Chapter 34: The First Task ISummary:You know the title of this story? Girl Who Burned? Well guess what, losers, we're here. The girl burns.Don't say I didn't warn you.
Chapter TextThe next day she woke up early, feeling a little nauseous at the thought of facing a dragon. To her surprise she found a set of school robes that weren't what she usually wore; they were made of a heavier material, and when she felt them a tingle of magic ran up her fingers. She found the bottle of throat tonic in one pocket, and a note beneath the hood:
I had Kreacher fix these up, they should keep you safe. Hopefully you've practiced your Flame Freezing Charms!
-Sirius
Well. Okay then. She showered and then put the new robes on, discovering they fit quite well, though she wouldn't be able to guess what the protective enchantments did. Knowing the Task would take place after lunch, she had a hasty breakfast before hurrying up to the seventh floor, calling up the Room of Requirement and slipping inside for some last minute practice with the spells she'd need: the Summoning Charm, the Flame-Freezing Charm, the Imperius Curse, and the Amplifying and Quietening Charms.
She had no difficulty with any of them, not even the Imperius Curse when the Room gave her a pair of lions to control at the same time. Forcing them to fight one another was hilarious, yet somewhat sickening, and eventually she brushed the scene away. "This place gets weirder every time I come in," she said to herself, gulping some water down. The torches flickered and sparked, making a sound she'd swear was like laughter.
Eventually she had to leave, and she took a moment to ensure her defenses were intact before stepping out and slipping back downstairs, where she forced herself to eat lunch. She was just glad she had had her period the week before, so she wouldn't have to put up with feeling slick and gross down there during the Task; some girls had cramps during their time, and she was quite glad her body didn't hate her that badly just yet.
All too soon, Professor McGonagall was coming down towards her. "Come with me, Miss Potter," she said primly, "the Champions are expected ahead of everyone else."
"Yes ma'am." She gulped down the last of her milk and stood, somehow both nauseous and resolute at the same time.
"Good luck, Hazel," Draco said, reaching out to grip her hand firmly for a moment. "We'll all be rooting for you!"
She didn't say anything in return, she just gripped his hand back and kept going. Her ears were filled with a rushing sound; she couldn't hear anything else going on in the Hall as she crossed it, she could barely hear her own footsteps. Her mind had gone curiously blank, as if unable to process the dread she was feeling any longer.
Eventually she noticed McGonagall was speaking. "You mustn't panic, of course," she was saying, anxiety written across her normally-cool features. "There are specialists on hand in case anything goes wrong, and powerful wards in place for the crowd. Just do your best, alright, Miss Potter? No one will think less of you."
"Yes ma'am," she replied automatically, smiling up at her. It felt more like a grimace, though, and she dropped it quickly. "Where's Professor Snape?"
"Severus is helping out with security," she replied. "Follow the trees, now."
They were taking the same long walk that had led her and Cedric along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, she noted; it seemed much friendlier in the daylight, even if the sunlight was weak and wintery. If she recalled her last trek rightly, there was just one more clump of trees before the enclosed pit that held the dragons… but the view was blocked by a large purple tent, its entrance facing outward.
"Wait inside, Potter, and Bagman will issue final instructions," McGonagall explained. "Good luck." She reached out and squeezed Hazel's shoulder, and turned away, presumably headed for wherever the audience would be.
"Thanks," Hazel called after her. No one was around; she quickly swallowed the vial of tonic before ducking through into the tent, grimacing as her throat went all numb and tingly.
Fleur was already inside, sitting on a stool in the corner, looking quite pale and clammy. "Where are the boys?" she asked in a shaky voice, seeing Hazel step inside.
"No idea," she replied, shrugging and sitting down too. "I didn't see them on the way down."
Minutes later the flap opened again, and Krum slouched in, followed by Cedric and Bagman. Krum looked even surlier and more out of sorts than ever; Cedric was very pale, and he had a frozen sort of smile on his face. Bagman, on the other hand, was offensively cheerful as usual, even worse for wearing his too-tight Beater's robes again. "Everyone here?" he chirped, bouncing on the balls of his feet. There was a dim murmur of assent, but he wasn't to be curtailed by such a thing as that. "Excellent, excellent! Let's crack on, shall we?"
Mr Crouch slipped in behind Bagman. "Ludo will shortly hand a sack around, and you will each withdraw a scale model of the creature you will face out there," he told them all. Hazel thought he looked marginally healthier than he had before, though that might have been because it was daytime. "Your task is simple: collect the golden egg."
Krum scoffed, Fleur rolled her eyes, Cedric turned green; Hazel made some disbelieving noise. None of them believed for a second it would be simple.
"Let the audience come in first," Bagman said brightly, holding the bag up and shaking it; smoke seemed to be curling up from the top of it. In no time at all the sound of hundreds of feet passing by outside, and the sound of laughter and voices, all went by, and then Bagman held up the bag.
"Ladies first!" he proclaimed, offering it to Fleur and Hazel. Fleur went first, reaching in and withdrawing a perfect little Welsh Green that fit easily in the palm of her hand, which had a number Two tied around its neck. She showed no surprise, just a deeper resignation, and Hazel knew she'd been warned. "Miss Potter?"
Hazel gulped and reached into the sack, fumbled about with her fingers and pulled out the black Hungarian Horntail, marked with the number Four. It stretched its wings and bared its tiny fangs.
"And now the lads!" Bagman laughed, offering the sack to Cedric and Krum. Krum went ahead, with an air of a man wanting to get it all over with, and withdrew the skeletal blue Swedish Short-Snout with little fanfare, marked with the number Three; and Cedric was left with the Chinese Fireball and the number One.
"I'd expect a little more alarm," Mr Crouch said suspiciously, glancing from one Champion to another. "You were all forewarned somehow, were you not?"
"So what if we were?" Krum growled, shoving the little model into his pocket and getting up in the old man's face. "What difference does it make?!"
"Easy, Viktor, easy," Bagman said quickly, inserting himself between the two of them. "It hardly makes any difference! Why don't you head outside, Barty?"
"Fine," he replied curtly, turning on his heel and striding outside.
"Whew." Bagman wiped his brows and beamed at the four of them. "Well, any last questions?"
"You never answered me from yesterday, sir," Hazel replied, giving him a meaningful look.
"Huh? Oh, uh- right! Yes, I had to consider it, but yes!" he answered, wiping his brow again. "Ah, I've got to run, I'm supposed to commentate! Diggory, at the whistle, the show is yours!" and he dashed off outside.
"What a strange man," Krum muttered, kicking the ground.
A whistle blew, and Cedric strode out, looking greener than ever. Fleur took up pacing back and forth, so Hazel sat down, clearing her mind and focusing on her plan. Broomstick, charms, talk, Curse, she thought over and over, ignoring the screams and cheers from outside. Broomstick, charms, talk, Curse…
Ten minutes later there was a deafening roar, which she assumed meant Cedric had won. Next was Fleur, who squared her shoulders and went to meet her doom. Again, Hazel tuned out all the noise, focusing only on her own way out. Broomstick, charms, talk, Curse…
Another ten minutes later Fleur must have succeeded, for the crowd was roaring once more. A whistle blew and Krum stormed out; Hazel dimly wondered why he was always so angry, and what or who he was angry at. It didn't matter, though. Broomstick, charms, talk, Curse…
She could feel her heart racing, her blood thundering through her body. Any minute now, Krum would win or he would lose, and then it would be her turn to face a fiery, spiky death… Broomstick, charms, talk, Curse…
A final burst of applause told her Krum had taken his egg; she closed her eyes, forced herself upright, went to stand before the flap. Broomstick, talk, char- no, dammit, Broomstick, charms, talk-
The whistle blew, wiping away all thought. Clutching her wand, she wobbled her way outside.
A mound of rocks and boulders had been formed, and the dragon and her clutch waited atop it, the golden egg glittering at the very center. The rest of the arena was strewn with more boulders, forming cover and crevasses. It was no good running, she knew the Horntail could shoot flames nearly fifty feet away from herself. Even as she thought that, the Horntail saw her and shot a wide blast of flames at her; she stood her ground, threw up a Shield Charm and blocked the flames!
She didn't wait around, she dashed for cover and pointed her wand skyward! "Accio Firebolt!" she called, waiting only seconds for her broom to shoot around and stop before her. Broomstick! She pointed her wand at her throat and muttered, "Sonorus!" and mounted her broom, hoping against hope the dragon could be reasoned with. Charms! She darted up into the air, avoiding another burst of flames through sheer speed and maneuverability. Now it was time for Talk!
"Wait! Please wait! I don't want to hurt you!" Hazel shouted, hovering before the dragon outside the reach of her claws. "I just want the egg!" Even through the numbness she could feel the words tearing her throat, but she willed herself to ignore it.
The presence of a human witch who could speak her tongue was enough to startle the dragon out of her rage. "A Speaker?" she replied, glaring at Hazel. "What is the meaning of this?!"
"It's a game, it's a stupid game!" Hazel replied. "One of the eggs you guard is false, and I must retrieve it from you!"
"Fool! I know all my eggs by true smell, all are mine! All came from me!"
"No, one of them does not! Use your EYES, not your nose!"
Snarling suspiciously, the dragon bent her neck around to examine her clutch, touching each one with the tip of her nose. But sure enough, she caught the glint of gold on the false egg. "You speak truly, Speaker, there IS a false egg here!"
"Yes! Let me have it and I will leave you alone, and they will surely return you to your home!"
The dragon shook with what Hazel realized was laughter. "Why should I make it easy on you, spawn of wizards? You said it yourself, this is a game. What would be the victory in being handed your prize?"
Of course it wouldn't be so easy. She twisted the broom to one side and stood up on it, keeping her balance by holding her hands out. "I don't want to fight you, dragon, but I will if you leave me no choice. I know magic that will COMPEL you to step aside!"
"Then try it, Speaker! Try your spells! Draw your wand and COMPEL me, if you think you can!"
Fine then. She drew her wand and focused inward, focused on the overwhelming desire to get this over withby any means necessary. The dragon had invited her to try, and try she would! Curse! "IMPERIO!" she yelled, feeling her magic erupt outward to ensnare the dragon's mind!
It didn't work. She was too foreign, too primitive and bestial, for Hazel's powers to affect her. But she tried anyway! Stand aside! she thought, focusing all her power through her wand. Stand aside and let me take the egg! "Get the fuck out of my way!"
The dragon laughed again, shaking off her compulsions as easily as shaking off water. "Lower your wand and stand still, Speaker. Lower your wand or we fight to the death!" Carefully, Hazel returned her wand to its sheath and stood there, balanced on her broom before the dragon. The dragon took a breath and shot out a thin tongue of flame, which passed very close to Hazel's head; it took all her Occlumency to keep from flinching, to keep from reaching up to shield herself; she could smell her hair burning, feel her scalp scorching, but still the flames kept coming; a memory of Quirrell's charred flesh and burning skull flickered through her mind, but she willed it away, she didn't have time for that…
Finally the flames stopped, and the dragon lowered her head. "Now you are Marked, Speaker," she rumbled, relaxing her guard and backing away from her eggs. "Now you can claim your prize. But touch any other egg and you will die on the spot."
"Thank you," Hazel replied, tipping her broom forward and flying downward. There was nothing to fear, she had bargained with the dragon and claimed her prize, and as she hovered over the clutch she reached down to scoop up the golden egg. But it was unexpectedly heavy, and she had to use both hands to grip it and bring it close. Once it was safely tucked under one arm, she looked up and smiled at the dragon, rising upward until she was within touching distance of her massive horned head. "Truly, thank you, O great one."
She reached out, and the dragon leaned forward, allowing her snout to be stroked for the briefest moment. And then Hazel could fly away at last, cast a Flame-Freezing Charm on the side of her head and a Quietening Charm on her throat; the cheers and screams of the crowd reached her, and she stared at them in confusion, having forgotten they were even there.
"Look at that!" Bagman was shouting hysterically. "Our youngest Champion TALKED to the dragon and got the egg in the fastest time! But not without incident, oh no!"
The dragon keepers rushed in, but the Horntail cared only for her eggs. Hazel was waved to the other end of the arena, where the judges had front row seats. Dumbledore stood. "Before we confer about your score, Hazel, we would like to know what spell you used on the dragon, while you were still speaking its language."
"That was the Imperius Curse, Professor," she replied, massaging her throat as she spoke. "It was the only way, she ordered me to try and compel her or fight to the death. It didn't work of course, but she was impressed anyway."
"I see." He didn't look very happy, but Karkaroff seemed quite pleased at least. "Please see Madam Pomfrey about the burns on your head while we discuss your performance."
"Get down here immediately, Potter!" Madam Pomfrey called, beckoning imperiously. Hazel flew down and dismounted, holding her broom in one hand and the egg beneath her arm. "In the tent, come on! Dragons, of all things!"
Pomfrey's tent had cots and curtains, and Hazel sat down on one of them. "How could you just hover there and let that thing burn you?" she ranted, waving her wand over the burns on her head. "That was dragon fire, it'll never heal properly! You'll be half bald the rest of your life!"
"It shows I survived a dragon head-on, Madam Pomfrey, I think I can live with it," she explained, trying not to smile.
"You say that now," Pomfrey muttered, smearing a thick orange paste all over the side of her head. "Sit still for a minute and let that work into you, then you can go get your score. You can wash it off when you return to the castle."
Sit still? Yeah right! Hazel hopped off the bed, wishing for a mirror. She didn't get very far in her pacing before the tent flapped open and some of her friends ran in: Draco, Luna and Hermione. "Hazel, they're saying you tried to Imperio the dragon!" Hermione squeaked, dashing up to her. "How could you just stand there, didn't it hurt?!"
"I did try and put the Imperius Curse on the dragon," Hazel replied curtly. "And, yeah, being burned hurt, but I had to endure it or it would've gone a lot worse."
"That was crazy!" Draco said excitedly. "The others did great too, but you were definitely the fastest!"
"Hazel, take these," Luna said, pushing some things into her hand. She looked down and saw a handful of dried orange flower petals, shrugged and popped them into her mouth. "Don't chew, just swallow them all whole."
They tasted bland, and were thick in her mouth, but she managed it after a few moments. "What are they? What will they do?"
"Dirigible plum blossoms," she explained, burrowing in under Hazel's arm. "They'll help you heal."
"Thanks, Luna." She wondered what a proper Healer would think, and decided not to worry about it. Instead she took the chance to catch her breath and rest, leaning on Luna, her other friends silent for the moment.
Chapter 35: The First Task IISummary:In which Hazel gets her scores and a few surprises too.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextA minute later Pomfrey reappeared. "They're ready for you now, Miss Potter," she said. Hazel nodded, stood up and went back outside, to stand before the judges and await her score, still holding the egg in one arm and Luna in the other.
"Each judge has awarded marks out of ten based on their assessment of the Champion's performance!" Bagman announced, thrusting his wand skyward; silver ribbon erupted forth and twisted into an elaborate number ten. The crowd went wild, and Hazel felt her heart lift.
Madame Maxime went next, and her ribbon resolved into a figure eight. Dumbledore hesitated before shooting a silvery five into the air, and the crowd booed dramatically; Hazel wasn't surprised, she had used Dark Magic, after all, but it still stung just a bit.
Karkaroff and Crouch both gave her nines, and she grinned again, though she also wondered why Crouch had marked her so high, given his dislike of the Dark Arts. Maybe it was because she had used them on a dragon, so it wasn't illegal? Whatever.
"You're in first place, Hazel, just barely ahead of Delacour!" Draco said from behind her. "You might stand a chance in this!"
"Of course I do," she replied blithely. "I was forced into this, but I'll be damned if I just give up and wait to lose!" Which was more literal than they had to know, honestly. "Ugh, Draco, here-" She shoved the Firebolt at him and readjusted her grip on the egg, it was easier that way to keep Luna close by.
There was a crowd surrounding her, clapping and cheering, and she held the golden egg high for everyone to see. And then Ron pushed out of the crowd and blocked her way forward. "Hazel! You- you were amazing!"
"Thank you, Ron," she replied, a little coolly, the crowd kind of going quiet. Was he still going to be a prat?
He must have sensed it, because he cringed back, but then got a grip on himself. "Look, I… I didn't believe it at first, you know, when they said you'd been conned into the Tournament. Especially after Skeeter took your side! But- but I reckon someone really is trying to kill you, aren't they?!"
"Yeah, Ron, I reckon so too," she replied, letting herself relax. She saw Bagman waving at her from the purple tent and sighed. "Save it, alright? I've gotta go." She went around him and kept going, and the crowd parted before her so she could get inside the tent.
The other Champions were waiting inside already. Krum looked rather less surly than he had this whole time, which she guessed meant he was relieved. Fleur's skirt was singed along the bottom, and her outfit rather wet all around, which she had to try not to stare at; Cedric's face had a large glop of the same orange burn paste that Hazel's head was drenched in. He smiled at her as she came in, and she grinned back.
"Well done, all of you!" Bagman proclaimed, clapping his hands. "And I do mean all of you, yes! You all retrieved your eggs in the end! Now, a few words before you return to your adoring fans. The next Task will take place on Saturday, February 25, at half-past nine in the morning! Plenty of time to get ready, no?"
Hazel blinked at that. "Er, get ready for what, exactly?" she asked.
"Ah ha! Examine your eggs! You will find hinges, where they open! Listen carefully to the clues inside, they will lead you along the victorious path! And that's all I'm allowed to say, sadly! Off you go!"
"What a strange man," Krum said, inspecting the hinges of his egg. "Should we open them now?"
Hazel was about to agree when the tent flap opened and Rita Skeeter appeared, Bozo the cameraman in tow. "Our victorious dragon conquerors!" she gushed. "Could I get a quick word from any of you? What was it like facing a dragon? Did you feel you were scored fairly?"
"I have nothing to say to you," Krum snarled, shoving his way past without looking back.
"How rude!" Rita said, though she shrugged it off in the next moment. "I do hope our remaining Champions have some manners?"
"Well! It was terribly startling, of course," Fleur began, posing unconsciously as Bozo leered at her. "But I suppose we had to deal with the unexpected, no?"
While Fleur kept Rita occupied, Hazel and Cedric slipped around and left the tent. "So, how'd everyone do?" she asked.
"Oh, well, I tried distracting mine with a dog, but she changed her mind at the last second, I barely got out of the way," he replied, gesturing to the burn on his face. "Fleur tried putting hers to sleep, and that nearly worked, but then she kind of snored? And that lit her clothes on fire so she had to put them out."
"What a shame," Hazel remarked, remembering the sight of the French girl in wet clothes.
"And Viktor, I think he used the Conjunctivitis Curse, and that worked really well, but she trampled most of her actual eggs because of the pain, and he's in last place for it right now."
Last place? "Ten sickles says he wasn't really trying," she said, remembering his constant displeasure at being part of the Tournament. "No one told us we had to leave the other eggs intact."
Cedric just shrugged. "I guess the scores are a little arbitrary, since you mention it."
"This whole Tournament feels a little arbitrary," she groused. "How did the judges score?"
"I think Crouch was the fairest, he marked everyone down a little bit for injuries and things. Bagman gave everyone a ten of course, big old cheerleader that he is." He rolled his eyes. "Karkaroff gave Viktor an eight even though he smashed half the eggs, and he gave Fleur and I each a five, so when you got a nine from him I was a bit surprised."
"Well, I did use the Dark Arts," she pointed out. "Or I tried to anyway. It didn't actually work? Dragons' minds are too different from ours, it turns out. And Dumbledore?"
"He scored you the lowest, and he gave me a nine," was the reply. "Maxime was fair enough too, she marked everyone down a little for things."
"Hmm." She wasn't sure what to think, she was just glad it was over. "Oh well, I'll have a cool new look from now on, at least!" The thought of what Pansy would say when she saw made her laugh, and she looked forward to the inevitable victory party that was sure to engulf the Slytherin common room tonight.
Her friends were waiting inside the doors, and she waved to Cedric as she went to meet them. "Alright, guys?"
"That was amazing, Hazel, you really showed them," Millicent said, smirking.
Ron was lurking behind everyone, looking nervous and agitated. Hazel sighed. "Ronald Weasley, stop sulking and get up here," she called.
"Right." The crowd parted and he slouched up closer. "I, um, wanted to, you know… apologize…"
Hazel crossed her arms. "For what?"
"For, um, doubting you? And for not believing what happened?" Encouraged by her lack of reaction, he pressed forward. "I mean, whoever put your name in is really trying to kill you!"
"Yes, they are." She rolled her eyes. "You said that already, though. And you haven't actually apologized yet."
"What? Yes I did, I-"
"No, you haven't, you just said you wanted to apologize. So apologize already or get out of the way!"
He muttered something that sounded like 'bloody girls' under his breath. "Fine. I, I'm sorry for doubting you, Hazel."
Better. Was that enough groveling? For now, it'd do. "I suppose I can accept your apology, Ron."
"Oh good." He grinned, and they were friends again, just like that. "Enjoy the party!"
Parties were best enjoyed while clean, and Hazel definitely wanted to clean up. She went straight downstairs and to her dorm, where she threw all her clothes off and took a long, hot shower, grimacing at the rough, patchy texture of the burned skin on her head. If it never healed that would be fine; less hair to deal with!
She stepped out, stood at the vent and moved to the mirrors. "Damn," she muttered, staring at herself. A little under half of her head was burned, covered in strange scar tissue; it seemed to pulse slightly as she watched it. She reached up and felt it, and realized the scars were warmer than the rest of her skin. Was that some remnant of the dragon's flame?
She frowned as she realized that, with the scarring on the left side of her head, there was no longer an easy way to hide the scar Voldemort had left her. Before she could just let her hair cover it, but no longer. Then she sighed and pushed the thought away; if that scar grew every time she encountered Voldemort, it would have covered her entire face before long. She played around with her hair a little, then gave up and threw it all over her shoulder, letting the burned side of her head stand on its own merits.
Eventually she left the bathroom, and as she had expected, the others were waiting for her. "What were you thinking, Potter?" Pansy demanded when she saw what was left of her hair. "Did you really have to let yourself be permanently disfigured to get that stupid egg?"
"It was that or be permanently dead," Hazel countered. "Come on, it's not that bad. Is it?"
"Not that bad!" she moaned. "For a Muggle punk artist, it's not that bad! For a Weird Sisters groupie, it's not that bad! But YOU are a Slytherin, and for you it is that bad!What were you thinking!"
"Stop being so dramatic, Parkinson, I swear to God," she replied. "Dragon fire is literally the only thing that can stop my hair growing back, it's actually kind of nice to not have to deal with half of it. Now come on, I know you guys are only here to distract me from going up to the common room until they've got the party ready."
"I have no idea what you mean," Pansy sniffed, even as she was dragging Hazel to her makeup chair. "Now sit still while we try and fix this mess!"
It was funny watching them prod at her face and hair with their wands, adjusting her appearance to fit whatever macabre standards of appearance they had in mind for her. "Gimme something a little paler, would you?" she asked at one point, frowning at the bright red colors on her face. "You know I prefer black."
"Ugh." Fortunately it just took a flick of a wand to fix it. "There, happy?"
"I'm glad to see you're still eating," she said instead, looking at her dorm mate in the mirror. "Has your dad given you any more shit?"
"I haven't exactly heard from him in a while, so he hasn't had the chance to," she replied absently, now moving onto Millicent.
Eventually there was a knock on the door. "Hey, we're ready," an upper-year girl called, "bring her on out here!"
"My adoring public awaits," Hazel laughed, finally getting up to go celebrate.
The second she stepped into view everyone cheered, and she laughed back at them. There was plenty of food and lots of chilled butterbeer, and even a few bottles of firewhiskey under the close supervision of the older prefects. Someone had even put up banners of her performance against the dragon, waving her wand at the beast while standing on her Firebolt.
Still laughing, she made up a plate and went over to the prefects. "Just a sip, then?"
"A toast for our Champion!" the girl said grandly, pouring out a shot glass with an expert dip and presenting it. "To the Girl Who Lived! Hazel Potter!"
"Hazel Potter!" everyone who had a drink called out, and Hazel raised her glass and threw its contents back all at once.
"Open the egg!" someone yelled, and Millicent pushed the thing into her hands. "Let's see what's inside!"
"Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a bunch." Hazel ran her finger along the hinge, but at the other end found a seam that she could prise open. Immediately the most god-awful screeching and wailing filled the whole room; several people screamed back, and more than one dropped a glass or plate to cover their ears against the cacophony!
"Shut it! Make it stop!" Draco shouted, and Hazel fought for a second to slam the thing closed again. Finally she managed it, and blessed silence reigned for a few moments.
"That was a banshee, wasn't it?" Tracey said, staring at the golden egg. "They're gonna make you fight a banshee, Hazel!"
"It sounded like someone being tortured to me," Pansy muttered, looking quite pale and on the verge of falling over. "Like someone was throwing the Cruciatus Curse on them!"
"That's illegal, Pansy, don't be daft," Daphne replied. "Ten sickles says it was a mermaid, though, they sound just like that out of water."
"You think it'd make a different sound if we submerged it first?" Hazel said thoughtfully. "I guess it couldn't hurt." She put the egg aside, behind a couple of cushions on the couch so it wouldn't roll about. "Whatever, let's party!"
The party went on for hours, and the butterbeer never seemed to run out. Eventually the prefects gave up and the firewhiskey flowed just as freely, and that was when Hazel lost track of the proceedings.
And when she woke up the next morning in Pansy's bed, she had time to think that dragons weren't so bad before Pansy herself woke up and screamed.
Notes:Pansy seems to be in denial, doesn't she?
Chapter 36: The Truth About Professor BurbageSummary:In which Hazel and friends get the shock of their lives. Charity Burbage is not who they thought she was!
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextAfter frantically reassuring Pansy that drunkenly sleeping with one's rival didn't mean one was gay (and besides, the others swore up and down nothing actually happened, that they just kissed and pulled at each other's clothes before falling asleep), Hazel went for a hangover potion and a cold shower to start the day. She thought about messing with the egg, but something in her recoiled; February was months away, and she had a splitting headache besides.
Fortunately she managed to put herself together before heading out for breakfast, and she got quite a few confused or admiring looks for her new appearance. And for once she didn't mind being stared at!
Professor Burbage was in charge of the dueling club again, and she ran them through the finer points of moderating and overpowering the strength of one's spells. Hazel took great pleasure in blasting Draco all over the place, and in creating shields so thick not even his strongest spells could pierce it.
"That's a fine shield you have there, Miss Potter," Burbage said sweetly. "Maybe it needs a better opponent to try and bust through it?"
"Who'd you have in mind, ma'am?" she asked, focusing on keeping her shield up.
"Myself, of course." She waved Draco aside and took his place, standing across from Hazel. Hazel smirked and held her wand at the ready, wondering what would happen next.
She didn't even have time to cast her shield; the Professor moved so fast that the world was exploding around her before she had any idea what else was happening, and then she crashed into the floor and slid up against the wall with a thump. "Ow! Fuck," she grumbled, struggling to her feet.
"Language, Miss Potter," Burbage called out. "Care to go again? I'll let you get your shield up first, even."
"You're on!" Hazel got back to her spot, chugged some Wiggenweld and conjured the strongest shield she could muster, putting all of her focus into it. It hovered like glass before her, distorting her view of the Professor.
"Ooh, that IS quite the shield!" she called, flicking her wand. A red jet of light shot forth and slammed into her shield; it made a low gong, but held. "Let's try this, then! Bombarda Maxima!"
Hazel had a split second to notice the tiny pinpoint of orange light flung at her before her shield exploded and she was, once again, thrown off her feet so hard she crashed against the wall! This time she hit hard enough that something cracked in her back and she blacked out before falling limply to the floor.
When she awoke, she was in the Hospital Wing, and Madam Pomfrey was fussing over her. "You're awake, good. Where does it hurt?"
"M-My head," she groaned. "Thirsty…"
"I shouldn't wonder your head hurts! You got thrown so hard you made a dent in the wall!" Fingers prodded at the back of her skull, and she winced. "Lucky for you it isn't permanent, and Charity had the worst of it fixed up in a jiffy, but she thought it best to have me look you over just in case."
She felt a flask bump into her hand, and she had a long cold drink. "Can I get something for the pain before I leave?"
"Certainly." She held out a familiar purple potion, and Hazel drank it with a grimace. "Rest for a few minutes, then you're free to go."
The matron bustled off, and Hazel realized Draco, Hermione and the Professor were waiting there too. "Oh, hey guys. That was quite the spell you cast, Professor."
"It was, wasn't it?" She seemed pleased. "I knew you could handle it, you're still quite young after all."
She supposed wizards could afford to be so blase about bodily damage when a wave of a wand could restore the worst of it.
"How come you teach Muggle Studies and not Defense, Professor?" Hermione asked.
"A few reasons. One, I'm the most qualified for teaching young purebloods about Muggles and why we should treat them with respect and caution, and two, I rather fancy staying here for the long term, instead of dropping out after a year."
"How long has that been going on, anyway?" Draco wondered. "Both of my parents always said the school could never keep a Defense teacher longer than a year, they thought it was cursed."
"As long as I've known, for certain," Burbage sighed. "Some years there'd be a halfway competent person, some years you'd swear they'd hit the bottom, but it didn't matter. None of them lasted more than a year."
"How on earth could the students get any decent Defense instruction, then?" Hazel asked.
"Most of them did what you did, Miss Potter, and just taught yourselves for years on end. Other times the Headmaster brings in assistant teachers, since the curse or jinx or whatever only affects the main Defense position. I remember Bill Weasley held an after-hours Defense club for a couple years, though he couldn't do it full time because of his work for Gringotts."
"It sounds like Aurors and curse-breakers make the best Defense teachers," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Which makes sense, they'd have to know the Dark Arts really intimately to fight them for a living."
"Are you a Muggleborn yourself, Professor?" Draco asked.
"I am. I was also in Her Majesty's Royal Marines for several years, as part of the rapid deployment forces."
"I bet that was intense!" he said admiringly. "Where did-?"
"Draco!" Hermione hissed, reaching over to flick his ear. "Shut up, you don't ask that!"
Burbage didn't seem outwardly offended, but Hazel thought she was glad Hermione had intervened. "Well, I should be off. I suspect you're well enough recovered to get up and about, Miss Potter." She stood and left the Hospital Wing without another word.
"Draco, you prat, you offended her!" Hermione hissed, flicking his ear again.
"Ow! What did I say?! OW! Stop it!" he whined, ducking and running out of the room with Hermione hot on his heels.
Hazel rolled her eyes, huffed a sigh and got out of the bed, making sure she had her clothes and everything else before leaving. She figured she'd head for her dorm and try the egg in the baths, now that she was feeling better.
Unfortunately, her dorm didn't have a bath. So she put the egg in her bag and went up to the Room of Requirement. Once up there, she checked the Marauders' Map to make sure no one was coming up here too, and paced before the empty stretch of wall. I need a place to study my egg, she thought carefully. Somewhere I can go underwater with it, somewhere I can be alone with my egg…
She opened her eyes, found a door, and went through it to find herself in a small room with a deep pool; the steam coming off it made it clear the pool was heated, so it was probably more like a large bath, wasn't it? It didn't matter; she closed and locked the door, threw all her clothes off and slid into the water, finding it perfectly heated for herself. It felt a bit cool on the scarred side of her head though, which was weird but whatever.
Naturally she spent a few minutes kicking around beneath the water, enjoying the warmth against her bare skin. Then she got serious and surfaced once more to get the egg, taking a deep breath and ducking down underneath to pry the egg open underwater. She was met by a chorus of eerie voices all singing as one:
Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching, ponder this:
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took.
But past an hour - the prospect's black
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.
That was weird. She let it sing a few more times, surfacing for breath as necessary, then wrote the lyrics down to study them later, when she didn't have to duck her head. On the surface it seemed simple enough; she had an hour to swim somewhere and recover something important to her. If mermaids were involved it was likely to be the Black Lake, and in February it would still be bitterly cold.
"Krum's gonna have an advantage this time," she decided.
So what was she gonna do about it? She'd definitely have to learn the Bubble-Head Charm, practice casting underwater, work on her Warming Charms, maybe figure out some kind of Transfiguration to, like, turn her socks into flippers or whatever. She'd definitely have to blackmail Bagman into letting her take her rings into the Lake, too.
Whatever, she had months to think it over. She pushed herself out of the pool and looked around, wishing for- oh look, one of those cool vents for drying off. She stood over it and let it blow her dry, and she remembered she still had the Aging Potion; well, she had reason to celebrate tonight, didn't she?
With that reassuring thought in mind she got dressed and went back into the castle at large, deciding to fly about until it was time for dinner. She noticed Krum was less surly and more anxious that evening, and wondered why.
She didn't have to wonder for long. "Excuse me, Potter?" he asked hesitantly.
"Mm?" She had to swallow a mouthful of roast beef. "Yes?"
"You, um, you flew well yesterday," he mumbled.
"Thanks?" She hadn't done much actual flying, apart from showing off by surfing her broom. "That means a lot, coming from you."
"Yes." He had said what he wanted to say, and retreated to his usual surly self very quickly, scowling at her and looking away.
Hazel just rolled her eyes and went back to her own meal. Why were the foreign Champions so shitty? Fleur couldn't stop posing and preening for Bozo or Colin and Krum was about as friendly as one of Hagrid and Charlie's skrewts. And Cedric seemed determined to make up for them both, being the perfect friendly, chaste gentleman to everyone and sundry.
"Am I the only normal Champion in this school?" she muttered, sighing.
Pansy overheard, and scoffed. "Of course you are, Potter, but don't let it get to your head. I won't let you!"
"Sure you won't." She scoffed back and rolled her eyes, eager for the end of the day. After dinner she went up to the common room and did her homework, where she updated her friends on what she had learned from the egg. "Something important to me's gonna be at the bottom of the Lake and I have to swim down there and get it back within an hour," she summarized, handing the copy she had made of the egg's song to Draco. "I'm gonna have to learn the Bubble-Head Charm, as well as underwater casting, and some kind of flipper switching spell or other."
"Good plan." Draco handed the copy to Blaise and turned in his seat. "Warrington! Come over here!"
Cassius looked up, said something to his mates and ambled over. "What's up, fourthies?"
"Hazel has to learn the Bubble-Head Charm by February, think you can help?" Draco replied.
"Oh, yeah sure. Is it for the next Task?"
"Yeah, I've gotta swim to the bottom of the Lake. I think," Hazel explained, working on an essay for Runes.
"Oof. Better make sure your Warming Charms are up to snuff. Have Charlie go over grindylows too, there's lots of them down there." He thought for a second, tapping his wand against his palm. "I wouldn't worry about the merpeople or the giant squid, honestly. The squid is harmless and the merpeople know not to hurt us, though they have the right to self defense like anyone else so don't mess with them unless you have to."
"Right." That didn't sound so hard. "Professor Lupin told us grindylows are simple enough one on one, any offensive spell that works underwater can drive them off. The trick is to keep your head in case they swarm you."
"Sounds about right," Cassius agreed. "Well, it's a bit late tonight, but I'll find time to work with you over the week, alright?"
"Sure, thanks." He nodded and got up to rejoin his mates, and Hazel went back to her homework.
Later that evening, she put up plenty of Muffling Charms around her bed and tried out the Aging Potion, and found the results quite well worth the wait, indeed.
Notes:Psyche.
Chapter 37: Balls!Summary:McGonagall drops a real bombshell on everyone's plans. Hazel fails to course correct. What do?
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextThe first order of business that week was to ask Flitwick after class about underwater casting. "Professor Flitwick, if I might have a moment of your time?" she asked.
"I always have a moment for one of my best students!" he said cheerfully. "What can I do for you, Miss Potter?"
"Sir, I was curious about casting spells underwater?" she began innocently. "Is it much different from regular casting?"
He gave her a shrewd look, and she knew he had seen right through her. But he answered anyway. "Obviously there are a number of spells that function quite differently underwater," he replied. "We don't have time to review them all now, so why don't you come back during lunch and we'll practice while we eat?"
"Sounds good, Professor, thank you." She bowed and went on outside to Care of Magical Creatures. Here, they had wisely given up on caring directly for the skrewts, and were having a lesson on fire crabs instead. Hazel could see similarities between the crab on display and the skrewts, and wondered if Hermione's guess had been accurate.
"Charlie, if you have a moment, could we go over grindylows?" she asked at one point, while the rest of the class was sketching their fire crab.
"Now Hazel, you know we can't help you directly," he admonished. "I'd imagine Hagrid wouldn't mind, though, eh? He's not a Professor after all." He had raised his voice on the name, and Hagrid looked up and ambled over as Charlie walked off to correct a few errant quills.
"Sup, Hazel?" Hagrid asked.
"Grindylows, Hagrid, anything you know about them," she replied.
"Ah, well, yaknow they're a sort a' water demon 'n such, yeah? Gotta be careful when yer swimmin' in their habitats, their fingers 'r strong bu' fragile, good Revulsion Jinx'll push 'em off in a pinch."
"Oh, does that spell still work underwater?"
"Sure does, though it'll make a big ol' burst a' steam 'n boilin' water, 'steada th' usual sparks. So, yaknow, watch out fer where yer aimin', yeah?"
"Sounds good to me." Hagrid went on about them for the rest of the class, and Hazel learned more than she actually wanted to know, but it might come in handy later so whatever.
Lunch time that day was interesting. Flitwick summoned a plate of sandwiches from the kitchen and they ate while he explained the most useful spells for use in watery environments. "Obviously the Bubble-Head Charm is of paramount importance, both underwater and if you should find yourself faced with unclean air," he told her, pacing back and forth across the trestle. "It is not a charm we cover in fourth year, sadly, so you will have to seek outside coaching, but once you do learn it I'll be happy to make sure you've got it down pat!"
"Thank you, Professor," she replied, making notes. "I've learned already that the Revulsion Jinx is useful underwater?"
"Quite so! A faceful of boiling water will make anyone back off!" he laughed. "Spells that conjure fire tend to be rather useless, of course, unless one casts them strongly enough. Cutting and stinging jinxes usually work normally, as well."
When lunch was over she stood and thanked Flitwick before leaving, lots of notes in her notebook. During the week ahead she practiced in the Room of Requirement at every opportunity, using it as a vast cold pool where she could practice all the spells she had gathered so far. And when Cassius had time he showed her the Bubble-Head Charm, and like all charms she picked it up very quickly.
It wasn't until Transfiguration that week, coincidentally a Thursday and the first day of December, that she ran into any kind of snag. And it was quite the snag. The class was over, and as usual Hazel and Hermione were the only ones to make any real progress on the new spells they were taught. "Before the bell rings I wish to have a few words with you all," McGonagall called. "That means you too, Weasley, Longbottom."
"Sorry, ma'am," Neville called from the back of the room.
"Now then. The Yule Ball is approaching; it is a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an excellent opportunity to socialize with our foreign guests. It is only open to third year students and above, although a younger student may come at the invitation of someone older than them."
That was a relief, she wouldn't have any issue inviting Luna, Hazel realized.
A wave of whispered gossip was starting to break out, but McGonagall cleared her throat sharply and silence fell once more. "Dress robes are required, naturally. The ball will begin at eight o'clock in the evening on Christmas Day, and will finish at midnight in the Great Hall. That being said." She paused to look around, a particularly piercing look in her eyes. "The Yule Ball is a chance for everyone to let their hair down, as it is said, but this does NOT mean that you can act the fool and embarrass your House and the school."
Several students had to stifle giggles at the suggestion, and Hazel could see why. She wasn't sure she had ever seen McGonagall with her hair in anything but a severe bun at the back of her head.
The bell rang, and everyone got up to leave, scooping books into bags and heaving them onto shoulders. "Miss Potter, a word alone, if you please," McGonagall called above the noise.
Hazel waved her friends off and approached the desk. "Yes, Professor?"
"I presume you have never attended any sort of formal Wizarding ball or party?"
"Nothing so grand as a Yule Ball, though I've had dance and etiquette lessons," she replied.
"Good. They will be useful for you, as the Champions and their dance partners open the ball, by tradition."
"That doesn't sound so bad," she mused, thinking she'd just go ask Luna and make sure she knew how to dance. "Will it be a problem if I invite Luna Lovegood to open the Ball with me?"
"I doubt it, though I would make sure she knows the steps first," McGonagall replied. "Once upon a time the Tournament's sponsors would have insisted on a more traditional opening of the Ball; thankfully we are no longer so beholden to such interests."
"Old pureblood families, you mean?" Like Pansy's father, she reckoned, the type who only wanted strong sons with strong- ech, she was gonna make herself sick. "Okay, well, that doesn't sound so bad, I'll go see Luna as soon as I can, then."
"Good. Off you go." Hazel bowed and turned to leave, looking forward to the Ball.
She didn't catch up to Luna until dinner that evening, during which it was clear the Ball had overtaken all social considerations of the school. Girls were gossiping and giggling away, boys were looking shifty and awkward, everyone was eying up everyone else wondering who would be the first to ask for a partner. The firsties and second-years looked simultaneously scared out of their minds, and hurt at being excluded from the fun.
After everyone finished eating she had her chance, and found Luna surrounded by other Ravenclaws. "Hey Luna."
"Hazel!" Luna turned and hugged her tightly, and she hugged back. "I was just thinking about you."
"Oh yeah? Listen, I wanted to ask you out to the Ball with me."
The other Ravenclaw students giggled at that, and Luna sighed dreamily. "Go on then."
"Huh? Oh, right, um. Would you come to the Ball with me, Luna?"
"Sorry, I shouldn't," she replied in that same dreamy tone of voice, and the bottom fell out of Hazel's world. Had she really just said no?
"What? But, I thought we- who else am I gonna go with?"
"Silly, I can't dance that well," Luna explained, giggling again. "Plus I want to see you dancing with other girls. We can dance afterward though!"
"But-!"
"She said no, Potter, now shove off," someone said, and they were pulled apart. "Come on, Lovegood."
"L-Luna, wait!" Hazel tried to reach her again, but she was already walking off, though she glanced back and waved happily. "Luna!!"
Snape appeared from nowhere, and he didn't look happy. "Ten points from Slytherin for making a scene, Potter. Move along before you get detention, too."
She couldn't give a shit less about points right then, but she was too gobsmacked to argue so she went on downstairs, all too aware of the laughter and gossip around her. She couldn't believe Luna had said no! Who else would have asked her? Who was she actually going with? "This sucks," she muttered, filing into the common room behind the others.
"What sucks, Hazel?" Draco asked as they sat down at their usual spot.
"I asked Luna to the Ball with me and she said no," she muttered. "She wants to see me with other girls first, apparently."
"That sounds just like her," Pansy said as she sat down too. "Honestly, Potter, what do you see in her?"
"More than I see in you, Parkinson," Hazel shot back, cocking an eyebrow at her. "I figured you'd be more annoyed I was gonna wear purple to the Ball, anyway. Something something pureblood whatever, right?"
"Purple is hardly a good Slytherin color," she sniffed, "but at this point I'm fairly confident you won't disgrace us so badly anymore. Anyway, Draco, I wanted to talk to-"
"Hey Malfoy!" Daphne said suddenly, nearly falling into her chair and giggling fit to burst. "Let's go to the Yule Ball together!"
"A-Alright," he replied, looking bemused.
"Daphne, you bitch! I was about to ask him!" Pansy snarled.
"Sorry!" Daphne said, not sounding very sorry at all.
Hazel rolled her eyes. "Parkinson, you can dance, right? I might need some refresher courses before the Ball."
"I guess so, if it means keeping you from disgracing us," she allowed, still glaring at Daphne and Draco. "I'll have to include Bulstrode as well, she's worse on her feet than you are."
"Hey, I'm not that bad," Millicent cut in. Everyone jumped and stared, and she shrugged. "What? I've been here the whole time, you lot are just noisy."
"She's really not that bad," Hazel agreed, remembering their lessons a few years ago. "I've got a plan for the Task, so I just have to worry about this Ball thing, and finding a partner." She still couldn't believe Luna had turned her down…
Oh well, no use letting it get her down. She looked around the common room. "Daphne, is Tracey around here right now?"
"Hm? Oh yeah, she's right over there, asking out some third-year or other."
"Damn it. Hey Millicent, did you-?"
"No," the other girl replied quickly. "One, I'm already going with Blaise, and two, the thought of dating you is weird. No offense."
"It wouldn't be like that!" she protested, shivering slightly.
"What would be weird about dating Hazel?" Daphne asked curiously.
"She's basically my sister," Millicent explained. "How'd you feel about going out with Astoria?"
"Point taken."
Hazel shook her head. "We'd better hurry up, Parkinson, or we'll have to go to the Ball together."
"I'd sooner kiss a Quintaped," Pansy muttered darkly, drawing away from her. "Dancing with you just for lessons will be bad enough, imagine if we had an audience!"
"Yeah, can you imagine dancing with a scrawny little stick like her?" Hazel countered, rolling her eyes at the others. "Whatever, I've got shit to do." She gathered her things and stood up, leaving Pansy glaring in indignation and the others glancing uneasily at one another.
The next few days were among the more irritating she'd ever endured. Boys she hardly knew thought they could ask her to the Ball, and she was hardly subtle about turning them down; she'd seen the simpering, uncertain way other girls said no, had seen how that only encouraged the boys since they hadn't actually said 'no', and knew that wasn't for her.
Naturally word got around, and she found herself with a reputation for being rude and abrasive. For saying no and standing up for herself? It didn't help with asking girls out, since there wasn't any kind of universal signal for lesbians, and the first few girls she asked reacted rather badly. Which led her to assume that either her 'gaydar' was out of whack, or the girls she had asked were still in the closet.
Ugh, why couldn't Luna have said yes? This whole Ball thing would be a hell of a lot easier.
She found herself obsessing over the Ball, to her abrupt chagrin, wondering who would go with whom, which of the couples she observed would stick together or which of them would fall apart. Why couldn't this be easy?
Dancing lessons were acceptable, at least. McGonagall held small weekend seminars in ballroom dancing, mostly for the benefit of Muggleborns and clumsy purebloods, and Hazel found herself attending for the hell of it. She got a kick out of dancing with Hermione at least, and she could tell the other girl enjoyed herself too.
"So, has anyone asked you to the Ball yet?" Hazel asked at one point, as they twirled around.
"Er, yes, actually," Hermione admitted, turning slightly pink. "I was quite surprised, to be honest."
"Ooh, was it Ron? Or Neville?"
"No way, don't be stupid!" Hermione glared, and the pink hue spread. "Neville already asked Ginny, and Ron's like my brother. It'd be weird dancing with him!"
"Okay, I was just joking." The dance ended, and they bowed to each other and stepped off to the side. "So, who was it, then?"
"I- I can't say, I really can't," she stammered. "He wouldn't like it if I started gossiping about- about us."
"Fair enough."
And of course, she still made Pansy teach her to dance, later that evening. "You were at McGonagall's lessons, what do you need me for?" she complained.
"I wanna make sure you can dance too," Hazel retorted, dragging her to the center of the common room. "Yes, we're doing it here. Someone give us some music!"
Laughter rippled through the room, and sure enough a reedy tune began playing, some sort of slow waltz or other. It fit well enough, and after a few moments Pansy fell into the steps automatically. "This is stupid," she muttered, refusing to meet Hazel's eyes. "You dance fine! I dance fine! What in Merlin's name are we doing?"
"You haven't found a date for the Ball yet, have you?"
"Well, no, but no one's asked me yet! And a girl has to be asked!"
"Which is why you were so hot and bothered about Daphne asking Draco the other day, huh?"
"Shut up, cow." She stamped on Hazel's foot, but she had her boots on so it didn't do much good. "You haven't found a date either!"
"Nope." That bothered her a lot, but she wouldn't let on here. "I don't mind asking people though, it's stupid to play games about it and try to get someone to ask you first."
"Ugh." The song ended, and a faster one started playing. "Okay, we can both dance, let me go now!"
"Not a chance, Parkinson!"
Notes:Gold star for whoever guesses Hazel's date!
Chapter 38: PracticingSummary:Hazel practices lots of things for lots of events.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextEventually Pansy couldn't keep up, and Hazel had to let her go. "If only she was a little stronger," she remarked, going back to sit with her friends.
"No one's as strong as you are, Hazel," Daphne replied, playing with Draco's tie. Ever since she had asked him to the Ball, they had been openly affectionate with each other. Which seemed odd to Hazel, since to her knowledge they had never before shown any particular interest in each other?
"That's not true, Millicent is stronger than I am," she protested.
"Okay, no one who isn't freakishly huge is as strong as you are," Daphne corrected easily. "Seriously, I bet you could carry Draco over your shoulder like it was nothing!"
"Hey, leave me out of this!" Draco protested lamely. "Why were you pushing her to dance with you anyway?"
"I could tell she was enjoying it, when she wasn't being stupid about it," Hazel replied. "All she really wants is to be led around, right?"
"You think maybe she's into girls and just not willing to admit it?" Daphne asked. "Considering the pressure her father's put her under, and all."
"I wouldn't be surprised." Now she wondered if maybe they could save Pansy from herself. She was still a little scrawny, even if she was improving from the beginning of the year. The bigger problem was her father, of course, during the holidays they wouldn't have any way of helping her. "We probably shouldn't gossip about that though, who knows who might hear us?"
After a few moments, Daphne stood up. "Come on, we should check on her. I saw her headed for the dorms." Hazel got up too, and together they went to their dorms. Daphne pushed the door open and went on in. "Pansy? Pansy, you in here?"
"What?" she called out, from inside her closed off bed curtains.
"We were just worried about you, that's all," Hazel said, stepping in and closing the door behind her. "I didn't push you too hard, did I?"
"Sort of, but… but I probably needed it, so whatever." The curtains shifted and she appeared, dressed in pajamas. "Um, thanks, I guess, for that."
"Sure." She wasn't nearly the stick-thin figure she had been at the start of term, but Hazel thought she still had a ways to go. "Whoever you wind up going with, you're gonna knock 'em dead out on the floor!"
"W-Whatever."
"Pansy, you know it's okay, right?" Daphne said, going over to sit next to her. "Hazel's a lesbian, Tracey and I are bisexual, I'm pretty sure Millicent swings both ways too."
Pansy shivered slightly and looked miserable. "I know, it's fine for you guys, but my father-"
"-is a pureblood supremacist weirdo who wants you to drop out and be a good little breeder," Hazel cut in harshly. "Fuck that! You don't have to do what he wants, you can be your own person."
"But I'm an only child!" she cried, hiding her face. "And he's too old to have more kids!"
"Men are never too old to have kids," Hazel replied. "You're still into boys, though, aren't you?"
"I am, I really am!" Pansy replied hastily.
"Okay then, if he wants kids so much, push a couple out and leave them on his doorstep! Or tell him to fuck off and find a younger mistress already!"
"I can't tell my father to fuck off," she retorted. "I'll be fine, alright? I'm an only child, he can't push me too hard."
"You'll leave if he does, right?" Daphne put in.
At that point Hazel checked out of the conversation and set about getting ready for bed. It was still early yet, but most of her homework was taken care of, and she could use the extra time to push herself harder during her workout.
Tracey and Millicent came in while she was doing pull ups off her broom. "My favorite part of the night," Tracey teased, "watching our hot dormmate work out."
"Don't you work out too, Millicent?" Hazel asked, pausing her reps to look over at the other girl.
"Sure, but not where everyone can see." There was a scowl on her face, directed at Pansy, and Hazel sensed a little jealousy. She wasn't ashamed of her figure, was she?
Abruptly she had an idea. "Pansy, I want you to sit with Millicent at meals from now on," she called across the room. "I think you could influence each other in a good way." Pansy scowled and Millicent shrugged, and as far as Hazel was concerned, that was that.
The next day she went to see McGonagall after classes. "Professor? I had a question, if you've got a moment."
"What is it, Miss Potter?" she replied, looking up from her papers.
"I was wondering if there's a particular spell that could, like, turn socks or stockings into flippers? Or something?" Hazel asked, feigning hesitancy.
McGonagall sighed. "I'm sorry, Potter, but as your teacher it would be highly improper of me to help you directly."
"Oh. I understand."
"It would also be improper of me to explain that such a spell could be found on pages 325 to 334 of your Intermediate Transfiguration textbook," she went on. "Highly improper, Miss Potter, you must understand."
"Huh? Oh, of course, Professor, I understand completely. Thank you anyway, I really wish you could help me."
"I'm terribly sorry, but the rules are the rules." Was it her imagination, or did McGonagall just wink at her? "Run along now, Miss Potter."
"Yes ma'am." She bowed and left the room, wondering why the subterfuge was necessary.
That evening at dinner, Hazel and everyone else was distracted by the arrival of several owls, each carrying a newspaper. "Is that the Evening Prophet?" she asked, and sure enough one of them landed before her. She put a few Knuts in its pouch and opened the paper. "Oh wow."
BODY OF BERTHA JORKINS LOCATED IN MALFOY MANOR! the headline screamed, above a blurred-out image. She jabbed Draco in the side to get his attention, and spread the paper out.
Ministry hit wizards and Aurors were executing a search warrant on the sprawling property of Lord Lucius Malfoy earlier today, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent,one of many that have been approved as a result of the divorce proceedings our readers are well familiar with by now. They broke into a room that had not yet been searched, and the sight that met their eyes was most horrific!
I hesitate to bring gory details to innocent eyes and ears, but in the interest of breaking news we must press onward. Bertha Jorkins, a long-time Ministry employee, was found sprawled across the floor of the small room, quite dead and gruesomely preserved! A preliminary medical survey suggested complications from childbirth were the cause of death; sources within the Ministry assured this reporter that a proper, in-depth autopsy will be performed quite soon.
Our readers will recall ongoing Ministry malfeasance that has plagued this good nation of ours all year, from the massacre at the Quidditch World Cup to the botched beginnings of the Triwizard Tournament, still ongoing at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Can the Fudge administration withstand yet another scandal involving one of its wealthiest donors and enablers?
Lord Malfoy, naturally, could not be reached for comment. On the other hand, Lady Narcissa Malfoy had the following statement to make: "I shouldn't be surprised, of course, that a dead body was found on my estranged husband's property. But, childbirth? How medieval! Rest assured my lawyers will be pressuring the Ministry to investigate these matters thoroughly. I also implore my son and his friends to dismiss these affairs and focus on their schoolwork."
Young Master Draco, if you are reading these words, our thoughts are with you in these trying times for your family. And with your friends, of course, especially Hazel Potter, the Girl Who Lived.
To reveal the image above, tap it with your wand and say "Claritas!" Readers are warned it is not for the young or the faint of heart.
Hazel tapped the image as directed, and gagged at the sight. Whether it was Bertha or not she couldn't say, but it was definitely a woman, and she had definitely been cut open. Though, why did they bother preserving the body? Did they want her to be found? Was it some consequence of the magicks they had subjected her to? Why didn't they destroy it when they were done?
"That's disgusting," Draco muttered. "Especially knowing what really happened to her."
"Yeah." She took a moment to focus her Occlumency and get the disgust down, then put the paper away so she could finish eating. Obviously there was a lot of talk about the article, and she did her best to ignore it.
The rest of the week went by in a blur, of practicing for the Task and of trying to find a partner for the Ball. Practice went very well; the flipper spell wasn't hard, and casting spells underwater was simply a matter of figuring out which ones still worked. Finding a date went rather badly, as she was still being turned down, and boys were still trying to ask her.
It was a relief when Saturday came and she could go down to the pitch for some practice. But someone else had the same idea. "Potter?" the thickly-accented voice of Viktor Krum called. She looked around questioningly; he was already at the pitch, in simple gray Quidditch robes, clutching his broom in one hand. "I had hoped to meet you here."
"What's up, Krum?" she asked neutrally, glancing at her teammates for a second.
"Everyone says you and Diggory are the best fliers of Hogwarts," he went on, awkward but determined. "I was hoping for a race."
That was a surprise. She cocked an eyebrow in disbelief at him, and he flushed and looked away. "If you don't want to, just-"
"What kind of race?" she asked, cutting him off. "My team and I were about to practice."
"We don't mind waiting," Draco said quickly, and the others agreed.
"If we race I will teach you some Seeker moves," Krum added. "Win or lose."
Oh, well, that was alright. "Alright," she allowed. "Let's do this at the training grounds then, there's an obstacle course that'll make things more interesting." She paused to glare at her team. "You guys stay here and practice. Captain's orders!"
She was met by a chorus of boos, but no one followed her and Krum back to the training grounds, at least. She pointed out the obstacle course, a series of hoops and poles that circled the area. "Fly through each hoop, do a roll or a flip around each pole. Usually at Hogwarts we have each racer do a maneuver between the hoops and poles. Contact is allowed, but don't deliberately try to knock your opponent off their broom."
"This seems like you'd need a, ah, what's the word… A judge?" Krum asked, surveying the course.
"You mean a referee?" Hazel looked around, saw some familiar figures at the training dummies. "That looks like Cedric and Fleur, let's go say hi."
Krum shrugged, so they went over to the other two Champions. "Hey guys."
"Oh hi, Hazel, Viktor." Cedric lowered his wand and nodded. He saw their brooms and grinned. "Gonna race each other, huh?"
"Yes, but we need a judge. Well, referee, I guess is the word," Krum added.
"If Fleur doesn't mind I can judge the race for you when we're done practicing here, how's that sound?" he replied, glancing at the other girl, who shrugged.
"If we're practicing spells I'm gonna join you," Hazel decided, leaning her broom against the wall and shrugging her outer cloak off to stand before a dummy. "I could use the practice anyway!"
Notes:This week was awful. Who else had a bad week?