headmistress Sprout stood up for her beginning of the year speech that was customary for all Headmistresses and Headmasters to make.
“Well,” She began. Her cheeks had red spots blooming on them and her hair was shoved under her hat like always, large flyaway tufts of it poofing out from under the hat at places. “Another year. Another set of adventures, and friends, and classes.” She paused, smiling. “I’m sure that your teachers will spend the first week going over rules, but I’m going to get mine all out of the way right now. The Forbidden Forest is, of course, forbidden. There will be absolutely no climbing on the Great Battle Memorial that is located on the front lawn. Mr. Filch would like me to inform you that all Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes products are banned, as are Zonko’s Joke Shop products, and all love potions. A complete list of banned products can be found posted on Mr. Filch’s office door, for all to see.” Sprout smiled at us.
“To the displeasure of many of you, all Quidditch matches of the year have been canceled.” Sprout informed us. There was an explosion of whispers at this, and some loud, indignant, ‘What?’s that came from Gryffindor table.
“But there is, of course, a very good reason for this.” Sprout said, and silence fell in the hall once more. “Because, this year, the Triwizard Tournament has been reinstated.”
Scorpius and I glanced at each other. The Triwizard Tournament? “Never thought they’d bring that back,” Scorpius muttered out of the corner of his mouth. I nodded in agreement. The last time the Triwizard Tournament had been reinstated, someone died and Voldemort rose.
Let’s just say it didn’t go very well.
“For those of you who don’t know what the Triwizard Tournament is, let me explain. The Triwizard Tournament is an inter-school tournament that tests three witch or wizards’ strength, magical ability, and skill level. It was discontinued many years ago, when the death toll got too high, but reinstated again, which, as many of you know, led to the rise of You-Know-Who.”
I rolled my eyes at this. Even now, some of the generation before us still can’t say his name.
“But we have worked hard to get this reinstated. And this year, the rules are a bit different.” Sprout grinned. “In previous years, the tournament was hosted at one school, and one school only. But this year, for a bit of diversity, it has been decided that the tournament will be hosted at all three participating schools, one task at each.”
“The schools participating are Salem Witch’s Academy of Magic, and Australia School of Magic. Both of the Heads at those schools are very dear friends of mine, so please be respectful to them. The first task will be hosted at Salem Witch’s Academy. One hundred students from our school, not including our champion, will be attending the first task. To go to the first task, you must hand in an application to your Head of House, who will review it, and, depending on your behavior and attitude, will decide whether you go or stay. Is that clear?”
A third year’s squeaky voice called, “How will the champions be picked? Can anyone sign up?”
Sprout smiled. “Ah, yes, I forgot all about that. Champions must write their name on a slip of paper, and their school, and put it into the Goblet of Fire. You must be fifteen or older to sign up for the Triwizard Tournament, due to safety reasons.” There was protest at this, but Sprout quieted the crowd. “If you would like to sign up, bring the slip of paper directly to my office. The Goblet of Fire resides in an agreed-upon location by the Heads of the three schools. We will all put our students’ slips into the Goblet, and bring back the results to our schools. Any more questions?” No hands went up. “Good! You may follow your prefects to your dormitories!”
There was a loud scraping noise as the benches were pushed back. Scorpius and I walked back to the Common Room, with complete disregard to where our prefects were. We had figured out early on that if we just told the wall a random password and told it that a prefect told us, it would let us in.
The Slytherin Common Room looked just as it always had. The high-backed chairs, fireplace, and worn oak coffee table were still in place. The window that tinted everything green, because it looked into the lake, topped off the whole ‘dungeon-y’ feel that I had learned to love perfectly. The spiral staircase that led to the dormitories was still there, as were the three bookshelves that lined the stone walls and the tasseled rug that covered the floor.
I sighed in relief, and resisted the urge to circle the Common Room, touching everything, just to make sure it was real. Instead, I yawned enormously, and Scorpius noticed. “Tired?” He asked. I nodded. “Yeah, me too.” He remarked. “Long day.”
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah.” I lead the way to the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. Scorpius followed me closely. At the top of the staircase, there was a single passage. On one side was the girls’ dormitories, and on the other, the boys’. To get into either of the sections, you had to climb seven steps. That prevented boys from getting into the girls’ dorms.
I took a right, and Scorpius took a left. I paused at the fourth door down, which was labeled ‘Sixth Years’, as I always did. “Goodnight, Scorpius.” I called.
“Goodnight, Addie.” He called back. I pulled open the door and entered my dormitory.
It was a square room, and a small one. Six girls including me occupied our dormitory. Six four-poster beds with emerald green-and-silver hangings and bed spreads occupied the room, three on each wall, lined up neatly. Six small nightstands stood to the left of every bed, and six wardrobes were placed in nooks and crannies, as if the designer of the room had overlooked them and remembered at the last moment. Two stood against the wall, out of the way of the door. Two more stood against the opposite wall, and the last two were separate. One stood next to my bed, and one next to Farhio’s.
In contrast, the bathroom was quite large, for a bathroom. It had three stalls, three sinks, one shower, and one tub. One year, Samantha brought a plush carpet from home to furnish our dorm with, and it ended up in the bathroom, right in front of the sinks. But Emerson, who was a talented Charmer, decided she liked it so much that she charmed it to cover the whole dormitory.
I crossed the room, sitting on my bed. My trunk was new this year. My name, Addison M. Nott, was printed on it in gold lettering. I admired the gleam as I played with a loose thread on my duvet. I strained my ears to hear something; anything. A noise to signal that I was not entirely alone. When I picked up on nothing, I began to panic. My breath quickened and my hand began to tremble. I was poised t run to Scorpius’s room to make sure he was still there when the door swung open, and an angry Emerson stormed in, followed by Farhio, Samantha, and Kristen.
“I cannot believe them!” Emerson fumed. “I just absolutely cannot believe them!”
I glanced at Farhio, giving her a question look, and she explained to me in a low voice what happened. “Em really wanted to sign up for the Triwizard Tournament. But Alex Finch-Fletchly said something to her—I’m not sure what, she won’t tell us—and she hexed him. Of course, Old Sluggy’s never liked Em, so it’s two weeks of detention and no sign-up privileges for her.”
“He banned her from the tournament?” I asked, my jaw hanging.
“Well, I’m sure she still can watch—oh she’s going for the bathroom—sorry, Addie, I have to pee—” Farhio bolted for the bathroom, slipping in just before Emerson slammed the door shut.
That left Samantha, Kristen and I in the dorm.
“Hello, Addie.” Samantha said. Samantha had a certain way of speaking that made me think of wisps of clouds, and Mrs. Scamander, whom I had met once. Dreamy wasn’t exactly the word for it—it was more airy. “How was your summer?”
“Fine, thanks you.” I said politely. My dorm mates and I weren’t close—but we weren’t adversaries, not by a long shot. I suppose that, if Scorpius ever abandoned me (a ridiculous notion, but I felt a wave of anxiety wash over at the thought) they would be the people I would go to, Farhio in particularly. “Where’s Sarah?”
“She’s chatting with the boys.” Kristen answered, referring to the boys in our year. “She grew over the summer—and not exactly in the height department, if you know what I mean. I think she’s showing off.”
I laughed. It sounded like a very Sarah thing to do. “Is it working?” I asked.
Kristen shrugged. “Probably. I didn’t stick around long enough to see.”
Farhio slipped out of the bathroom. I could hear Emerson’s hysterical walks before Farhio snapped the door shut. “She’s very emotional tonight.” She announced to us. “I think she’s on her period.”
“Argh, Farhio, you’re just like a sixteen year old boy. You think that if a girl is angry, they must be on their period. You never consider that they may actually be upset about something.” Sarah said as she entered the room. “So insensitive.
Farhio made and indignant noise. “I know something’s the matter! I just think she’s being more emotional than usual!”
Sarah sang under her breath, “Insensitive,” as she breezed to the bathroom and let herself in, hopefully to comfort Emerson.
Farhio turned to me. “I swear, some days I just want to strangle that girl.” She remarked.
“Don’t we all.” I sighed. “I’m going to bed before she can criticize my hair or something.”
I changed into my pajamas quickly and climbed into bed, closing the hangings to the light. I blocked out my dorm mate’s voices and Emerson’s sobs, and fell to sleep.
Thunder shook the castle. I shivered. If I could feel the storm all the way in the dungeons, it was bad.
Another boom, not as loud as the last one, but still loud. I sat up in bed. There was no way I was going to be able to sleep. I opened my hangings quietly and slipped my feet into my slippers. I felt around for something to wear over my pajama shirt, my hands landing on a thick piece of fabric. I tugged on it, and out came my Slytherin pride sweatshirt. I pulled it over my head, and set off to Scorpius’s dormitory.
I knew that Scorpius would be expecting me. I never could sleep during thunderstorms. He had figured this out in first year, when I finally summed up the courage to run to his dorm and ask him to keep me company. Instead of booting me out, like he should have, he offered to take a walk with me, and ever since then, every thunderstorm this castle saw during the night, Scorpius and I had taken walks.
I opened the sixth door down the boys’ hallway and shut it softly behind me. Scorpius’s dormitory was bigger than mine, and circular instead of a square. He slept in the bed second nearest to the bathroom, which was smaller than ours, so it was even, really.
I tiptoed over to his bed and sat on the end. Scorpius was a light sleeper, so as soon as the hangings rustled, he was awake. He turned over and sat up. He fumbled for his wand and muttered a spell. The tip lit up, and the bed was illuminated. I had been outside the hangings when Scorpius was reading at night, and you can’t see a thing. The hangings are charmed so light can’t escape, I think. I used to think of the bed with the hangings shut as a cave, when I was younger.
Scorpius didn’t look surprised to see me. “Addie,” He mumbled. “Do we have to take a walk tonight? I’m tired.”
“No,” I whispered. “But I can’t sleep.” Sometimes Scorpius and I did this. Sometimes we stayed in his dorm, rather than walked. We sat and talked until we fell asleep. Then his dorm mates woke us up and teased us about it, even though they knew very well that we were cousins.
I un-tucked the covers from my side of the bed and pulled them over my legs. Scorpius tossed me a pillow, and I stuck it under my back, leaning up against the wall, because Scorpius slept with his head on the other side. It was this odd paranoia of his that I didn’t really get.
Scorpius cast Muffliato on the hangings and put his wand back on the nightstand. It was weird, but Scorpius and I preferred to talk in the dark.
“Do you think you’ll put your name in the goblet?” Scorpius asked. I knew he was talking about the Goblet of Fire. It was a question I wanted to ask too, and I knew it would be a topic for this evening as soon as I had woken up to the first clap of thunder.
“Will you?” I asked.
“Well, probably.” He answered. “Even though I’m not expecting to be picked. I dunno, Dad would want me to. Bring honor back to the Malfoy name and all that.” Even though I couldn’t see him, I could tell Scorpius was rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, same here.” I said. “I don’t think I’d want to be picked, even if I put my name in. I mean, the tasks are supposed to be dangerous. What happens if you get hurt?”
“Madame Pomfrey patches you up, I suppose.” Scorpius said. “But I’d love to watch.”
“Me too.” I said fervently. “I would hate to not be picked to go.”
“I wonder what the tasks are going to be.” Scorpius mused. “The one that Dad saw had dragons.”
“The one that you dad saw also had Voldemort, but nobody mentions that.” I pointed out.
Scorpius made a noise. “You just have to be a downer, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “I’m just trying to keep it real. These tournaments have a track record of being dangerous.”
“I’ll feel sorry for the poor bloke who’s picked.” Scorpius said. I guess he could feel my glare, because he added hurriedly, “Or girl. It could be a girl.”
The rest of the night went like that. Somewhere along the line, one of us must’ve fallen asleep, because it seemed like one second we were talking and the next Scorpius’s dorm mates were waking us up to go to breakfast.
I sprinted back to my dormitory. My dorm mates and Scorpius’s dorm mates knew that I visited him during storms because I couldn’t sleep, but the rest of the house didn’t, and I didn’t want them to spread rumors.
“Thunderstorm last night?” Farhio asked when I entered the dormitory. I nodded. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Can I ever?”
When I got downstairs, Scorpius was already there, yawning at the breakfast table. “Do you have any spare parchment? A quill?” I asked.
“Here,” He said, handing them over. “Why?”
“I’m going to put my name into the Goblet.” I said with determination. “I know I said I wouldn’t want to be picked, but I won’t be able to live with myself if I know that I didn’t at least try to get picked.”
“I know, I know. I’m putting my name in too.” Scorpius said neutrally.
I scribbled my name down on the parchment and sat down. “I’ll bring my slip to Sprout after breakfast.” I told Scorpius. “Come with me?”
“Sure,” Scorpius said.
After breakfast, Scorpius and I made the trek up to Sprout’s office. The gargoyle sprung aside without a password, and at the top of the stone staircase, outside her door, there was a pedestal, and on that pedestal there was a coin box. It was padlocked closed. I wordlessly put my name into the flames. Scorpius followed suit, and we headed down to Herbology together.
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