Someone to Embrace
Chosen

“You’ll take care, won’t you?”

“I will, Mum. I promise.” Richard Cudney kissed his anxious mother on the cheek. Mrs Cudney fidgeted with the wool shawl draped over her shoulders as she watched her eldest son bid goodbye to the rest of his siblings.

“Write often, and tell us if you’re chosen.”

“I will, Mum.”

“Don’t be too gallant.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t write in your books. I have a hard time selling them as it is.”

“Mum!” Richard walked away from his large family, who made the platform even more crowded toward the long line of carriages, each hitched to two invisible horses. Several carriages were already taken, their curtains drawn and the doors closed. As he made his way to one of the open carriages, he heard a voice call to him.

“Richard? Is that you?”

Richard Cudney turned and beamed in surprise. “Eliza!” The small girl had her arms wrapped around his neck before he could react. Richard would have gladly embraced her in return had the disapproving “tsk” from her mother not stopped him.

“How do you do, Mrs Flaherty?” he greeted formally with a grin with Eliza still latched to him.

Mrs Flaherty, an elegantly dressed woman with an outrageously wide-brimmed hat, ignored him. “Eliza! This is not proper behavior �“ “

“Save me,” Eliza whispered in Richard’s ear before she let go. Smoothing out her gown and petticoat then adjusting her bonnet with care, she turned to her mother who’d turned a bright red. “Mother, I can take it from here.”

Before she could object, Eliza grabbed her valises and ran toward one of the open carriages, her gown flapping about her ankles. Richard tipped his hat apologetically to the furious Mrs Flaherty and followed Eliza with his own baggage.

“Smooth escape, eh?” he asked good-humouredly as he tied their luggage on the top of the carriage.

“Thank you.” Eliza entered the carriage, which was roomier on the inside than the exterior showed. “I’ve had to put up with her etiquette lessons all summer while my brothers walked freely in the garden.”

Eliza’s Muggle father was a considerably wealthy man whose money came from the design and manufacture of ladies’ gowns and dresses. The Flaherty home seemed, from Eliza’s descriptions, able to accommodate Richard’s large family with ease and always hosted some of England’s finest parties.

“Careful, then, Eliza. From the way you’re sitting, you might wrinkle your gown.” Richard grinned and dodged one of Eliza’s playful smacks.

“Discussing Eliza’s taste in fashion already?” a voice from behind asked. “A bit early in the school year, don’t you think?”

Eliza rolled her eyes as Cecil Godard, a short, slightly stout young man, approached with a suitcase in each hand. “A hand, please, Richard?” Cecil scooted into the carriage next to Eliza. “How was your summer, Miss Flaherty?”

Richard loaded Cecil’s heavy luggage onto the carriage with ease. Having always been the tallest of the three, he was used to such requests. The past summer had treated his bones well, and he’d shot up a head yet again. He finished fastening the bags down and waved to a few of his classmates as they passed by. When he finally slid into the carriage, Eliza was still describing her summer classes in-depth.

“…and the instructor was just awful.”

Before Eliza could launch into the details, Richard interrupted cryptically, “Sixth year.” His grin could not be any wider.

Cecil looked just as excited. “I’ve been looking forward to this ever since first year.” He skulked. “Mum wouldn’t let me put my name in the goblet. Even sent me a How �“ “

“What? What is it?”

Cecil stared at Eliza incredulously. “Eliza, being a Muggle-born is not a reason to not know about the Triwizard Tournament.”

“The Triwizard Tournament is an event �“ “

“Is the event.”

“Well, yes. Anyway, the tournament was developed a few hundred years ago with the purpose of uniting the three magic schools. Each school has a contestant to represent them in three separate events. The student with the most points wins the Triwizard cup and �“ “

“And a thousand Galleons!”

Richard felt the carriage lurch forward as if suddenly gaining speed. After a few seconds, the rattling of the carriage stopped, and Richard knew that they were now airborne.

Eliza’s hazel eyes opened wide. “A thousand Galleons? Why, that would mean I won’t have to rely on Mother for my money!”

Cecil chortled. “What could you do with a thousand Galleons?”

Eliza smiled dreamily. “Open my own robes shop.”

“Well, you can keep dreaming, Eliza. You’d be the first girl from Hogwarts or Durmstrang to be chosen Champion AND the first woman to open a shop in Diagon Alley.” Ignoring Eliza’s furious huff, Cecil continued, “If I won the money, I would invest it in broomstick-making. It’s a sure way to earn more money; broomsticks are always evolving and always in demand.”

As Cecil and Eliza argued, Richard closed his eyes and imagined what he’d spend his reward money on. There was no question about how he’d spend most of it. For generations, his family had struggled to make ends meet, and the endless trouble his younger brothers were in didn’t help. Mrs Cudney could not seek active employment; too many hushed whispers followed the widow when she went out. Richard’s three brothers could hardly keep from damaging the neighbours’ property during their rough games. The two sisters at home helped Mother whenever they could, though they never wasted a moment to grumble and groan about it.

If there were any Galleons left over, Richard thought he’d like to buy a small home in the American colonies. Several of his friends had gone and written back about the splendour of the new world. However, Richard did not think about lining his own pockets; rather, he was more interested in the adventure the newly colonized continent would bring for him.

“You are always making such a fuss about propriety, Cecil!”

“And you never cease in your grumbling about your role in society!”

“Oh, my mother would simply adore your company!”

“In fact, I do find her quite pleasant!”

Richard decided it was time to break apart the spat before feelings were hurt. “So any idea what tasks may lay ahead for us?”

As expected, the simple inquiry dissipated all hard feelings in the carriage, and the three enjoyed a harmless conversation about what they anticipated for this year’s tournament.

When the carriage doors swung open, indicating their arrival at Hogsmeade, the three were still conversing about past tasks. The clear blue sky had been replaced with a dark velvet blanket spotted with stars. Students emerged from each carriage and walked to shake out their cramped legs. Richard and Cecil waited beside their carriage while Eliza stayed inside to change into her robes. Others opted to visit the shops nearby as their carriage mates changed.

The stop was quick and smooth, though slightly inconvenient. After everyone had changed, the carriages were once again loaded and off, this time straight to Hogwarts castle. The ride was short, and they’d arrived before Cecil and Eliza could find themselves in another argument.

“First years, this way please. All other students, please proceed to the Great Hall. First years, this way,” the monotone voice of Professor Lankin projected over the sea of students. The Deputy Headmaster’s bored and unenthusiastic expression made several of the new students wary, as it did Richard’s first year. But Richard knew they’d come to realize that behind the droopy eyes and deep scowl lines, Professor Lankin was brilliant at what he taught: Potions.

Richard followed the older, much louder students as they flowed into the large castle and its equally breathtaking Great Hall. Richard waved goodbye to Eliza, a Ravenclaw, and walked with Cecil to the table under the yellow banner with the badger. He quietly observed the Sorting of the first years and cheered when a new Hufflepuff was announced, though he was much more interested in what Headmistress Derwent had to say.

The round-faced, plump woman was watching the Sorting intently, though from time to time, her eyes flickered to the rest of the students. Once, her gaze met Richard’s, and he turned away at once, feeling himself blush. The intensity of the headmistress’s green eyes made Richard feel as if she was analyzing him very carefully, for what, Richard did not know. When he dared glance up at her again, she was already standing to deliver her welcoming speech. The students at the Hufflepuff table sat up straighter, anticipating what it was Headmistress Derwent had to say. The buzz about the tournament clearly reached all of their ears. One table over, he saw Eliza stiffen as well.

“Before we begin our feast, I’d like to make a few announcements. As always, the Forbidden Forest is…forbidden to all students of any age. Only those accompanied by a professor and have my permission to go may visit the forest. Similarly, students who wander the hall after curfew without an adult will have severe consequences.”

Richard watched Cecil fidget excitedly with his robes as the headmistress listed the familiar rules. He felt his own heart beat faster as he silently willed the headmistress to finish up. Finally �“

“Lastly, your Head of House will take down the names of students interested in journeying with me to Durmstrang for the Triwizard tournament. There are no restrictions to who may put their names down, but in a month’s time, your Head of House will select only four people to put their names in the Goblet of Fire. The sixteen students selected will accompany me to Russia for the duration of the tournament.”

Professor Derwent’s expression turned uncharacteristically severe. “I cannot emphasize enough how dangerous the tournament is. The deaths of those who have participated in past events are not to be regarded lightly. Sign up with your Head of House only after careful consideration. You will have another chance to rethink your decision should you be chosen to represent your House.”

When the feast finally began, Cecil, his mouth full, asked Richard, “You sill doin’ i’?”

Richard grinned. “Of course. You?”

Cecil nodded in response and glanced over at the Ravenclaw table. He swallowed loudly. “You think Eliza’s really going to do it too?”

Richard looked over as well to see his friend chatting animatedly with her friends. The excitement and determination in her eyes was too familiar. “Eliza’s a strong one. I think she will.”

Cecil looked skeptical. “But she’s a girl!”

*

Four weeks passed by quickly. Classes went on as usual, but there were more points taken away for inattention in class than usual. The cacophony of tournament discussions had dimmed to a low buzz, yet it was constantly on everyone’s mind. All of the wizarding world knew about the tournament, and there was always at least one Howler every morning that spewed forth terrible messages against signing up for the tournament. Cecil, like Richard, had received a letter from his mum begging him not to go though he had already planned on disobeying.

Finally, the anxiety that had filled Hogwarts was put to rest. Headmistress Derwent, who’d been gone very often after her announcement of the tournament, stood one night and asked for everybody’s attention.

“After much deliberation, your four Heads and I have chosen the sixteen students for the tournament. These students are to report to me at the end of dinner.” The clatter of silverware and the hum of chatter died away instantly. Beside him, Cecil had stopped chewing the turkey meat already in his mouth.

“From Slytherin: Lucius Gaunt, Robert Grunnion, Ivan Zabini, and Gregory Taylor.” Headmistress Derwent paused to allow the Slytherins to cheer for their Housemates. Richard identified the four boys who stood up as three seventh years and one fellow sixth year. He realized that his hands were clenched in tight fists around his robes.

“From Ravenclaw: Beaumont Marjoribanks, Christopher Neal, Spencer Allen, and Eliza Flaherty.” Richard clapped as loudly as the Ravenclaws when he heard his friend’s name. When Eliza looked over in his direction, her face in utter shock, Richard winked. Cecil also had a look of disbelief, his mouth open to reveal half-masticated turkey.

“From Hufflepuff.” Eliza flashed Richard an encouraging thumbs-up, and Richard gave her a shaky smile in return. “Cecil Godard, Glover Hipworth, Richard Cudney, and Flavius Borgis.”

Richard barely heard Cecil choke on his food or his Housemates cheer loudly. He realized that he hadn’t been breathing and took a deep breath. Recovering quicker than poor Cecil did, he grinned stupidly as he shook the hands offered to him and pounded Cecil on his back.

After dinner, Cecil, Richard, and Eliza walked with the other seventeen students to a small room attached to the Great Hall. The headmistress motioned to all of them to sit down and briskly walked to the front of the room followed closely by Professor Larkin.

“Firstly, congratulations are in order. Each of you have proven yourselves in the eyes of your Head of House and will have the chance to go for the title of Hogwarts Champion. We will depart for Durmstrang on the twenty-ninth of October, and the Champion will be announced on Hallow’s Eve. The Champion,” she said, looking sternly at the individuals before her, “when chosen by the Goblet of Fire are obligated to compete so think twice before putting your name in. Those not chosen will be given the option to return to school or stay at Durmstrang. Either way, your education will continue, whether you take classes at Durmstrang or Hogwarts. You will return in time for your O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. exams.”

Richard heard Cecil stifle a groan.

“Good luck to all of you. You are dismissed.”

---

End notes: This chapter follows as closely to canon as my knowledge of the Harry Potter universe as of July 1, 2007 allows. Any information revealed to be false by Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows will not be changed.

Reviews are graciously accepted and appreciated.

Someone to Embrace
Chosen (Again)

Almost two months after their arrival, Richard, Cecil, and Eliza, found themselves yet again in a carriage, now with the addition of a fourth-year Gryffindor. This time, however, no chatter filled the chilly silence between them. Each was left alone with his, or her, own thoughts about the upcoming tournament. The inside of the carriage remained comfortably warm, but from the swirling snow outside, Richard knew he did right by bringing his winter coat.

Soon, a small stone castle surrounded by majestic peaks came into view. Lights flickered in the windows, and miniscule figures were moving about on the outside with candles. The carriages landed smoothly in the snow, and the four Hogwarts students emerged into the frosty night.

Headmistress Derwent was already outside, whispering to a dark, harsh-looking man in blood-red robes who was rubbing his moustache. The students of Durmstrang who greeted them also wore severe expressions on their faces, though some looked on with curious eyes. They wore matching furs and maroon robes, each emblazoned with the Durmstrang crest. There was a group to the side, however, that sported the blue silky robes and the Beauxbatons emblem and crowded around a haughty-looking woman.

The mustached man smiled widely, revealing several missing teeth. “Welcome, Hogwarts, to Durmstrang Institute.” His words were thick with an accent. “I am Headmaster Mirko. Please, please. Come in for our feast.” On cue, the students in red robes turned and headed indoors, leading the pack of black-robed and blue-robed students to the feasting hall.

The hall was simple, only decorated with banners of a thundercloud emitting a lone thunderbolt, the Durmstrang crest. Several round tables, each with four chairs, were arranged underneath a rather plain ceiling (any ceiling was plain in comparison to the ceiling of the Great Hall). At the end of the hall, much like that at Hogwarts, a rectangular table had been set up, and the professors of Durmstrang were already seated. The Durmstrang students were already standing next to the chairs they had already chosen.

“We are a small school,” Headmaster Mirko explained, “and see no reason to divide our meager numbers into Houses or Quadrangles.” He nodded to the Hogwarts students and Beauxbatons students respectively. “Please seat yourself at any table, though we encourage you to embrace the spirit of unity and sit with another school. Professor Derwent, Lady Larogue, please join me at the head table.”

Richard’s schoolmates hesitated before heading toward the closest cluster of tables. Richard found himself at a table again with his friends and the Gryffindor boy whose name he recalled was Peter Murrell. Richard looked around as he waited for the feast to start. The students clad in blue took up four tables as well and were looking quite put out by the lack of splendor of their surroundings as well as the cold. He found that gossip had, for the first time, proven true; the students of Beauxbatonss were remarkably pretty. Most had decorated themselves with pale powder and lavish hats. The Durmstrang students, on the other hand, seemed indifferent to their guests and chatted amongst themselves. Richard had first attributed their sour looks to the bitter weather outside, but while his own mood became warm again, those of his hosts did not seem to change.

After the delicious, and relatively exotic, meal, the Durmstrang students drifted off, leaving the Beauxbatonss and Hogwarts students perplexed and uncomfortable. Finally, a burly young man approached Richard and his schoolmates.

“Hello,” he spoke slowly, as if unsure of his words. “I am Mihail Veneva. I am to take two of yous to the room.”

The Hogwarts students looked at each other, uncertain of what to do. “Blimey,” Cecil muttered. “I’ll go. No use standing out here when we’re all dead on our feet.” Richard murmured his agreement and said a quick bye to Eliza.

Mihail led Cecil and Richard up the stairs and through the long, dark corridors. In the dim light, Richard squinted to get a better look at his new Durmstrang companion. Though Mihail was as tall as him, Richard felt dwarfed when standing behind the thicker boy. Mihail’s face was marred by several faint scar lines, as if he’d been in many skirmishes, a fact accented by his crooked nose. Otherwise, his features were angular and strong, and he would’ve been quite the ladies’ man if it weren’t for his dull, grey eyes that stared blankly ahead.

Mihail stopped in front of an unmarked door to their right and opened it without knocking. Wordlessly, he cast a spell, and an oil lamp on a dresser lit up the small room. Richard could see four beds �“ cots, really �“ arranged along the walls, two on each side. One bed in the far corner was already inhabited; Richard could make out the faint outline of a body lay huddling beneath the covers. A small dresser sat between each bed, and a trunk for other personal possessions lay at the foot of each bed. The insignificant window in the middle of the back wall allowed Richard a glimpse of the snowstorm outside. Nothing decorated the shabby room that reminded him of a hospital room.

Without an introduction, Mihail walked to the bed next to his roommate and began taking off his shoes. Cecil tripped over to the nearest bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Silently, Richard moved their bags, which had been lying next to the door, to the beds. The excitement for what lay ahead of him began to wear off, and Richard soon found himself dragging his feet as he walked back and forth with the luggage.

Fighting off his own sleepiness, Richard stopped by Cecil, who was now snoring quite loudly, to take off his friend’s boots and to throw a quilt over his body. He was used to taking care of Cecil much like he took care of his own brothers and sisters back home, but he still felt self-conscious as he felt his strange Durmstrang roommate’s scrutinizing gaze on his every move. Finally, he trudged over to his own bed and fell asleep, dreaming of dark snow and unsmiling strangers.

*

The next morning, Richard found himself at breakfast with Glover Hipworth, a seventh year Hufflepuff. He had awoken alone with only the sleeping Cecil in the room; by the looks of the neatly made beds, his other two roommates had already left. Cecil had refused to budge from his bed when Richard called to him, and he had no idea where Eliza was.

While Richard made small talk with Hipworth, Eliza stormed into the quiet hall, her blonde hair a wild mess. She stalked over to Richard’s table and gloomily sat down, breaking the silence of the dining hall with the scraping of her chair.

Hipworth, who was not as used to such public portrayal of emotion, looked uneasily at the slouching Eliza, but Richard, who put up with Eliza’s passionate and often childish tendencies, asked without looking up, “What’s the matter with you?”

Eliza huffed. “If they think for a moment that I would stand such treatment while biting my tongue, they’re dead wrong,” she proclaimed, drawing several disapproving glares from the Beauxbatons girls. She furiously glowered back. “One of them had decided to remark on the lack of shine my hair had, and �“ “

Just then, the doors opened once more, and a graceful brunette donning the light blue Beauxbatons robes glided in. Richard, who had always tried to act as gentlemanly as possible, could not help staring at the beauty whose honey scent wafted over to their table. At once, Eliza’s face became ever more menacing as the girl danced by.

As if feeling the burning of Eliza’s stare, the girl looked down and, upon seeing animosity in Eliza’s face, flashed a perfect, white smile with raised eyebrows. Then her clear blue eyes flickered to Richard, and her broad grin widened. She continued to a table occupied by her classmates but not before she winked at Richard over her shoulder.

The gasp elicited from Eliza at such as promiscuous act fell on deaf ears. Glover was grinning stupidly at the Beauxbatons girl’s back, and Richard, too, was similarly staring, shocked.

“Why, the nerve of such a girl,” Eliza was saying shrilly when a sleepy Cecil sat down. “Did you see what she did?”

Cecil winced. “It’s too early in the morning, Eliza.”

Seeing no support from her schoolmates, Eliza stood up irately and stormed out the room.

“Where’s she going?” Cecil helped himself to Richard’s pancakes. “She’s going to miss the presentation of the Goblet.”

Indeed, at the end of breakfast, the three heads of each school walked in followed by two harassed-looking wizards carrying a jewel-encrusted chest. “Attention please,” Headmaster Mirko announced unnecessarily, for the room was already silent. “Those of you who are interested in participating in the tournament, please place your names and school here in the Goblet of Fire.” He tapped his wand on the lid of the wooden chest and withdrew a plain wooden cup carefully.

Richard and Cecil gasped as blue flames licked the edges of the otherwise unimportant goblet. Cries of “Sacrebleu!” echoed from the Beauxbatons tables. Even the Durmstrang students stared curiously at the Goblet of Fire.

“You will have until tomorrow morning to submit your parchment. The Goblet will choose the Champions impartially tomorrow during supper. Until then, you may enter the dining hall at any time to put in your parchment.”

As the five adults disappeared from the hall to an unseen room, there was a mad scramble for parchment and quills. Some of the Beauxbatons girls were trying to write on scraps of parchment with a feather from their elaborate hats and syrup.

“Blast, I don’t have any parchment or ink with me,” Cecil swore after he managed to find a quill in his robe pockets.

“No worries, mate,” Richard replied calmly. “The goblet will still be here during lunch.” As he took a sip of tea, thoughts were swirling violently in his mind.

Now that he was here, he was not as confident as he had been in Hogwarts. If he put his name in, there was a chance, a slim one, that he’d be chosen to be Hogwarts’ Champion. If he was Champion, he’d be obligated to participate in the tournament and compete against not only Durmstrang and Beauxbatons but other darker and more dangerous creatures and obstacles. He had heard the stories, his mother made sure he had when he told her of his decision. Could he honestly risk his life, and possibly the well-being of his own family, for a thousand Galleons?

Then he remembered the grime and filth of the place he called home. As much as his mother cleaned it, with five young children, it was hard to keep anything away from dirt. His entire family relied on his income over the summer, a few Galleons a week for looking after Whizzhard Books, and while he was away at school, his mother worked odd jobs for Muggles. In front of her younger children, Mum had strongly maintained a positive façade, but with Richard, she sometimes slipped and showed the damaged and tired soul she was.

A thousand Galleons could sustain them for a lifetime.

During lunch, Richard approached the goblet with his parchment. Even though a voice in his mind nagged at him to stop, he walked forward, head held high, and placed the slip in the blue flames. Immediately, the fire consumed the parchment without so much as residue to remind Richard of what he’d just done.

*

“Gaunt and Taylor changed their minds,” Cecil whispered to Richard the next day at dinner. “That Gryffindor bloke was also just pacing in front of the goblet. And I haven’t seen Eliza at all after class.”

“She’d put in her name,” Richard replied absentmindedly. He’d seen her come out of the dining hall with her head high as she marched right in front of her Beauxbatons roommate. He kept a steady eye on the goblet whose flames danced at the front of the room teasingly.

“Headmistress is looking rather pale, isn’t she?” Cecil nodded toward Professor Derwent who did indeed look several shades whiter than she had a few weeks ago. She was looking at each of the Hogwarts students with worry etched in her features. “The tasks must be horrible this year,” Cecil commented, blanching as well.

With a noisy arrival most had now associated with her, Eliza bustled into the room, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Where’ve you been?” Cecil asked as he watched Eliza catch her breath.

“Shh, they’re about to start.” Richard hesitated before looking away from the mischievous glint in Eliza’s eyes.

“The goblet,” Headmaster Mirko announced, not bothering to keep the excitement from his voice, “is about to announce the Champions. Would the three named individuals come up to the front of the hall please?”

The torches were blown out suddenly, whether by wind or on purpose for a more dramatic effect, Richard did not know. For whatever reason, the hall was plunged into total darkness, emphasizing the beauty and light the goblet emitted.

The flames turned brighter and brighter. Richard found himself shielding his eyes from the vivid light until it suddenly turned a bright red. Sparks flew in all directions when suddenly, a burst of flame shot up into the air, carrying a charred piece of parchment. Headmaster Mirko caught the parchment and read in a deep voice, “The Durmstrang Champion is…Mihail Veneva!”

The thunderous roar of approval erupted from the front tables. Richard applauded politely watched as his roommate sauntered to the front of the room, accepting congratulations proudly. He stood with his feet apart and faced the dining hall with a satisfied grin on his face.

The now blue flames flickered as if eager to spout the next name. The cheers died down, and once again, the fire turned red. A tongue of flames propelled a second slip out. “The Beauxbatons Champion is… Sylvie Bontecou!”

Richard was surprised when Eliza stood up and clapped so vehemently as her Beauxbatons roommate tripped gracefully to the front of the room. That familiar rogueish smile widened, and Richard knew Eliza had done something to the poor Beauxbatons champion. But before he could ponder this any more, the cacophony of the dining hall died again as the flames turned that ominous red.

Richard had prepared himself as best he could for this moment, repeatedly assuring himself that chosen or not, it was good news all the same.

“The Hogwarts Champion is…Richard Cudney!”

He hardly heard the shouts of surprise around him, and he certainly didn’t know he’d stood up. Suddenly, even the agonizingly bright light of the Goblet of Fire dimmed as Richard slumped to the floor.

---

End notes: This chapter follows as closely to canon as my knowledge of the Harry Potter universe as of July 2, 2007 allows. Any information revealed to be false by Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows will not be changed.

Reviews are graciously accepted and appreciated.

Someone to Embrace
Chapter 3 - Weighing of the Wands

“Richard! Richard, are you all right?”

Richard vaguely felt someone shaking him.

“Don’t touch him,” he heard the sharp voice of Headmistress Derwent say. “Mr Cudney? Mr Cudney, please wake up.” A cool hand touched his forehead.

Richard opened his eyes, dazed. “He’ll be fine,” Headmistress Derwent announced as she gently helped Richard stand up. A blur of red, blue, and black surrounded him. Richard’s sight was still hazy, but he could make out the concerned faces of his friends, the scornful looks of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and the outraged expressions of his fellow Hogwarts students.

Embarrassed, Richard shook off the headmistress as she tried to help him to the front and hobbled as quickly as he could, avoiding eye contact, to stand with the other two champions. Mihail smirked at Richard before turning to Sylvie. “A very good start as champion, no?” he stage-whispered.

Richard heard Headmaster Mirko declare, “You are all dismissed. Please make your way to your rooms. The three champions are to stay behind.” From the slight tremble in his voice, Richard knew the Durmstrang headmaster was struggling to not laugh. Richard stared resolutely forward as the scrapings and clamoring of the dining hall faded.

Suddenly, the torches were relit. Richard blinked rapidly as his pupils adjusted to the light. “Now then.” Headmaster Mirko walked around the high table to get a better look at the three champions. “Your first task will take place two Saturdays from today. No clue will be given about what you will face, for this task is to test your courage in the face of extreme danger. The order by which your parchment came forth from the goblet will be the order with which you will face your task. Mr Veneva of Durmstrang will go first, followed by Miss Bontecue, and lastly Mr Cudney. But first, Mr Platt here,” a man whom Richard hadn’t noticed walked forward, “will weigh your wands. Routine procedure.”

Perplexed, Richard observed the shriveled man carefully as he took Sylvie’s wand. Mr Platt scrutinized the wand from all angles before coming to his conclusion. “Ten inches of willow with a core of baby unicorn hair. Sturdy.” He muttered an incantation under his breath and flicked the wand. A nearby chair turned instantly into a stork. Mr Platt attempted a smile, though he only succeeded in wrinkling his already drooping face further.

“Mr Veneva?” Mihail handed his wand though he’d glanced at his headmaster before doing so. “A whole ten and a half inches �“ of birch and…odd…a feather from a Golden Snidget?” Mr Pratt looked up, frowning deeply.

“Mr Veneva, what is the meaning of this?” Headmistress Derwent strode forward, glaring sternly at the suddenly dwarfed Mihail. “Golden Snidgets have been protected under international law for ages. Plucking even a single feather from one is a very serious offense!”

Headmaster Mirko was by his student’s side in an instant. He stared coldly at Headmistress Derwent. “I shall not have my student wrongfully accused of such crimes right under my very nose.” There was no trace of the little friendliness he had in his voice. “Mihail has a very logical explanation for the core of his wand.”

“The wand was �“ that is �“ it belonged to an ancestor of mine.” Mihail trembled slightly as he explained. Richard secretly did not believe a word he said.

“Vat year, child, was it made?” Lady Larogue peered suspiciously at the wand in question.

“1100s for certain,” Mihail answered, sounding slightly more certain. “Before Golden Snidgets were protected by international law.”

Apparently Headmistress Derwent did not either. “Mr Pratt. I’m sure you have a way to confirm his story?”

Above Headmaster Mirko’s cry of outrage, Mr Pratt squeaked, “Yes, I do.” He hesitated when he glanced at Mirko’s red face, but when prompted by the severe-looking Derwent, he proceeded in a whisper, “The particular type of birch in Mr Veneva’s wand is indigenous to the new world. Due to the Apparation restrictions of the 1100s, when intercontinental travel was limited strictly to Muggle modes of transportation and when Muggles had yet to discover North America…” Mr Pratt hesitated again. “Well, Professor Derwent, the birch and the Golden Snidget feather of this wand had to have come together around the late fifteenth century when Golden Snidgets were already protected by wizard law.”

Richard stared shocked at what the wandmaker had revealed. Mihail himself had blanched, and Mirko trembled with suppressed fury. Headmistress Derwent gazed at Mihail steadily before stating, “I think we need to have a chat, Headmaster Mirko.”

After the Headmaster and Headmistress led Mihail out of the room, Mr Pratt tried to finish the weighing of the wands. He swiftly checked Richard’s wand (“Nine and a half inches of oak and thestral hair. A very speedy wand”), and a quiet Durmstrang professor dismissed Sylvie and Richard to bed. Before leaving, Richard glanced back at the small room where Mihail was most likely receiving a few harsh warnings about the core of his wand.

*

The next morning, Richard told Cecil and Eliza all about the weighing of the wands. When he finished, Cecil muttered, “Odd how Mihail would lie about something so obvious. Everyone knows there was to be a weighing of the wands.”

Eliza seemed to be deep in thought. “But why would having a Golden Snidget core be such a violation of rules?”

Just as Richard began to shrug, a lilting laughter floated down from above them. “Are you not the girl who’d boasted to be from the smartest House in Hogwarts?” Sylvie Bontecou smoothly slid into the empty chair at the table, ignoring Eliza’s sputters in protest. “The Golden Snidget core,” she said, now looking directly at Richard, “is not only illegal because of the protection of the Golden Snidget, it gives the wand, and its owner, an advantage. Golden Snidgets are fast and unbelievably agile, capable of changing directions at an instant’s notice. So, too, are the wands containing Golden Snidget feathers. Wizards have argued, and some have even proven, that such cores give its owners quicker reflexes and thus an unfair advantage in this tournament.”

Cecil blinked while Richard stared at the calm newcomer who was now helping herself to some grapes. “Why are you here?” Eliza growled through clenched teeth. Richard noticed her grip on the edge of the table tightened. “Don’t you have your own friends to bother?”

Sylvie tsked, making a sound not unlike what Mrs Flaherty had made on the platform. “School unity, Miss Flaherty. I encourage you to do the same. You meet so many interesting characters that way.” Sylvie flashed Richard another smile. “But you are right, Miss Flaherty. I do have my friends to greet. Cheerio,” she mocked and glided away to her friends.

“She’s a funny girl, that one,” Cecil watched Sylvie’s retreating back as he popped a grape into his mouth. “Her English is surprisingly good.” Upon seeing Eliza’s seething glare, he added hastily, “Though she does slur her words at the end.”

“Mother’s English,” Eliza explained offhandedly. Turning to Richard, she warned, “Be careful, Richard. She’s very clever and manipulates people very easily. Don’t be fooled by her pretty face.”

Richard chortled though he blushed slightly. “Don’t be silly, Eliza. She’s perfectly harmless. And even if she did try something funny, she can’t possibly be more dangerous than Mihail.”

Cecil shook his head. “Still can’t believe that goof would try to cheat. Tournament hasn’t even started yet.”