The Call of the Scar
written by Lorelei Malfoy
(This is the fourth Harry Potter book with my OC thrown in. Enjoy :)) Lorelei Weasley is the twin sister of Ron Weasley. (She's only two minutes younger, for Merlin's sake, but Ron would never let her forget that.) She transfers to Hogwarts in her fourth year and adventures with the infamous Boy Who Lived and the other two members of the Golden Trio ensues...
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
2
Reads
432
Can't Be All Rot!
Chapter 2
The campsite is a ruin now, drifting in smoke. A child appears, tear-streaked, wailing for his mother. Harry is still lying upon the ground. His eyelids flutter...
A figure strides through the teeming smoke like a ghost. The man pauses, surveys the devastation before him, and lifts his wand into the sky.
"MORESMORDRE!"
A peal of thunder shakes the earth and an eerie green blooms in the sky. Harry squints painfully, gripping his scar and peers up. A colossal skull of emerald stars erupts in the sky, a serpent coiling from its mouth. A shriek pierces the night and Harry's eyes shift, finding the motherless boy a few yards away, howling in terror at the sky.
Harry looks back, toward the man in the distance, and sees he's coming forward. The shrieking boy turns an darts away. Harry's fingers reach for his wand, eyes squinting through the smoke, trying to see the approaching man's face, but all is still a blur, the smoke like black fog, the man a wavering wraith as he draws closer and closer...
"Harry!"
Harry's heart unclenches at Lory's voice and he audibly sighs in relief. Hermione, Ron, and Lory- tiny dots- race across the campsite. The man stops, looks, then withdraws into the smoke and vanishes.
"Harry!" Lory calls again.
"Thought we'd lost you, mate. And then..." Ron nods nervously to the sky.
"What is that?" Harry follows his eyes to the monstrous thing in the sky.
"Don't you know...?" Hermione asks, confused.
Just then, a popping fills the air and- one after another- ten ministry wizards apparate into view, wands poised.
"DUCK!" Harry exclaims, and the group does as told.
"STUPEFY!"
As they hit the ground, ten jets of fiery red light electrify the air inches above their heads.
"Stop! Those are my children!" Arthur dashes to the rescue.
"Are you lot alright?" Arthur breathes hurriedly.
"Which one of you conjured it?"
Harry and the others turn and watch Barty Crouch- a stiff man with a toothbrush mustache and steely eyes- emerge through the haze.
"Mr. Crouch, you can't possibly-"
"Do not lie! You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!" Crouch points his wand shakily to all of the teens, alternating between each one.
"Crime?" Harry states incredulously.
Crouch wheels, pointing his wand directly at Harry, eyes glittering lethally when... he notices Harry's scar.
"Barty. They're just kids." Amos interjects. Harry watches Crouch blink. Lory side-steps in front of Harry and draws him close to her. Crouch lowers his wand.
"What crime?" Harry speaks again.
Lory turns to him and nods at the sky. "That... it's the Dark Mark, Harry. It's... his mark." she whispers carefully.
"Voldemort?" Harry questions. Lory shushes him. "You can't keep saying that..." She reminds.
A disturbed murmur ripples through the wizards at Harry's utterance of the name. Ron looks particularly pained.
"Why do you always have to do that?" He sighs.
"Those people tonight- in the masks- they're his too, aren't they? His followers."
"Death Eaters." Arthur confirms solemnly.
Harry considers his, then gazes back down the beach, toward the spot where the mysterious figure appeared.
"There was someone before. A man. There." Harry points. Everyone turns to look.
"A man? Who, Harry?" Lory eyes him carefully.
"Dunno. One minute he was there, then... not. I never saw his face. Could've been anybody..." Harry is beginning to realize that his witness is of no value without any facial recognition.
Harry glances upwards, clinging to the sky like a stain is the Dark Mark.
_________ Hogwarts Express
Students hang out of compartment doors, talking and laughing while an old woman pushes a candy trolley up to Harry, Ron, Lory, and Hermione's compartment.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?" The trolley witch asks, out of breath.
Harry and Ron leap up, while Hermione and Lory continue to read the Daily Prophet. There's a photograph of the Dark Mark, a headline screams: "TERROR AT THE WORLD CUP."
"I'll have a pack of Droobles. And a licorice wand and..." Ron digs into his pocket and frowns. "On second though, just the Droobles."
"S'alright, I'll get it-"
"Just the Droobles." Ron firmly interjects for Harry.
Ron takes his gum and quickly ducks back into the compartment. Harry frowns, feeling guilty, when a sweet voice sounds.
"One Pumpkin Pastie, please."
Harry turns and finds a very pretty dark-haired girl standing by the cart. Sensing Harry's gaze, she looks up and smiles. Taking her treat, she heads off.
"Something sweet for you, dear?" The trolley witch leans to speak to Harry. He looks down at her.
"Huh? Oh. No. I'm not... hungry." He decides. Harry watches Cho's lithe figure retreat, watching until she slips into a compartment and is gone.
"Head out of the clouds, Potter." Lory calls from inside the compartment as the trolley witch moves to the rest of the train. Harry diverts his attention to her, seeing she hasn't even lifted her head from the Daily Prophet. He rolls his eyes.
"This is bad. Very bad..."
Harry turns and sees Hermione shaking her head darkly behind the Prophet's screaming front page. Harry considers the image of the Dark Mark and accompanying article: "DARK MARK STIRS OLD FEARS (First Sighting in Thirteen Years)," then eyes the photo of the article's author, Rita Skeeter. Hermione snaps the paper shut and stares at him.
"It's hurting again, isn't it? It was hurting that morning too. The day of the World Cup?" Lory's gaze is gentle and concerned, but Harry doesn't reciprocate. Ron, full of gum, stops chewing, eyeing Harry with trepidation.
"I'm fine." Harry snaps. Lory's hand withdraws from his shoulder without a word. Hermione's eyebrows furrow and her eyes briefly flicker from Lory to Harry with distain.
"Suit yourself. But at least tell him. You know he'd want you to." Hermione eyes Harry with determination. Harry sighs.
_________
"DEAR SIRIUS"...
Harry rolls up the parchment, fixes it to Hedwig's leg, and lets her fly free of his hands and through the open window.
Hedwig soars high, leaving the train behind as she knits her way across the sky. On the horizon, a castle appears.
__________
The Hall glows magically, decked out for the start-of-term feast. Albus Dumbledore addresses the House Tables from the top of the Hall while Flitwick, Hagrid, McGonagall, and Snape look on. Filch flowers from the rear doors.
"Mr. Filch, our beloved caretaker, has informed me that the list of objects forbidden within the castle now includes Screaming Yo-Yos, Fanged Frisbees, Ever-Bashing Boomerangs, and Chocolate Marshmallow Bunnies." There is a mischievous beat before he continues. "I'm joking about that last one. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items and may be viewed in Mr. Filch's office." Dumbledore smiles.
"Mental. Always has been." Ron grumbles from where he sits at the Gryffindor table.
Harry grins and glances to the Ravenclaw table, seeing Cho grinning appreciatively at Dumbledore as well. Lory follows his gaze and smirks. "Catching feelings, are we?" She mumbles just loudly enough for Harry to hear, who turns.
"What?" He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.
"The Chang girl. Pretty, isn't she?" Lory glances back at her. Harry suppresses a smile.
"Shut up." He pushes her.
"Not likely." Lory shrugs.
"Now. There is, apparently, a rather nasty rumor flying about the school that Quidditch will not be played this year. That rumor, I'm here to tell you... is absolutely true." Dumbledore announces with suspense. Indignation fills the Hall. Dumbledore smiles in amusement.
"There is an explanation. You see, Hogwarts will this year play host to a legendary event. An event that has not taken place in over one hundred years... the Triwizard Tournament." Excitement hakes the Hall, one voice ringing clear:
"You're joking!" Fred exclaims. Lory puts a hand over her face and peeks under it, watching as her classmates watch her brother make a fool of himself and hiding from under the palm of her hand.
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley. For those of you know do not know, the Triwizard Tournament was originally conceived some seven centuries ago as a way for the three largest European wizardry schools to engage in a series of magical contests while their respective student bodies experienced the benefits of cross-cultural social intercourse."
A crackling, albeit bewildered, silence hangs in the air.
"In other words: One got to spend the entire year getting to know people who spoke a funny language. Unfortunately due to a distressing high death toll, the Tournament was cancelled..."
Hermione's brows knit together with dark concern.
"Then why the bloody hell are they bringing it back?" Lory leans over Hermione's shoulder to voice her concerns. Hermione leans back and reciprocates her expression. "You're asking the wrong person, Lory." she sighs.
"... until now. Tomorrow, delegations from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magical Arts and the Durmstrang School of Wizardry will journey to Hogwarts. This year, our home will be their home. I ask only that you endeavor to make it a happy one."
______________ HOGWARTS BATTLEMENTS-EVENING
Students- Harry, Ron, Lory, and Hermione among them- crowd the parapets, buzzing with anticipation. Far below, Dumbledore has assembled the staff as a kind of welcoming party.
Suddenly a rumble fills the sky and a team of winged Horses cleave the clouds, pulling a gigantic powder-blue carriage. Through one of the windows, a beautiful woman peers down. With an earth-shaking thud, the carriage lands.
Just then, great bubbles roil the glassy surface of the Black Lake and a long black mast pierces the water, rising higher and higher. A black ship rises out of a great rushing whirlpool of water, looking skeletal and ghostly in the half-light. A dark figure strides out onto the deck- tall, thin, ad sleek.
______________COURTYARD
Students scramble into position and turn expectantly to Dumbledore, who stands before the staff. Lory notices a man near the back and nudges Harry. It's Barty Crouch.
"What's he doing here?" She asks in a low whisper. Harry shrugs without a word and diverts his attention.
"Please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!" Dumbledore bellows.
Music begins- light and fanciful- and a woman in a diaphanous gown strides into the courtyard. She is beautiful. She is elegant. She is ten feet tall.
"Blimey. That's one big woman." Seamus stares shamelessly up at her.
Then, one by one, a procession of stunningly beautiful Beauxbatons girls enter in graceful synchronization. Clad in silky, skin-clinging robes, they make a decided impression on Ron- and every other boy present. Hermione and Lory are less persuaded.
"It's indecent to stare at women like that, idiot." Lory shoves her elbow into Ron's and he grunts.
"Lay off, would you?" He sneers, earning Lory's tongue sticking out at him in retaliation.
Suddenly, one after another, they pitch themselves forward and cartwheel to the top of the courtyard where, allayed in a circle, they wait for their last two members: Fleur Delacour, a particularly luminous girl, and her 8-year-old sister Gabrielle, who is her double. Vaulting side-by-side to the center of the circle, Fleur pulls out a silk scarf, dangles it from her fingertips, and 'spins' Gabrielle like a top.
The courtyard roars with approval. Hermione rolls her eyes and Lory takes notices.
"Can you believe the lot of them?" She sighs. Hermione nods in agreement.
"You're just jealous you're not as pretty as them." Ron snickers. Lory's face stays unfazed.
"You do remember I'm you're twin, Ronald?" Lory informs with a sheer, angered tone. Both Hermione and Harry burst out laughing, Ron's cheeks growing hot as the smile disappears from his face. Lory smirks to herself.
"Madame Maxime. Welcome to Hogwarts, my dear." Dumbledore welcomes with a large smile.
"Ah, Dumble-dorr. You are well, yes?" A thick French accent is heavy laden over Madame Maxime's words.
"Blooming." Dumbledore ignores the fact that his name has just been mispronounced.
Madame Maxime steps away, passing Hagrid. His beard twitches. Suddenly, the thrum of balalaikas fills the courtyard.
"And now... our friends from the north! Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang!"
Igor Karkaroff- tall, sleek and arrogant- strides forth, trailed by a regiment of stoic Durmstrang boys in dark fur cloaks. A pair of sleek black panthers- eyes glittering like gold- pad sullenly at Karkaroff's side. As Karkaroff reaches the top of the courtyard, he glances about imperiously.
"Dear old Hogwarts. It's so..."
"Perfectly imperfect?" Dumbledore suggests. Karkaroff smiles and turns to Snape, who nods curtly.
"Igor." Snape acknowledges.
"Severus. Long time, no see. And Barty. I almost didn't recognize you. You look so... tired. Sleeping well these days?" Igor grins.
Crouch glowers. Karkaroff smiles, then snaps his fingers. A quartet of Durmstrang boys bring torches to their lips and spit dazzling comets of fire into the air. Enthusiastic applause from all.
"Oh my God! It's him!" Ron gasps and straightens.
Harry looks. At the end of the line, brooding behind his shadowed brow, is Victor Krum. Just then, Flitwick- striking his finest conductor's pose- lifts his arms before a ragtag band of students and a discordant tune fills the courtyard. Instantly, the Hogwarts students serenade their visitors with a glorious cacophony, then Hogwarts Anthem"
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts....
Teach us something please
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff
For now they're bare and full of air
Dead flies and bits of fluff."
Karkaroff raises an eyebrow.. Maxime struggles to hold a smile. Dumbledore beams.
"We just might have the worst school anthem ever written." Lory groans as she covers her face with her hands while the school continues to sing the horrid song.
"I never will understand who wrote it and why." Harry sighs in exasperation.
"Dead flies and bits of fluff? Why in Merlin's name is that necessary?" Lory scoffs. Harry chuckles.
"Maybe if they're talking about you." Harry mutters. Lory gasps and turns to him.
"How dare you? My grades are better than yours have ever been." Lory whacks Harry on his upper arm and he scowls at her.
"Not better than Hermione's." Harry reminds with a smug expression to which Lory rolls her eyes.
"Hermione is inhuman, no one can have the grades that she has." Lory informs. Harry considers this a moment and nods.
"You're right." He sighs.
"So we bid you truly welcome
You are a funny lot
But any guests of Hogwarts
Can't be all rot!"
Lory snickers to herself at the last few words and Harry nudges her, struggling to suppress a smile himself.
"It's not funny." Harry's lips twitch upwards as he wags a scolding finger at Lory as she laughs.
"It's a little funny. Can't be all rot?" Lory snorts and induces laughter within Harry, who covers his own mouth in attempts to keep from disturbing the welcome. "Stop it." He pleads and shoves her shoulder with his own.
"Quiet, the both of you. There's nothing to laugh about." Hermione scoffs, which only results in harder laughter from the two. Hermione rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. "Honestly."
"Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here." Dumbledore sighs as the song comes to an end- thankfully for the two students in stitches.
_________ GREAT HALL
Everyone feasts. Bewitched by Madame Maxime, Hagrid stares down the tall table to where she sits... and absently spears Professor Flitwick's hand with his fork. Karkaroff eyes Crouch darkly, then turns and sees that Snape is watching him. Smiling thinly, Karkaroff tips his goblet.
Harry eyes the Ravenclaw table, where the Beauxbaton girls sit and Fleur converses with Cho. Ron stuffs his face and stares at Krum, who sits with the Slytherins.
"Brilliant, isn't he?" Ron speaks up as he chews slowly, in a trance.
"He's eating." Lory smacks her brother's shoulder and pushes his face to look at something other than Krum.
"Why d'you suppose they've been put at the Slytherin table?" Harry's eyebrows furrow as he peeks over at Durmstrang every now and then.
"Birds of a feather. Durmstrang puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts." Hermione takes a bite of her meal as she informs the group.
Hearing this, Harry's eyes shift, considering Karkaroff.
"Wishing it was you over there instead of Krum, are you?" Ron suddenly pipes up. Harry turns to see who he's talking to- and it's surprisingly his own sister.
"Ronald, what in Merlin's name are you talking about?" Hermione sets down her fork and leans forward to glance at Ron incredulously.
"What? Everyone knows Malfoy's got a thing for her. As much as I hate to admit it. That guy's the worst." Ron grumbles. Lory scoffs in disbelief. She turns to look at the Slytherin table and then quickly back to her brother.
"Now what would provoke you to say such a thing?" Lory laughs humorlessly. Harry looks to Ron expectantly.
"Malfoy's a git to all of us." He reminds. Ron sighs.
"Especially to Lory- don't you see it?" Ron looks around expectantly. Everyone looks at him with vacant expression and he groans.
"Everyone knows the boys who tease the girls the most fancy them." Ron states like it's obvious and everyone around him is an idiot.
"That's like saying Malfoy's got a thing for Harry. Harry, do you think Malfoy has a thing for you?" Lory glances over at Harry and stares at him.
"What? No. That's... weird." Harry shivers to even think about that. "I'd prefer you never mention that again." He requests. Lory ignores him.
"Besides, Ron. I'm related to you. Of course he hates me." Lory snorts as she returns to her meal. Ron shrugs without another word.
__________
(Sorry guys, I'm really bad at dialogue)
A figure strides through the teeming smoke like a ghost. The man pauses, surveys the devastation before him, and lifts his wand into the sky.
"MORESMORDRE!"
A peal of thunder shakes the earth and an eerie green blooms in the sky. Harry squints painfully, gripping his scar and peers up. A colossal skull of emerald stars erupts in the sky, a serpent coiling from its mouth. A shriek pierces the night and Harry's eyes shift, finding the motherless boy a few yards away, howling in terror at the sky.
Harry looks back, toward the man in the distance, and sees he's coming forward. The shrieking boy turns an darts away. Harry's fingers reach for his wand, eyes squinting through the smoke, trying to see the approaching man's face, but all is still a blur, the smoke like black fog, the man a wavering wraith as he draws closer and closer...
"Harry!"
Harry's heart unclenches at Lory's voice and he audibly sighs in relief. Hermione, Ron, and Lory- tiny dots- race across the campsite. The man stops, looks, then withdraws into the smoke and vanishes.
"Harry!" Lory calls again.
"Thought we'd lost you, mate. And then..." Ron nods nervously to the sky.
"What is that?" Harry follows his eyes to the monstrous thing in the sky.
"Don't you know...?" Hermione asks, confused.
Just then, a popping fills the air and- one after another- ten ministry wizards apparate into view, wands poised.
"DUCK!" Harry exclaims, and the group does as told.
"STUPEFY!"
As they hit the ground, ten jets of fiery red light electrify the air inches above their heads.
"Stop! Those are my children!" Arthur dashes to the rescue.
"Are you lot alright?" Arthur breathes hurriedly.
"Which one of you conjured it?"
Harry and the others turn and watch Barty Crouch- a stiff man with a toothbrush mustache and steely eyes- emerge through the haze.
"Mr. Crouch, you can't possibly-"
"Do not lie! You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!" Crouch points his wand shakily to all of the teens, alternating between each one.
"Crime?" Harry states incredulously.
Crouch wheels, pointing his wand directly at Harry, eyes glittering lethally when... he notices Harry's scar.
"Barty. They're just kids." Amos interjects. Harry watches Crouch blink. Lory side-steps in front of Harry and draws him close to her. Crouch lowers his wand.
"What crime?" Harry speaks again.
Lory turns to him and nods at the sky. "That... it's the Dark Mark, Harry. It's... his mark." she whispers carefully.
"Voldemort?" Harry questions. Lory shushes him. "You can't keep saying that..." She reminds.
A disturbed murmur ripples through the wizards at Harry's utterance of the name. Ron looks particularly pained.
"Why do you always have to do that?" He sighs.
"Those people tonight- in the masks- they're his too, aren't they? His followers."
"Death Eaters." Arthur confirms solemnly.
Harry considers his, then gazes back down the beach, toward the spot where the mysterious figure appeared.
"There was someone before. A man. There." Harry points. Everyone turns to look.
"A man? Who, Harry?" Lory eyes him carefully.
"Dunno. One minute he was there, then... not. I never saw his face. Could've been anybody..." Harry is beginning to realize that his witness is of no value without any facial recognition.
Harry glances upwards, clinging to the sky like a stain is the Dark Mark.
_________ Hogwarts Express
Students hang out of compartment doors, talking and laughing while an old woman pushes a candy trolley up to Harry, Ron, Lory, and Hermione's compartment.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?" The trolley witch asks, out of breath.
Harry and Ron leap up, while Hermione and Lory continue to read the Daily Prophet. There's a photograph of the Dark Mark, a headline screams: "TERROR AT THE WORLD CUP."
"I'll have a pack of Droobles. And a licorice wand and..." Ron digs into his pocket and frowns. "On second though, just the Droobles."
"S'alright, I'll get it-"
"Just the Droobles." Ron firmly interjects for Harry.
Ron takes his gum and quickly ducks back into the compartment. Harry frowns, feeling guilty, when a sweet voice sounds.
"One Pumpkin Pastie, please."
Harry turns and finds a very pretty dark-haired girl standing by the cart. Sensing Harry's gaze, she looks up and smiles. Taking her treat, she heads off.
"Something sweet for you, dear?" The trolley witch leans to speak to Harry. He looks down at her.
"Huh? Oh. No. I'm not... hungry." He decides. Harry watches Cho's lithe figure retreat, watching until she slips into a compartment and is gone.
"Head out of the clouds, Potter." Lory calls from inside the compartment as the trolley witch moves to the rest of the train. Harry diverts his attention to her, seeing she hasn't even lifted her head from the Daily Prophet. He rolls his eyes.
"This is bad. Very bad..."
Harry turns and sees Hermione shaking her head darkly behind the Prophet's screaming front page. Harry considers the image of the Dark Mark and accompanying article: "DARK MARK STIRS OLD FEARS (First Sighting in Thirteen Years)," then eyes the photo of the article's author, Rita Skeeter. Hermione snaps the paper shut and stares at him.
"It's hurting again, isn't it? It was hurting that morning too. The day of the World Cup?" Lory's gaze is gentle and concerned, but Harry doesn't reciprocate. Ron, full of gum, stops chewing, eyeing Harry with trepidation.
"I'm fine." Harry snaps. Lory's hand withdraws from his shoulder without a word. Hermione's eyebrows furrow and her eyes briefly flicker from Lory to Harry with distain.
"Suit yourself. But at least tell him. You know he'd want you to." Hermione eyes Harry with determination. Harry sighs.
_________
"DEAR SIRIUS"...
Harry rolls up the parchment, fixes it to Hedwig's leg, and lets her fly free of his hands and through the open window.
Hedwig soars high, leaving the train behind as she knits her way across the sky. On the horizon, a castle appears.
__________
The Hall glows magically, decked out for the start-of-term feast. Albus Dumbledore addresses the House Tables from the top of the Hall while Flitwick, Hagrid, McGonagall, and Snape look on. Filch flowers from the rear doors.
"Mr. Filch, our beloved caretaker, has informed me that the list of objects forbidden within the castle now includes Screaming Yo-Yos, Fanged Frisbees, Ever-Bashing Boomerangs, and Chocolate Marshmallow Bunnies." There is a mischievous beat before he continues. "I'm joking about that last one. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items and may be viewed in Mr. Filch's office." Dumbledore smiles.
"Mental. Always has been." Ron grumbles from where he sits at the Gryffindor table.
Harry grins and glances to the Ravenclaw table, seeing Cho grinning appreciatively at Dumbledore as well. Lory follows his gaze and smirks. "Catching feelings, are we?" She mumbles just loudly enough for Harry to hear, who turns.
"What?" He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.
"The Chang girl. Pretty, isn't she?" Lory glances back at her. Harry suppresses a smile.
"Shut up." He pushes her.
"Not likely." Lory shrugs.
"Now. There is, apparently, a rather nasty rumor flying about the school that Quidditch will not be played this year. That rumor, I'm here to tell you... is absolutely true." Dumbledore announces with suspense. Indignation fills the Hall. Dumbledore smiles in amusement.
"There is an explanation. You see, Hogwarts will this year play host to a legendary event. An event that has not taken place in over one hundred years... the Triwizard Tournament." Excitement hakes the Hall, one voice ringing clear:
"You're joking!" Fred exclaims. Lory puts a hand over her face and peeks under it, watching as her classmates watch her brother make a fool of himself and hiding from under the palm of her hand.
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley. For those of you know do not know, the Triwizard Tournament was originally conceived some seven centuries ago as a way for the three largest European wizardry schools to engage in a series of magical contests while their respective student bodies experienced the benefits of cross-cultural social intercourse."
A crackling, albeit bewildered, silence hangs in the air.
"In other words: One got to spend the entire year getting to know people who spoke a funny language. Unfortunately due to a distressing high death toll, the Tournament was cancelled..."
Hermione's brows knit together with dark concern.
"Then why the bloody hell are they bringing it back?" Lory leans over Hermione's shoulder to voice her concerns. Hermione leans back and reciprocates her expression. "You're asking the wrong person, Lory." she sighs.
"... until now. Tomorrow, delegations from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magical Arts and the Durmstrang School of Wizardry will journey to Hogwarts. This year, our home will be their home. I ask only that you endeavor to make it a happy one."
______________ HOGWARTS BATTLEMENTS-EVENING
Students- Harry, Ron, Lory, and Hermione among them- crowd the parapets, buzzing with anticipation. Far below, Dumbledore has assembled the staff as a kind of welcoming party.
Suddenly a rumble fills the sky and a team of winged Horses cleave the clouds, pulling a gigantic powder-blue carriage. Through one of the windows, a beautiful woman peers down. With an earth-shaking thud, the carriage lands.
Just then, great bubbles roil the glassy surface of the Black Lake and a long black mast pierces the water, rising higher and higher. A black ship rises out of a great rushing whirlpool of water, looking skeletal and ghostly in the half-light. A dark figure strides out onto the deck- tall, thin, ad sleek.
______________COURTYARD
Students scramble into position and turn expectantly to Dumbledore, who stands before the staff. Lory notices a man near the back and nudges Harry. It's Barty Crouch.
"What's he doing here?" She asks in a low whisper. Harry shrugs without a word and diverts his attention.
"Please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!" Dumbledore bellows.
Music begins- light and fanciful- and a woman in a diaphanous gown strides into the courtyard. She is beautiful. She is elegant. She is ten feet tall.
"Blimey. That's one big woman." Seamus stares shamelessly up at her.
Then, one by one, a procession of stunningly beautiful Beauxbatons girls enter in graceful synchronization. Clad in silky, skin-clinging robes, they make a decided impression on Ron- and every other boy present. Hermione and Lory are less persuaded.
"It's indecent to stare at women like that, idiot." Lory shoves her elbow into Ron's and he grunts.
"Lay off, would you?" He sneers, earning Lory's tongue sticking out at him in retaliation.
Suddenly, one after another, they pitch themselves forward and cartwheel to the top of the courtyard where, allayed in a circle, they wait for their last two members: Fleur Delacour, a particularly luminous girl, and her 8-year-old sister Gabrielle, who is her double. Vaulting side-by-side to the center of the circle, Fleur pulls out a silk scarf, dangles it from her fingertips, and 'spins' Gabrielle like a top.
The courtyard roars with approval. Hermione rolls her eyes and Lory takes notices.
"Can you believe the lot of them?" She sighs. Hermione nods in agreement.
"You're just jealous you're not as pretty as them." Ron snickers. Lory's face stays unfazed.
"You do remember I'm you're twin, Ronald?" Lory informs with a sheer, angered tone. Both Hermione and Harry burst out laughing, Ron's cheeks growing hot as the smile disappears from his face. Lory smirks to herself.
"Madame Maxime. Welcome to Hogwarts, my dear." Dumbledore welcomes with a large smile.
"Ah, Dumble-dorr. You are well, yes?" A thick French accent is heavy laden over Madame Maxime's words.
"Blooming." Dumbledore ignores the fact that his name has just been mispronounced.
Madame Maxime steps away, passing Hagrid. His beard twitches. Suddenly, the thrum of balalaikas fills the courtyard.
"And now... our friends from the north! Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang!"
Igor Karkaroff- tall, sleek and arrogant- strides forth, trailed by a regiment of stoic Durmstrang boys in dark fur cloaks. A pair of sleek black panthers- eyes glittering like gold- pad sullenly at Karkaroff's side. As Karkaroff reaches the top of the courtyard, he glances about imperiously.
"Dear old Hogwarts. It's so..."
"Perfectly imperfect?" Dumbledore suggests. Karkaroff smiles and turns to Snape, who nods curtly.
"Igor." Snape acknowledges.
"Severus. Long time, no see. And Barty. I almost didn't recognize you. You look so... tired. Sleeping well these days?" Igor grins.
Crouch glowers. Karkaroff smiles, then snaps his fingers. A quartet of Durmstrang boys bring torches to their lips and spit dazzling comets of fire into the air. Enthusiastic applause from all.
"Oh my God! It's him!" Ron gasps and straightens.
Harry looks. At the end of the line, brooding behind his shadowed brow, is Victor Krum. Just then, Flitwick- striking his finest conductor's pose- lifts his arms before a ragtag band of students and a discordant tune fills the courtyard. Instantly, the Hogwarts students serenade their visitors with a glorious cacophony, then Hogwarts Anthem"
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts....
Teach us something please
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff
For now they're bare and full of air
Dead flies and bits of fluff."
Karkaroff raises an eyebrow.. Maxime struggles to hold a smile. Dumbledore beams.
"We just might have the worst school anthem ever written." Lory groans as she covers her face with her hands while the school continues to sing the horrid song.
"I never will understand who wrote it and why." Harry sighs in exasperation.
"Dead flies and bits of fluff? Why in Merlin's name is that necessary?" Lory scoffs. Harry chuckles.
"Maybe if they're talking about you." Harry mutters. Lory gasps and turns to him.
"How dare you? My grades are better than yours have ever been." Lory whacks Harry on his upper arm and he scowls at her.
"Not better than Hermione's." Harry reminds with a smug expression to which Lory rolls her eyes.
"Hermione is inhuman, no one can have the grades that she has." Lory informs. Harry considers this a moment and nods.
"You're right." He sighs.
"So we bid you truly welcome
You are a funny lot
But any guests of Hogwarts
Can't be all rot!"
Lory snickers to herself at the last few words and Harry nudges her, struggling to suppress a smile himself.
"It's not funny." Harry's lips twitch upwards as he wags a scolding finger at Lory as she laughs.
"It's a little funny. Can't be all rot?" Lory snorts and induces laughter within Harry, who covers his own mouth in attempts to keep from disturbing the welcome. "Stop it." He pleads and shoves her shoulder with his own.
"Quiet, the both of you. There's nothing to laugh about." Hermione scoffs, which only results in harder laughter from the two. Hermione rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. "Honestly."
"Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here." Dumbledore sighs as the song comes to an end- thankfully for the two students in stitches.
_________ GREAT HALL
Everyone feasts. Bewitched by Madame Maxime, Hagrid stares down the tall table to where she sits... and absently spears Professor Flitwick's hand with his fork. Karkaroff eyes Crouch darkly, then turns and sees that Snape is watching him. Smiling thinly, Karkaroff tips his goblet.
Harry eyes the Ravenclaw table, where the Beauxbaton girls sit and Fleur converses with Cho. Ron stuffs his face and stares at Krum, who sits with the Slytherins.
"Brilliant, isn't he?" Ron speaks up as he chews slowly, in a trance.
"He's eating." Lory smacks her brother's shoulder and pushes his face to look at something other than Krum.
"Why d'you suppose they've been put at the Slytherin table?" Harry's eyebrows furrow as he peeks over at Durmstrang every now and then.
"Birds of a feather. Durmstrang puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts." Hermione takes a bite of her meal as she informs the group.
Hearing this, Harry's eyes shift, considering Karkaroff.
"Wishing it was you over there instead of Krum, are you?" Ron suddenly pipes up. Harry turns to see who he's talking to- and it's surprisingly his own sister.
"Ronald, what in Merlin's name are you talking about?" Hermione sets down her fork and leans forward to glance at Ron incredulously.
"What? Everyone knows Malfoy's got a thing for her. As much as I hate to admit it. That guy's the worst." Ron grumbles. Lory scoffs in disbelief. She turns to look at the Slytherin table and then quickly back to her brother.
"Now what would provoke you to say such a thing?" Lory laughs humorlessly. Harry looks to Ron expectantly.
"Malfoy's a git to all of us." He reminds. Ron sighs.
"Especially to Lory- don't you see it?" Ron looks around expectantly. Everyone looks at him with vacant expression and he groans.
"Everyone knows the boys who tease the girls the most fancy them." Ron states like it's obvious and everyone around him is an idiot.
"That's like saying Malfoy's got a thing for Harry. Harry, do you think Malfoy has a thing for you?" Lory glances over at Harry and stares at him.
"What? No. That's... weird." Harry shivers to even think about that. "I'd prefer you never mention that again." He requests. Lory ignores him.
"Besides, Ron. I'm related to you. Of course he hates me." Lory snorts as she returns to her meal. Ron shrugs without another word.
__________
(Sorry guys, I'm really bad at dialogue)
