Pain Doesn't Cost a Thing by Ron x Hermione
Chapter Notes: Thanks again to the lovely Hallie for beta-ing this chapter. Please enjoy, and I hope you like this chapter, guys. You'll love the next.
A seventeen year old Emma Collins walked into the Great Hall and sat next to her boyfriend of three months, Seth. Seth was a high profile guy; he liked to brag about everything whether it be something he owned or something he had just received. Emma was his favourite thing to boast about.
Seth was a Slytherin, and was a relatively sweet guy and nice as long as you didn’t get on his bad side and that virtually meant that you didn’t go near him. He was a sometimes a sensitive being, but when he was angry, you best not be around him. Sometimes he even took it out on Emma.
Emma’s appearance had only changed slightly from her fifth year; she had an even prettier face and was taller and skinnier, but her shiny hair had stayed the same, and was always hidden behind a headband. The one Brett had given to her.
Brett and Emma had soon found that a long term relationship was as hard as it seemed. Even with the endless letters, emails, and phone calls to each other round the clock, the two had felt something missing with not being able to see each other, and had mutually broke it off, promising to still call and check up on things every once in a while.
There hadn’t been a call or letter from him in a year and a half. The best years of Emma’s life had passed, and while she didn’t find life empty without him, she still felt sad when anyone with the same name was mentioned or her other boyfriend walked and kissed her lovingly on the lips, her still leaning forward and allowing herself to indulge with him into the age of romance. But he was nothing compared to Brett; while Seth was sweet and charming to her most of the time, he liked to boast of his family’s wealth and of Emma, then talk bad about Brett and how he didn’t deserve her and that he, Seth, was the one. Emma didn’t agree so much after that, but she still held on to him.
Emma now sported a particularly sickly-looking yellow and purple bruise just below her left eye. While she told everyone that she had carelessly fallen down the steps and laughed it off, she knew, and loathed, what had really happened.
One night when Seth had returned from Quidditch practice, he had already been angered by the lack of ability on his team, but he had arrived to find Emma helping a sixth year with his homework in the library. The girl had been doing absolutely nothing but aiding the boy with his Potions, but Seth had taken it as cheating (but not with the work) and, being an extremely selfish human being, especially with his girlfriend, he had yanked her by the arm and hit her when they were out of sight of the other students. Afterwards, when Emma had been crying from the blows, he had held her and wept alongside her, promising to never do it again.
That would turn out to be an act of perjury.
But now, the next line of first years walked wide eyed and nervous up to the front of the Great Hall, and even though they had already done this themselves and watched for five years, Emma and Seth still turned around to see the ceremony.
“Allerhand, Aaron,” the headmaster stated, his grey, shaggy hair and beard accentuating his features. His wrinkly skin was plastered to his face, and the eyes that had seen a large number of deaths shined hazel and true. His name was Cornelius Groban and he was, to some, the best headmaster Hogwarts had seen besides a Professor Dumbledore that had lived about fifty years ago.
Headmaster Groban was well-respected in the magical world, as well as by his students (even some of the Slytherins). After the last student was sorted (Whittaker, Joshua), he announced the feast would take place, and before the students knew it, their tables were filled with mountains of food on silver platters. They dug in immediately.
~ * ~
“I must tell you all,” Professor Groban started, his eyes narrowing at the sixth and seventh years oddly, “There will be a very exciting thing coming to Hogwarts this year. But more on this later, as I’m sure that most of us have tucked into so much food that they could fall asleep in their seats with me droning on---”
“Yeah, like he is now,” Seth stated matter of factly. He scoffed and looked at the Headmaster with disgust.
“---more will be said on this subject at a different time. You are dismissed.”
There was soon the sound of scraping benches and yawning students as they filed their way out of the hall, Prefects and Head students calling out “First years, over here!” and waving their arms wildly to receive attention.
Seth passionately kissed Emma goodbye, hoping in his brain that everyone was watching, and he headed to his own dorm, yawning as he threw a leg of half-eaten chicken onto the table where it had already been cleaned. Emma’s eyes looked at him in an “I cannot believe you just did that” stare and she trudged on to her own.
~ * ~
“The Triwizard Tournament is returning to Hogwarts.”
Anxious students began to murmur, their eyes wandering the room to make sure that they weren’t the only ones who had heard such a preposterous thing.
“Though some rules have been changed, it is the same tournament as always.” His eyes twinkled in response to the subject. “Let me fill you in on the history.
“The Triwizard Tournament was customary some eight hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the likes of the three Wizarding schools: Durmstrang, Hogwarts, and Beauxbatons. Only one champion was selected out of many hopeful applicants to represent the school in the many dangerous tasks that the tournament beheld. Once chosen, there is no backing out. There are three tasks; dangerous, competitive tasks that the faint of heart need not even dare apply.
“I warn you, I have seen a tournament such as this one myself and some of the after-effects are . . . shall I say, grueling. Most of you will know that I am referring to the last tournament that was held, in the 1990’s. One of the competitors, Harry Potter, was brought back from a mix-up of the last task unscathed but shaken up, and another was dead. In all of the other tournaments, deaths have always been apparent. The Ministry has since ceased the tournament, but now they have found it applicable to reinstate it once again. They just don’t want the death toll to amount to what it was back then. That’s what discontinued it in the first place.”
Students once again began to murmur through the Great Hall, hands clapping to mouths and whispers emerging from their lips as they realised how treacherous the tournament actually was. Most assumed right off the bat that they were not even going to try to enter; the Headmaster had already politely stated that the contest wasn’t for the feint-hearted. But some held frenzy in their eyes; they wanted that cup. They wanted that tournament to be theirs, and they’d do anything to get it.
“Now, the winner of this tournament will receive one thousand galleons, as always---“ Cheers erupted through the room and some children even clapped, their eyes alight with fresh excitement. “And a cup will also be in their possession,” he finished, a smile spreading across his lips. “Though, there is one rule that I’m sure some of you will not agree with, but it was put into effect for your safety.”
“Oh, Merlin, not an age limit, please,” Seth murmured in Emma’s ears, his body sagging already.
“No one under the age of seventeen is allowed to enter.” He raised his head slightly, continuing the rest of his speech in a louder voice because of the brouhaha that had just commenced from the angry students. “This was established in the last tournament, and the Ministry feels as if it should remain this way.”
“Thank Merlin,” Seth stated, straightening his robes on his shoulders and giving Emma a grin. “I turned seventeen last February.”
“So I must insure you all that an age limit wouldn’t be required unless it was needed. Do not enter this contest even if you are just a bit weary of this.
“Also, the other new rule that this contest has been put under is that it will be finished in one week, unlike the school year it usually takes, as all the rest of the tournaments have. This is to underwrite that all the students, champions or not, are able to keep up in their studies without having to make haste at last minute for all of the excitement. The other two schools that will be visiting us will still be accommodated throughout the rest of the year even after the tournament even though it’s over.
“Now, the main part of the tournament is to make friends. International magical cooperation. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang should be arriving any moment now, and I must warn you all---“ his eyes narrowed at the kids severely. “---if I find that any of my students has . . . mingled wickedly with one of the students of the other schools, you will be severely punished. But I know that you all will extend every courtesy possible to aid them in their stay with us. Let’s all be polite.” His eyes suddenly expanded again and became kind. “The tournament starts the day after tomorrow, and you will have tonight and tomorrow afternoon until three to put your name in the Goblet.” He motioned to the gleaming, ancient looking cup that stood beside him, its edges worn and facaded amongst all the colour in the room. Small, intricate designs were seen if you were to travel closer. Headmaster Groban then clapped his hands and the large doors of the Great Hall opened. Every head of every student turned around on their benches to gaze at what would enter.
No less than twenty girls entered the room, dancing in livelihood of the soft, tinkling music that burst forth from an unseen wand. They danced slowly, their arms moving in circles around and around for all to see. They were utterly graceful, their white and silver robes clashing behind them, their sweet faces smiling at everyone who dared look at their beauty. Their eyes gleamed as they spun around and around, but they came to a brisk walk as their own headmaster entered and they halted at the front of the room.
As soon as the doors were closed, another clap was issued from Groban and another group of children emerged from the doors, boys this time. They were extremely hulky; each one of them looked as if they could bench at least a hundred pounds or so. Some had buzzed hair, some had blonde locks, and some had none. They were all so very different except for their red robes that issued the word ‘Durmstrang’ on their hearts.
“I would like for you all to meet the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons,” Professor Groban stated, his eyes wandering over to the pretty girls on the right side of the hall. “And the challenging competitors of Durmstrang.” The men all bowed at the crowd staring at them in shock.
Professor Groban allowed a few more glances and whispers before exclaiming, “The Triwizard Tournament has officially begun.”
~ * ~
“Come on, Emma; just put your name in.”
“Yeah, Emma, please? I wish I were sixteen by now. I would have put my name in as soon as he announced its beginning.”
The two girls laid their chins dreamily on their fists, propped up against their pillows that they had brought over to Emma’s four-poster.
“I don’t know . . . Professor Groban said that if we had any uncertainties whatsoever that we don’t enter. I have doubts.”
“No, you don’t, it’s just nerves, girl,” one of them said, giving Emma a comforting pat on the shoulder. “You’d be the best candidate in your year.”
Emma smiled at the compliment, but just straightened her camisole with a free hand, the other grasping her knees and bringing them closer to her chest. She stared off the other way, not daring to look at the other two. Her wand rested on the night table beside her, its tip dusty and worn. It hadn’t been polished in a long while. She felt as if her skills were the same.
“I don’t think my ability is up to standard.”
“But this is such a great opportunity! You don’t want to spend the rest of your life wishing that you had entered, do you?” Their eyes widened at the question.
“I don’t know,” Emma stated, her eyes shining because of how highly her friends thought of her.
The girls sighed, then sagged onto the bed, now lying on their pillows.
From a quick spurt of bravery, Emma sat up and a sly smile suddenly was cast across her face.
“I think I’m going to do it.”
~ * ~
Almost a hundred had put their name in the goblet; the many handsome boys from Durmstrang, the lovely, valiant ladies of Beauxbatons, and the daring students of Hogwarts. Each had at least a scrap of fear in their in the actual thought of being chosen, but many figured that their torn scraps of paper placed into the goblet had been a waste of time; how thick could they be to actually attempt to be chosen to represent their school? The very thought chilled some to the bones about the dangerous tasks that lay ahead, but they knew in their hearts that if they were chosen that they were supposed to be. They were destined for great things, Emma had always thought, and she thought the same as she too had placed her piece of parchment into the goblet with her exquisite handwriting of her name and school on it.
Now, as they were called into the Great Hall for the second time in the past few days for the Triwizard Tournament, Emma’s heart was nearly beating out of its chest as she realised, I could actually be chosen.
The other Ravenclaws clapped and cheered as Professor Groban relieved the canvas that covered the Goblet, protecting it in case a careless student should knock it over, shattering it. That would be the end of the Triwizard Tournament forever, and no one wanted that to happen.
“Now, as you all know, the Triwizard Tournament has already begun.” His eyes shined behind an excited smile. They glanced around the room to make sure that he had full attention of the large group of children, but he may as well have not looked, for there was no way that no one was paying attention.
All of a sudden, the frail goblet turned a ghostly blue, its mist now forming a spectre around the front of the hall, all of the teachers staring in earnest at what names would shoot out of its mouth.
“We should be learning of the champions in just a few moments,” Groban said. He clasped his hands together and looked out amongst the students again.
Every eye in the Great Hall was looking at the Goblet, their breaths caught in their throats to know if they were going to be chosen for this honour.
And, then the Goblet turned a bright red, the mist now getting foggier than ever. A small scrap of parchment flew out of it, and every mouth formed a shape like an ‘O’ as Groban picked it up off the floor to read it.
“The Beauxbatons champion is . . .” the Professor stared out into the crowd, allowing the suspense to overtake the students. “Gregoria Bonaparte!”
A girl that didn’t even look fifteen stood up, her grey-blonde hair shining, her blue eyes open in great delight as she walked across the hall to shake the Professor’s hand, then walked back into the room that the other champions, the ones from years and years ago, had waited in to reveal the other champions.
Another fragment came out of the Goblet’s mouth as it turned its cloudy red again.
“The Hogwarts champion is . . .”
Emma glanced around to the Durmstrang table. She didn’t know what she would find, but she just knew that a familiar face was over there. His back was turned to her, but she saw shaggy blonde hair shining behind him. He chatted excitingly among his friends, but he was alert when the Professor spoke.
Suspense followed for another agonising minute, and Groban eventually opened his mouth again.
“. . . is Emma Collins!”
A roar of triumph erupted from the Ravenclaw table, and Emma soon found herself receiving cool pats on the back, hugs from her two best friends, and a lucky kiss from Seth on the cheek. Every mouth was open in cheer from the table, every smile elated, and some eyes of other hopefuls in a contemptuous stare at Emma.
Emma’s heart literally stopped. Me? she asked inside her mind again and again. Me? No, no, it’s made a mistake . . .
But she knew that it hadn’t. If there had been a vote for the best champion, then she would have received it. She was well-liked by many, but it now seemed as if she had made new enemies from being the chosen one for Hogwarts. She treaded slowly to the front of the hall, every eye upon her as Groban shook her hand and gave her a reassuring pat on the back. She couldn’t show fear now; it would look as if she shouldn’t have been chosen. Excitement now flooded through her veins and a smile lit up her face.
“Go Emma!” the Ravenclaws yelled all at once, their cheers once again deafening the Great Hall. The other tables too cheered, also reaching small claps from the Slytherin table because of their knowledge of who she was dating.
“If you could just go on back there . . .” the Professor stated, his finger being pointed to where Gregoria had disappeared; she soon found her legs taking form and walking there. She waked down the small hallway leading to the room and found Gregoria standing there with ears wide open.
“Congratulations!” she said excitedly, giving a friendly hug to the girl and smiling. She didn’t have a French accent like the other Beauxbatons girls, and she sounded quite a bit sweeter as well. Others had looked upon the other students with disdain and disrespect, as if they were better than the others. Emma hoped that the two would become friends even from all the competition that was about to stir up.
“Listen, you can hear him from here!” she stated, they both hiding behind the small corridor right beside the Great Hall. Emma figured she was talking about Professor Groban.
They saw a shadow of the Goblet that they knew was once again and finally turning red, and they heard the infamous rustle of the parchment being shot out.
“The Durmstrang champion is . . .”
Emma didn’t know why it was that she was so excited for the Durmstrang boys. She just felt at home with them; as if she already knew them. She tried to shake this feeling away.
The hall was deafeningly quiet.
“Brett Macauley!”
Emma’s heart stopped for the second time that day as she saw the blonde haired boy that had had her back turned to her walk up to the front of the hall.
Brett.