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Chapter Text

There were clear skies on the day that we left, which we took for a bad sign. Really, it was Principal Orange that took it for one, because how on earth were we supposed to leave if the Mugg- non-magical people- could see us? I’m not supposed to use that word. Muggle. My mom says that it’s a racial slur and has started a campaign against it. She says that it isn’t right to live among people and think that you’re better than them, which is what the use of that word encourages. Besides, magic is a gift like anything else, like clear skin or musical talent. It has nothing to do with you.

Besides, as the state representative for Nebraska, who would she be if she thought that she was better than any of them? That’s my mom for you. She’s state Representative for Nebraska in two governments. Non-Magical and Magical. That’s usually the way. If you’re a wizard in politics that is.

She’s encouraged me to use the word non-magical beings at school, and now, thanks to her campaign, it isn’t exactly PC to say the word Muggle. At least not in polite company. At least not in America.

They say that Britain will be different. They’re quite elitist there, and my mother was very worried that I’d come back with a stupid accent and a taste for tea. She said that to distract herself from worrying about everything else. After what happened last year, well, my mom hardly wanted me going at all.

But I wanted to go to represent my school. I mean, I was one of the few chosen, you know? Principal Orange calls us her “Crack Team.” Seven seventh years, top in our subjects. We’ll be the only one entering the Tournament.

They revived the Triwizard Tournament in the 90’s, and it’s been running ever since. During the war it was a smaller affair, held in countries that had no part in it. Salem went to the 2002 one in South Africa. We lost.

Did you know that only seventeen women have ever won the Triwizard Tournament in its history? Did you know that one of them came from Salem Academy for Young Witches? Only one, in our thousand year history, which upsets Principal Orange to no end. The only All Witch Academy in the world, and we haven’t won a single Triwizard Tournament. Haven’t had any Dark Wizards come out of here to try to take over the world either but the Triwizard tournament seems to sting a little more with Principal Orange.

Thus the Crack Team.

She smiled at us then, her jeweled caps winking at us in the sunlight. It’s the only concession she makes to Wizarding Fashion, since the rest of her could look like any other woman in America. She’s a tall lady, sturdy and corn fed with light lines around her eyes that sometimes disappear for a few months. We suspect a Elasticizing Charm, but nobody can be sure.

There are dozens of cameramen that are lining up in a press line to take pictures of us. Their cameras are puffing purple smoke and they’re screaming our names.

“Girls.” Principal Orange snaps her fingers at us. We stand at attention. Weird, since Salem is such a liberal artsy fartsy place. But anyway.

She steeples her fingers and tries to talk while smiling for the cameras. Doesn’t work well. She looks like the Cheshire Cat.

“I have chosen the best of the best to represent our school. Each of you has it in you to be champions. I want you all to know that you have an edge on these people – you are a team. You are each other’s support networks, and you will work together to be certain that we prevail. Remember: Innovate, Imagine, Excellence.” It’s a motto that she made up herself. I think our real one just means : Don’t die out there. It’s something in Latin. You’d have to ask Ina.

We pose for the cameras and Orange answers a few more questions. We watch the boys on the other side of the stream.

Salem Witches Academy and Massachusetts Institute For Warlocks are the two finest schools in America, and are among the top five in the world. Originally founded by a coven in the 1600s, Salem came first, as we like to say. Fifty years later, MIW followed. We like to say that they’re fifty years behind. Salem is one of the most innovative schools in the world, mostly because we’re all witches. There are no men here, only women, even the professors. And those who identify as female, who are obviously women as well. We’ve had a few transfers from MIW, including one of the Crack Team.

It’s quite nice being across from an all boys’ school, because we do get to play against them at Quiddich and have Prom with them. The river that seperates us is impassable except for Saturdays, when an old ghost named Sam can take you across in his rowboat. If you like a guy from MIW then you have to either try to yell at each other across the river or get one of the selkies to deliver a message. They don’t really support mingling at Salem and MIW. Not if it gets in the way of studies.

Alongside the regular subjects, we teach things like Spell Invention and Job Interviewing and Magical Code Breaking. Plus we have incredible alumni and a world class Muggle Studies program. Thanks to my mom, it’s non-magical studies.

At Salem, our non magical studies is unparalled, mostly because we feel that non magical beings make up most of the world, and it’s hard to hide from it. And if you are ignorant of the non magical world, then you run the risk of being exposed. Which is why Non Magical Studies is compolsury, even if you have a non magical family. It’s easy to stick your head in the sand at Salem.

Since first year, we are forced to troop into town and go to the library, use toasters and roller skates, and are encouraged to play with non magical children. We learn about pop culture and texting and all that good stuff. We’re taught not to be afraid of them, as some wizards are.

Only a couple of decades ago, the feeling towards non-magical beings in America was much the same as it has been all over the world – people believe that non-magical people are inferior, and there was a ton of regulation in place to try to stop wizards and non magical people from intermixing. But after the Wizarding Wars in Europe, we thought that it was so stupid. We were basically inheriting old prejudices and perpetuating a cycle that hurt everyone. Why not share our magic with the world? Or course, that didn’t go well at the Worldwide Wizarding Summits, and we were not allowed to repeal some of our legislation on Non Magical Relations. Nobody wants to be revealed.

However, a lot more wizards are intermarrying, and a lot of wizards are taking jobs in the non magical world. Doctors, lawyers, politicians, engineers, writers, singers, everybody is helping to build bridges and find cures and work on our country together. My mom, actually has been instrumental in that, past few years. You may have heard of her. Gina Towers, single mom to only daughter Tansy Towers. Hard Worker, healthy eater, Harvard educated, and she wants to help YOU, Nebraska! You probably voted for her.

But what really pushes us over the edge is the Hepzibah Underwood Program, which is a program that shows us how to blend in with non magical folk. It was started by Hepzibah Underwood, obviously, one of the founders that decided that it was important not to block yourself off from magical beings. It’s a series of tests that are much like our Standards (Tests you have to take in your third, fifth, and seventh years). They are all about culture and stuff. In sixth year, you go for two months to a real Non magical high school, and you get an identity and must keep to it. It’s just to see if you can keep it up without revealing yourself. If you do then you’re actually in a lot of legal trouble.

At the beginning of your sixth year, you can choose to apply for a Tupple Scholarship as well. It means that you get to spend a whole year having a non magical life, and it’s so prestigious. Seriously, the people that get it usually end up doing so well for themselves post grad. I was one of the ones that got it last year, mostly because of my mom, I think. My best friends and I got it, and, well, long story short we nearly caused the mass reveal of the magical world. Upshot of it is that I have terrible taste in men. Don’t worry, though, we fixed it. Secret’s safe and the guy is in upstate New York in a mental hospital. As a result, the three of us were given loads of awards and we’re semi famous now.

Which is part of the reason why we have the cameras. Mostly though, it’s because of Hogwarts.

It seems like the magical world in the UK doesn’t have much else to do besides report on the happenings of their local school, which is why so many of the reporters keep calling us “Love” and telling us to turn to the side in their rough British accents. They’re wearing robes, which is awkward. Salem doesn’t wear robes because they’re conspicuous, outdated, and they set on fire too easily.

Orange tried to take them on a tour of the Quiddich Grove and the Creature Cove, where we happen to have a real dragon. His name is Ted and he has a cold right now. They don’t care. It’s all about how we feel. And about the Potters.

Not like we care, but the only reason why we’re getting this kind of attention (Besides our semi-fame) is because of the Potters. This is the first time since 1994 that Hogwarts is participating in the Triwizard, and unfortunately, since all of these war heroes had a lot of children, there seems to be a ton of eligible spawn at Hogwarts. And Beauxbatons, apparently. They are our other opponents, though nobody cares as much.

If one of the Potters wins, then it would be something historic and significant and annoying. There’s always been too much press about Hogwarts. Too much pomp. Which is why Orange has assembled a crack team this year. The seven of us are supposed to take them down.

The cameras flash once more, and Orange decides that it’s enough.

“Girls.” She flicks her wand and a large car pulls up. Red white and blue spangled. It looks ridiculous.

“Our ride’s here.”

And with a last flash of the cameras, we slide in and make our way skyward.

Chapter Text

Keiko’s forgotten something. Orange takes it as a sign that Something Will Go Wrong.

Right.

We neglect to mention to her that the only thing that Keiko’s forgotten is to write a letter to her boyfriend. She immediately starts scribbling one out in the car seat. The thing about Keiko’s boyfriend is that he thinks her name is Samantha and that she goes to reform school. Also that she is a blonde.

Keiko met Ryan last year, and they became smitten. Smitten enough to continue their relationship over the summer and into this year, which is a huge no no. After our abrupt departure from Canterdale High, which we all blamed on reform school, Keiko and Ryan kept in touch. By e-mail mostly. We are encouraged to have pen pals at Salem, not only to improve our language skills but to promote fellowship and junk. So Keiko just pretended that Ryan was some friend teaching her Mermish or Portuguese or something. They’ve snuck out to meet, Ryan taking the train to Boston and her Apparating. It’s gone on like that all summer. And when she visited my mom’s house in Nebraska? I didn’t see her for three weeks. It was all Ryan, all the time. Made me sick.

Well, not really. I was just bitter about it.

Because of the distance and the lack of technology in Scotland, Keiko and Ryan are going a different route. Letter writing. Basically, they send letters through Keiko’s mom. Keiko owls her and her mom forwards the letter on. Because of this, they’ve developed a code, which means that Keiko is giggling like an idiot all the time over an expression like “I put away the Oatmeal on the top shelf when I got home.” I don’t even know.

Orange raps the dashboard to get us all to pay attention.

“Girls. I have chosen the seven of you to be our representatives not only because you are the top students, but because you have the aptitude to win this thing. Your skills in your subjects will come in useful, and we will need to combine them together, like the perfect potion.” Orange was on a rant, and I wasn’t going to listen to her.

Orange had picked the top seven students, and between us, we dominated the subjects. Orange had started training us since the start of summer, setting us with harder and harder spells and potions, quizzing us on trivia, and forcing us to learn about the schools that we would be facing and the history of the Tournament itself.

“-distractions. We are not here for fellowship. We are not here for romance. We are here to win.” Orange was getting that look in her eye again.

“Which is why you will be clearing your minds of anything but the Tournament. No boyfriends, no girlfriends, no anything else. We are here to dazzle, and we are here to win. Yes?” We nodded.

I like to think that we were there to make friends, but, well, we’ve heard enough about Hogwarts to know that they aren’t the sort to make friends. I have a great uncle, you see, who went to Hogwarts and he is without a doubt the most pretentious man I have ever met in my life. He told me about Hogwarts when we were deciding what school I should go to when I turned eleven. Did you know that they divide all of the students up at Hogwarts according to their character traits? At eleven? And apparently one house is nicknamed the “Leftover House” which is abominable. That does not promote self-esteem at all, does it?

Salem has no houses, we are separated by grade level, but we’re allowed to mix with older and younger students whenever we wish. It promotes Salem’s beliefs that nobody is more important than anybody, and we all have something to teach, and something to learn.

Which is why our bags are stuffed with candies and letters of encouragement from the girls of Salem and the boys across the river. Ever since the seven of us were announced, we’ve gotten nothing but help from our schoolmates, which is the way that Salem rolls.

The seven of us were nominated by our teachers, and approved by Principal Orange. Not coincidentally, we were all the top in our subjects, or our “specialties” as she called us. If any one of us is chosen, she believes that each of us would be able to take on the horrors that await us. But of course she wasn’t taking any chances.

We’ve been training for this for a long time. Aside from the magical parts of the Triwizard Tournament, much of it is about nerve and quick thinking. And research. We’ve been researching old Triwizard Tournaments, looking for patterns in the challenges, and trying to solve them on our own. Orange has also had us training physically, in swimming, flying, and running, which is why some of the girls in the car look a little slimmer than they did this time last year.

In agreeing to do this, we won’t sit our exams for another full year, simply because we’ll be dedicating all of our time to the Tournament, either being the champion or helping her along. We’re not particularly fussed about that, because it’ll mean that we have another year to look for a job or to apply for university, which is always good. Plus it looks amazing on an application, let me tell you.

I nudged Ina, who had fallen asleep over her history notes. “How long?”

She shook her head drowsily.

“No idea.”

“Fifty nine minutes.” Emily Whitehouse snapped her pocket watch shut and smiled at us in a way that made me sick. I will never understand why Emily Whitehouse was chosen. She is the absolute Worst Person in the World, and she’s made it perfectly clear she feels the same way about me.

“I didn’t ask you, WhiteHEAD.” I know that’s childish, but I hate Emily Whitehouse. Her hand flew up to her cheeks unconsciously. Emily Whitehouse used to have a great problem with zits, until she discovered Vanishing Cream fourth year.

If it was fifty nine minutes, then why were we landing? And in the middle of a forest?

We landed in a clearing, a little bumpy.

Principal Orange clapped her hands.

“We are making an entrance, ladies. I expect you know that our viability as a school will be judged by our entrance into the games, yes? Don’t expect the other schools to be lazy about it.” I’d forgotten about this.

We were handed around our costumes and told to put them on.

***

“We look stupid.” Keiko shouted above the wind.

She was spot on with that one.

The costumes had been something of a debate. First we had thought to just wear the traditional black dresses and black hats and fly in on broomsticks, since Salem was where that particular image of witches had ben made public. But apparently it wasn’t impressive enough, so it was nixed fairly early. Then we thought about wearing costumes that represented various parts of the USA, but it seemed too Hunger Games, so that was also rejected. Finally, we just decided to represent the country in general.

So we were wearing red, white, and blue striped dresses with charmed stars braided into our hair. They glittered and glowed, casting everyone’s face in a particularly attractive light. Over the gowns we wore bomber jackets with SALEM printed on the back and our native states written under it. We couldn’t write our real nicknames underneath it, of course. It’d give too much away.

We’d been chosen specifically, as I have said. We make up the Crack Team for different reasons, reasons that Orange outlined for us after we had all been complaining about each other one time during training.

Firstly, I, Tansy Towers was chosen because of my “heroics” last year (like sending a boy to a mental institution was heroics, but at least it preserved the International Statute for Security.) I am top in Muggle Studies and Transfiguration, and I’m referred to as the Spy. This is because I’m able to maintain a public persona as the daughter of a political figure and be a witch. I can also get along with pretty much anybody, and I’m an excellent eavesdropper. People think I’m innocent and trustworthy, and well, I let them think that. Basically, I’m quite good at blending in. I’ll be useful to figure out what the other teams are up to.

Next there’s my best friend Keiko Tran. She’s absolutely fearless. I mean, she’s the most talented witch in our year, and she’s good at nearly everything. But she does let her emotions run pretty hot sometimes, which gets her into trouble. She’s best at Care Of Magical Creatures and Charms, both of which have been proven to be some of the most useful subjects in the Triwizard Tournament. She has a way with creatures. We all figure her for Champion.

Ina Eriksson is my other best friend, and she’s the absolute opposite of Keiko. I don’t mean that she’s not talented, she is. But she’s tall and level headed where Keiko’s compact and temperamental. She’s thoughtful and pragmatic where I’m a bit over talkative sometimes. She’s less observant than the rest of us are, more in her own world. She’s very Nordic looking, courtesy of her Swedish father. But she’s brilliant, and everybody likes her. She’s an amazing researcher, and most of what we know about the other schools has been because of her. She’s best at History Of Magic, and, surprisingly, DADA. She says that’s mostly research, though. We call her the Historian.

I’ve talked about Emily Whitehead, so I suppose I’ll describe her. She was runner up for the Tupple scholarship last year and she’s never quite gotten over it, I don’t think. We’ve sort of been rivals since the beginning. Her father worked for my mother and I think she fired him, so that’s where it all started. This was years and years ago of course. She’s been trying to sabotage us ever since. She’s best at Ancient Runes and Astronomy, both useless for the Triwizard Tournament, but Ina reminded us that codes and riddles are a hugely important component to the Triwizard Tournament, and Emily would be incredibly useful to that. Also she was good with languages. So we called her the Codebreaker and left it at that.

Reese Jackson is our People Person. She’s really good at reading other people, and she honestly has the best people skills I’ve ever seen. She’s also a complete busybody, and a total gossip. However, this will actually come in handy this year, given the fact that we’re going to need to ingratiate ourselves with our competitors. Excellent mediator, that one. She’s tops in People Skills (yes, it’s a real class), Herbology, and Divination. Good at dancing too, weirdly enough. She’s the Liason.

Pia Palafox was the Quiddich Captain, and she never let you forget it. Truthfully, she is the top flier in the school, and she’s one of the top fliers in the country. She’s played every position on our school’s team, and she wants to play pro. Great at Potions too, mostly because she gets so many injuries and needs to fix herself up. We call her the Healer.

Last of course, is Loony Lex. That’s uncharitable thing to say, but, well, that’s what everyone calls her. Alexandra Logan, or Lex, is an absolute nutter. She’s a genius, according to our teachers, but everyone knows that she’s a nutter. She never talks to anyone, keeps to herself entirely, and is always going off somewhere by herself only to come back with her face half blue or her eyebrows singed. She’s best in spell invention, only because she spends all of her time at it. She’s invented some great hexes, though. She’s a proper Duellist as well, mostly because everyone’s too scared to hex her properly. She’s good in Arithmancy too, and can break codes with the best of them. We call her the Mad Scientist, though not to her face.

We were nearly there, Orange shouted over the wind. I revved the engine.

At the stop that we had made, we were all given red, white, and blue spangled motorcycles that, apparently, had been charmed to fly. They were wicked fast, and blew the orange and white smoke that were our school colors. That’s what we were riding into Hogwarts.

We were going in formation, and we had a whole entrance planned out. It was going to be brilliant.

Somebody gasped, and I knew we were there.

The castle itself was tall, the turrets seemed to scrape the sky. It was old looking though, like they’d never thought about remodeling. The grounds were expansive, and Ina told us that there was a giant squid in the lake, which we gathered from the giant tentacles that were waving at us lazily. Little black dots were on the ground in perfectly neat rows, and they must be the students.

“Ready?” Pia shouted over the wind. We were

Keiko flicked her wand and music started. It was a selection of “American Songs”, from Elvis to Miley Cyrus. I flicked my wand and the clouds started making shapes, introducing every one of us.

We started downward, flipping and kicking up, doing wheelies in the air in order to impress. We landed in a shower of red white and blue glitter, fireworks in the air. Reese had choreographed a dance for us, and we started twirling around to start it.

Unfortunatley, Reese hadn’t accounted for the fact that we were incredibly clumsy in these dresses. So as Ina twirled, she got her dress caught on one of the motorcycles, and tripped. The motorcycles fell against each other.

Luckily, somebody thought to flick their wands and make all of our dresses into shorts. Then Reese backflipped over all of the motorcycles very impressively, and I turned them all into eagles. So there was no harm done.

The Headmaster, the Neville Longbottom of Legend, came to greet us. The Beauxbatons Representation, he said, would be there tomorrow night. Everybody applauded us, and they seemed impressed. Everyone, except for this one guy. He sniggered as Ina passed him, and she blushed very hard.

Prick.

Chapter Text

Immediate tension when we went inside the Great Hall. It’d be impressive if we hadn’t been made to read Hogwarts, A History like twenty times.

“Really, simple Floating Charm. It’s not even difficult.” Emily Whitehouse is sniffing away the candles, which I sort of agree with but I’m not going to tell her that. It does have a nice affect, this whole Hogwarts thing. They separate into houses, which doesn’t encourage separatism and bullying at all. Ha.

“Gryffindor- brave, Ravenclaw- smart, Slytherin-evil, Hufflepuff- the rest.” Ina whispers under her breath to all of us as we make our way in. Not like we don’t know. And not like it isn’t offensive to delegate two houses as evil and “the rest.” What is that? These Hogwarts people are just setting up wars, aren’t they? No wonder Voldemort was so evil. I mean, he told that from eleven! Maybe the whole Wizarding Wars thing was latent resentment that he wasn’t picked for Gryffindor.

It seems like the entire hall is holding their breath waiting for us to choose.

“Split up.” Orange says out the side of her mouth, heading to the staff table. Makes sense. Keeps them guessing.

Keiko plunks down at the Gryffindor table, and immediately makes friends with her fellow show offs. Not that I don’t love Keiko but the girl loves a crowd. She’s fitting right in. Pia joins her and gets in with the jocks.

Reese slips over to Slytherin alone, whispering that it was probably best to get them to trust her. She is our only people person. Well, not true. Keiko and Pia can cavort with their kinds, and Ina and I are all right. Even Emily.

It’s Lex we’re worried about. She’s sleeping at the end of the Ravenclaw table, and it’s probably best to leave her there. She’s most pleasant that way. Emily’s also at the center of the table, enjoying the attentions of her fellow smarties.

Ina and I are left standing. Well, not for long. Actually it’s just me.

They were all still staring at me when somebody grabbed the back of my jacket and set me down. Ina.

And we’re sitting at the Reject table.

“It’s not really the reject table. Helga Hufflepuff wanted to educate everybody, regardless of their qualities. She valued hard work, fair play, kindness, and respect. She understood that people need time to grow into themselves, and who we are at eleven isn’t what we always become. The House system is problematic, I grant you. But Hufflepuff isn’t as bad as they say.” Apparently I said that out loud. Apparently a Hufflepuff heard me.

Long red hair, dark brown eyes. Scarred cheek. I’ve seen her on magazines.

“Another Weasley, I know. Lucy Weasley. You’d only see me in the big spreads that they do in Witch Weekly. With my family. ” Lucy Weasley stuck out her hand to me and I took it. Then to Ina.

“Nice to meet you two. Everybody’s been massively excited for the Triwizard Tournament. Crazy. My Dad had just graduated from Hogwarts when they did it here last. He managed it, and well, it didn’t turn out so well for him he got fired but that was only because a Death Eater was controlling his dead boss and he didn’t realize. To be fair, though, he was only eighteen. And a bit of a prat back then.” She smiled at us again.

“Wow. Everybody was excited to meet your family when we came. Y’all are famous.” She shrugged, tapping her fork against her empty plate. Somebody was up at the front speechifying.

“Mostly my uncles and aunts. If you wanted to see some really impressive Weasley-Potters, you’d have to look elsewhere. I’m the only one of us in Hufflepuff. Well, there was also my cousin Teddy, but he’s not really my cousin. And he graduated ages ago anyhow.” Already loving Hufflepuff, if Lucy Weasley is a representative.

“And you’re famous too.” No. I was hoping that that hadn’t made its way across the pond. Evidently I hope in vain.

“You guys saved magic. Like, the whole Statue of Secrecy would be blown if you guys hadn’t stepped in to save the day.” Oh, fantastic. Now I can sit around feeling like a total fraud. Ina doesn’t make eye contact with me. She knows the only reason magic needed saving was because I screwed it up.

“Yup.” Lucy Weasley is a nice girl but she really needs to work on her social cues. She keeps going on and on about what we did, and she noticed our medals that Orange made us wear. She wants to try it on.

I’ve decided to ignore her and listen to the Headmaster. Now, there’s somebody I like a lot. Neville Longbottom. He is known as The Reformer, because he’s put an end to so much of the crap that was going on in Hogwarts in his day. Evaluations for the professors, a counseling program, and a ton of provisions to prevent bullying. Apparently his time at Hogwarts wasn’t the best, and he’d been mercilessly tormented by both students and teachers, with no help at all. I really admire him. Also, he has a great sense of humor. When Rita Skeeter wrote an article about him and his wife drinking too much, he signed a deal to be the spokesperson for Firewhiskey. Honestly, though, if anyone has the right to an extra drink, it’s Neville Longbottom. He’s most of the reason why I wanted to come to Hogwarts in the first place.

Finally the speeches stop and food appears in the empty tureens. Meat, meat, and more meat.

“Good luck to vegans at Hogwarts.” I mutter. I wonder how Keiko’s faring. She hasn’t eaten meat since she was six. Her plate’s piled with carrots and ketchup. Guess I’ll be having the same. My mom and I don’t eat a lot of meat. It’s hard to know what’s been raised well, and to be honest, if you spend time raising animals (like we do) it’s sort of hard to eat the cow you named Dipsy after your favorite Tellytubby.

There’s some American stuff too, as Lucy so helpfully points out. It’s not real American stuff. Bunless Hamburgers and a bowl of Hot Cheetos. I don’t know who they’re talking to, but that’s not American cuisine.

Yet now I want Hot Cheetos. But that’d only prove them right.

A piece of sausage flicks past my ear. At first I think it’s an accident, but apparently it has intent, as about three more hit my hair and neck. Where are the bullying provisions now, Longbottom?

It’s that gooney idiot that laughed at Ina. He has nothing to say, but only wants to get a reaction out of us. Grand. Really representing your school there, pal.

“Sorry.” Lucy murmurs. “He never knows when to quit, does he?” Another sausage comes sailing at my head. Shield Charm should fix that.

Nope. Two more.

“Who is that guy?” Lucy shoves a piece of ham in her mouth.

“My cousin. James. He’s a seventh year too. He likes to prank and stuff. It’s really annoying, his Mum keeps telling him that he’s too old for it. But he’s always acting like an eight year old. Guess he’s picked you as his latest victim. Or, well, he’s always going off on Hufflepuff. Minor annoyances, really. He saves all the nasty stuff for Slytherin.”

“Why? I mean, what’s the problem with Slytherin?” Lucy shrugs.

“Nothing. It’s just James is apparently just like his grandfather. James Potter. Inheriting old prejudices. Little annoying for his parents really, because he hasn’t yet grown up. “

“Prejudices from the seventies. I mean, it’s the twenties. That was fifty years ago. Let it go.” Ina give me a look again, mostly for the Frozen reference. What can I say? I have a weakness for old movies.

“Old habits die hard, I guess.” Turning around, I see them. Oh yeah. They look like the people in the high school movies. The ones you hate. James is at the center, and sitting around him are clearly his disciples, all super hot and guffawing at some stupid crack he just made.

James Potter looks like old pictures of his father, but sort of different. He’s broader built, with high cheekbones and dark eyes. He’s a prefect because of course, nepotism. The rest usually bear a passing resemblance to him, except for some of the lesser blonde people.

“Most of my cousins. Fred, James, Dom, my sister Molly, and the Trio.” Sitting at the edge of the group is someone who must be James’ brother. He ‘s the one that really looks like Harry Potter, sans scar. He’s wearing square framed glasses, and he’s too tall for how much he weighs. Looks like someone did a stretching charm on him. He’s sitting next to a girl with bushy red hair smoothed back into a bun, reading a book. But it’s the girl between them that’s really the most interesting.

She’s one of those people who if they walk into a room, you know. Shiny black hair straight to her waist, bundled back in a braid with gold cords woven into it, a heart shaped face with slashing cheekbones. Distressingly pretty.

And she wasn’t wearing a uniform. Instead, she had an embroidered gold jacket over a green velvet dress with checkered tights and heels. Twisting earrings jingled against her necklaces, which looked maddeningly expensive.

She leaned over and whispered to the two, who I recognized as Rose Weasley and Albus Potter.

“Ariana Wood. Ari. She’s practically family. Their family’s always at our house for Christmas, and everybody’s run away to the Wood’s house when they got too pissed at their parents.”

Wood. Wood. I know that name.

“Oliver Wood. He owns like half the league’s teams.” I’d care if I cared about Quiddich. “Her mum’s more famous though. Victoria Locke?” Yes. Okay. Yes. I can see it now.

Victoria Locke is famous as I don’t know what. She’s like in her forties now, but basically, she’s still famous as I don’t know what. I said that already.

She’s a singer, a really great one. Think Beyoncé levels of fame. But more. She has so many hits on Wizarding Radio, and she even has some on Non-Magical Radio as well. So she’s famous all round. Also, she apparently had something to do with the Wizarding War and saved a crap ton of lives. She’s a super talented witch, and has invented a ton of potions and stuff. Big proponent of dragon rights, for some reason.

Basically, she’s a lot like Hedy Lamarr, which is what my uncle said. I had to look up Hedy Lamarr. She’s this gorgeous actress that apparently invented some way of communication that helped America win WWII. So, cool.

She and her husband are a huge power couple, and they’re big activists now. Oliver Wood used to be a Quiddich player, but all he does now is own the teams. He worked with the Order Of The Phoenix during the war. Their roles aren’t really clear in the history books. I guess it’s still confidential.

Another thing about Victoria Locke is that she’s American. After the war over in the UK, some straggling Death Eaters came across the pond and came over to wreak some havoc. It was a real issue, according to my mom. But a bunch of American witches and wizards organized and fought them off. The Death Eater Uprising of 2001, which Ina could tell you about in greater detail.

Anyhow, they’re apparently crazy close to the Weasleys.

“My cousin Victoire was named after her. She helped my Aunt Fleur with the birth, and she’s her goddaughter. I am too.” Lucy beamed.

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Al and Rose and Ari have been attached at the hip since birth, pretty much. They got special awards to the school in third year because they stopped some sort of plot to destroy the school or raise an army of the dead or something. Actually they stumbled into it. But they’re massively close. All the Griffies are. Our parents are always the most proud of them.” Sensing bitter territory here. I should tread lightly.

“Why no uniform?” Finally, Ina speaks up.

“Her parents put in thousands of galleons. I think they pay for half of everybody’s tuition.” A tall, slim nosed boy settles in beside Lucy.

“Hey Luce.”

“Scorp.” Scorpius Malfoy extends a hand to everyone.

“In time for pudding, I see.” He shrugs, and digs into a block of vanilla ice cream.

“Yeah, well. You guys were asking about Ari? Yeah, she can do whatever she wants. Her parents are friends with everyone, and she’s brilliant besides.”

“But not prefect.” Lucy interrupts, gesturing to Scorpius’ flashing badge.

“She didn’t want to be.” Scorpius is rather eloquent for a guy whose mouth is stuffed with éclair.

“I’ll be prefect next year.”

“Course you will, Luce. Nepotism and all.” He nudged her and she laughed, flicking hot fudge at his face.

“What took you so long?”

“Eh. Rules and Regs about the tourney. Plus, Peeves made a mess. Had to clean for the new arrivals.” He gestures to us.

Well excuse us for living. I can tell he doesn’t mean it in a rude way, though, so I let it slide.

Ugh. Of course, a chunk of hot fudge filled brownie slides off my ear right as I think that. Perfect. That’s it.

“Invobis!” And with that, all the dried little pieces of sausage collected at the bottom of my plate turn up and around and lodge themselves in James Potter’s nose.

Invobis. Commonly known as the Up Yours Hex.

“Nice one.” Scorpius chuckles.

“Thanks.” He digs into a crock of cookies, spreading chocolate pudding between them.

“This is good. House elves outdid themselves, I think.”

Clang.

Ina’s spoon hits the floor. I’ve put mine down a little more gracefully. Considering.

House elves. They still use house elves here? I thought they got rid of that antiquated way of thinking. I thought-

“But-but that’s- do you pay them?” Ina is getting frazzled.

“I think so. I don’t know.” Lucy’s turning redder by the second.

“Some do, some don’t. They choose.”

“They choose to get paid? What?” These British people. What the what is going on with them?

Ina pushes her plate away, and I do the same. We make conversation with Scorpius and Lucy through the rest of dinner, and they don’t notice that we’ve stopped eating.

We regroup after dinner with the rest of the Salem girls, and Keiko asks Professor Orange loudly if she knows about the slave labor in the kitchens.

Orange shushes her.

“I’m starving.” She whispers. “Would be anyway. I’ll have to survive on carrots from here to June.”

“Keiko! Insulting our host is not going to get us invited back!” Orange shushes her.

“And Tansy. No hexing the other students. Especially not Harry Potter’s son! For heaven’s sake, do you want to cause an international incident?” Maybe he was trying to start an international incident. I was not to blame here.

Orange led us out the door into the night. Parked out front was the star spangled car.

“Are we sleeping in this?” Emily asked, nose in the air.

Orange flicked her wand and it turned into a star spangled house. Pretty big, too.

“Champion’s Quarters.” With that, we swept inside out of the cold night.

“Here,” Lex shoved something in my hand. It was a bunch of nutrition bars.

“I was hungry too.” I should question something Looney Lex gave me but I was too hungry to care. I slip a couple to Ina and Keiko and we munch quickly, not wanting to get caught. It’s going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

The first empty bottle quivered in the center of the circle, still frothy from the butterbeer that had recently been drained from it.

“One, two, three.” We made certain to keep our voices down as we sat in the center of the floor, equidistant from all seven hammocks hung on the walls. Principal Orange believed that they were the most comfortable of beds. Funny how she had a four poster in her own room.

The Champion, whoever she was, would get her own room as well.
Keiko flipped the bottle neatly, the hollow scrape too loud for our liking. It pointed to all three of us in turn, splattering us with the sickly sweet cream.

Our qualms with the kitchens of Hogwarts were, ultimately, unfounded. Well, that’s not true. They were founded. Our fears about being starved out this year were unfounded. The house that Orange had given us had a huge kitchen that was the centric room, filled to bursting with fruits and veggies and ice cream and Fizzing Whizbees and basically anything anybody wanted. And, we found out, a large supply of Butterbeer.

Which led to the three of us sneaking a six pack.

We were exhausted, but too excited to go to sleep.

The bottle swirled to a stop.

Between me and Ina.

“Re-do.” Keiko moved to twirl it, but it didn’t budge. It was like it was glued to the floor.

“Did somebody enchant this?” A couple of guilty expressions say yes.

“While you were in the bathroom. It was so we couldn’t do re-dos. Obviously the thing thinks that somebody is part of the game.” There was a hammock right in between us.

“Am I supposed to wake her up?” Keiko shrugged.

“Unless you want to sit here til morning.” It’s Pia. She shakes awake easily.

“Wha-ju-wa’” Her words come out garbled, but she falls into wake simply. Probably all of those early morning Quiddich practices. This is why I hate sports.

“Listen, we’re playing a game and SOMEBODY enchanted it so it won’t budge until you answer. Truth or Dare. “ Fortunately, Pia loves this kind of crap, so she was bounding up and out pretty quick. Ina snapped open a butterbeer and handed it to her. She licked the froth off and nodded.

“Go ‘head.”

“Uhhh…. What’s your greatest fear?” Ina clicked her tongue at Keiko’s question. It was rude. Pia wasn’t really our friend. We should’ve just dared her to jump in the black lake or something.

Then again, Truth Or Dare is a storied Salem tradition and everybody has been subject to its intrusive charms. I’m sure that Pia has been no exception. I mean, after all, she was captain of the Quiddich team. If they don’t engage in hazing then I’m a monkey’s uncle. And since I hate bananas, you know what I mean.

Pia’s chugged down about half of the thick necked bottle, and releases the glass with a fat pop.

“Getting injured. Not getting on a Quiddich team, a pro one. Failing, I guess. I can’t afford it. You know, I’m not good at a lot of things. I’m only good at Potions because of flying. Just so I can get back on that broom. If I can’t fly, I don’t know what I’ll be able to do. You know?” Pia’s on demand on about three or four Quiddich teams. I can’t see how she wouldn’t be in demand. She’s way talented, and she gets injured all the time, but she’s good at Potions, so she’s cured pretty quick. Brilliant, actually. She could be a healer, anything she wanted.

I say so much to her, and she shakes her head.

“You know how much that costs? You gotta go to college. My family can barely afford Salem. I gotta go pro if I want any kind of future. There’ll be so many scouts at the Triwizard Tourney. Harry Potter did something amazing like twenty some years ago when they first revived the Triwizard, and Alexandra Cross and Andre Mileu both emerged from the Triwizard because of their flying. The European leagues pay a lot more, and I may be on the radar in the US, but it’d be essential to get representation out here.” She shrugs, sucking down the rest of the butterbeer.

“Is that what you guys wanted?” No, it’s not really. I mean, none of us wanted to get that heavy. We just wanted to talk about our most embarrassing moments and perform Freezing charms on each other’s bras. That’s it.

Ina’s arms are around Pia before she even finishes her sentence. Ina’s the nicest one of us. Pia awkwardly gives her a pat before they separate.

“Well, it gives rise to something interesting. Why are we all here, anyway?” Of course Emily freaking Whitehouse (aka WHITEHEAD) is awake. She slips out of her hammock, and I’m pleased to tell you that she tripped a bit. Ah, it pleases me so much I’ll tell you again. SHE TRIPPED.

Ah, brings me joy.

She settled between Pi and Keiko, and took one of the butterbeers without asking.

“Well, aren’t all going to spill it? I mean, it’s not going to stop anybody from putting their names in, but it could maybe allow us to root for whoever wins, if they have a salient point in regard to their motives.” I want to punch her so badly. I do.

I’m not telling her why I’m here. I mean, it’s pretty obvious, right? Orange has been shoving it down our throats for the past year or so. Do it for honor, for glory, to be remembered, to win for the good of old Salem. You know, there are only a few reasons why people do what they do.

Really it’s none of her business.

“I don’t know if you’ve ever played Truth or Dare before, but that’s not how it works.” I am a total ice queen. I’d be scared of me.

Whitehead, however, is not me.

“I know what Truth or Dare is.” I know exactly where my wand is and if she provokes me, she will be a hairless slug covered in boils in thirty seconds flat. Both of our hands ghost over our pajamas.

“Tansy – I’m spinning the bottle.” Ina diffuses the tension, of course, because she is better than the rest of us.

The bottle spins, obviously.

It lands on me. Because life is not fair.

“Dare.” Because I’m not taking any chances. I don’t want to tell anybody why I’m here or who I’m crushing on. No weakness. Especially not in front of Whitehead.

Whitehead crosses her arms, grinning like the Chesire freaking Cat.

“I dare you to break into one of the Hogwarts dormitories.” We’re not allowed to leave the dormitories.

“Done.”

***
I said that too hastily. Despite what people think, it is not easily done.

There is only about twenty feet between us and the hallowed halls of Hoggy Hoggy Hogwarts, but it could’ve been miles. There are a bunch of teachers roaming the halls, alongside that effing poultergiest that people treat reverently now because he actually took part in the Wizarding Wars and that allows him run of the freaking grounds. Considering the fact that I don’t have an invisibility cloak, it’s almost certain that I’ll get caught, hauled before Principal Orange, and be sent back to the Americas before I can say Quiddich.

But if I don’t do it then everybody will know.
So I have to do it. They don’t call me the Spy for nothing.

Okay, so there are dozens of entrances into the school. If I enter right by our house, it’ll be too obvious. So I have to get in there another way.

From what I know about the school, there are four common rooms. Two towers, and two – like- hovels in the ground. Two require passwords, one requires logic, and God knows what Hufflepuff needs. Okay. I know people from Hufflepuff, but I doubt they’ll let me in.

Ravenclaw? I mean, I’m logical enough. I could get in there. Or if I hide long enough, I could maybe get the passwords for Slytherin and Gryffindor.

But I have to be back before sunrise.

This is insane.

Then again, I’ve done crazier.

As we were walking back, I noticed a few stones that were jagged, and something dark behind them. I assume that’s an entrance.

It’s a short drop from the covered courtyard into this grassy bank behind it. I’m pretty close to the greenhouse, and I think that’d be a smart place for a professor or that damned poultergeist to be hiding behind so I’ve got to get in through this creepy little group of jagged stones.

I can’t see anything, so I shoot a couple of Immobulous charms and some pertrafacus totaluses too.

“Lumos.”

There’s nothing in there beyond dirt and cracked stone. I slip through pretty easily.

Somebody has dug this. Seems like a refuge from the War era. It’s smart. Hardly anybody can see it, and you can probably fit a ton of people in here.

Whoever dug this thing is a freaking genius.

It’s a poorly dug path, but a path nonetheless. I wind up it pretty quick, and I’m underneath some dead end.

Oh sweet Fizzing Whizbees.

Wait. The stone ahead of me is seamed. It’s a door.

No sound above me. It’s safe.

“Alohamora.” No budging.

I try a few others, and all that ends up happening is a bunch of sputtering sparks that are slow to go out.

I am a good witch. I can do this.

The tap of my wand yields something. It’s loose. A couple good old fashioned pushes and –

I’m in.

I seem to be right under a table in the library. This’ll work, I guess.

Meowww.

I am making eye contact with a red eyed cat. Scorpious and Lucy warned me about this demon cat. Where she goes, her evil owner follows. Actually he’s this old Squib man who I feel pretty sorry for when it’s all said and done, but then again, he is the sort of person that has taken his non-magical-ness pretty hard and takes it out on the students. I hear that he is a big fan of whipping people and was very disappointed when Headmaster Longbottom wouldn’t even consider it.

So I either stay here and get screwed over or I run.

“Silencio.” I send a quick one at the cat, and all it can do is try to hiss at me. To little avail.

I replace the stone quick as I can and high tail it out of there.

I need a disguise. A Disallusionment charm would work well.

It feels like an egg’s being cracked on my head. I always want to shake this spell off. Ugh.

But at least I’ll be safe when I’m in the shadows.

Just in time, too. Two prefects are sweeping down right quick after me. Talking a little loudly too. This castle is supposed to be asleep.

“Well, I think that Ari’s going to be chosen. Her parents own half the school. “

“I don’t think the Goblet of Fire counts your bank account.”

“She’s a genius, besides.”

“Yeah, but she’s too young. A fifth year shouldn’t be able to join.”

“Well the Goblet of Fire doesn’t look at bank accounts, but the school board does.” Some bitterness there.

“You could enter, Maddie.” The girl shrugs and rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, but honestly. I don’t think I really have it in me to , you know, it’s hard. And people get hurt, that’s a guarantee.” What does getting hurt matter when eternal glory is at stake? These people.

And nobody can say you didn’t earn that glory. It comes to you all your own. And everybody saw you win. Nobody can say you didn’t. Not even you.

Anyway.

I figure I’ll follow these two in the shadows. They’re bound to head back up to their tower eventually. I guess I’ll be going Gryffindor.

Edging my way behind them is pretty simple. I’ve learned a lot about Maddie’s NEWTs and how worried she is for them. I’ve also learned a lot about her Healer application, the fact that she has been breaking out lately, and the fact that her little sister has gotten detention every night this week and she’s not starting off her third year right, is she?

Her companion barely says anything, just nods his head. Haven’t gotten a good look at him. Don’t really care to. So long as they lead me directly to the tower, I don’t really care.

I get that this isn’t “good sleuthing”. Most people would probably want me to scale the walls or poison somebody. But that’s not good sleuthing either. It’s about doing the easiest thing possible. Besides, Maddie’s complaints are pretty soothing, actually. They seem so small.

There’s nothing that they really need to address, no students out of bed besides yours truly. Unfortunately, I am behind a couple of do-gooders, and they stayed out the whole freaking time that they were supposed to. It’s all very infuriating.

So thank everything that has ever existed, they have decided to go back to the dorm because they are done with their shift. I am about to pass out from exhaustion because my butterbeer buzz wore off about two hours ago and I am running on fumes. I wish I had something to eat. Or drink. Or a bed to sleep on.

I’ve had to keep recasting the disillusionment charm because it only lasts an hour usually.

These people walk so damn slowly that I am this close to hitting them.

We walk up what must be seven dozen flights of stairs on our way to the tower. Unfortunately they keep changing about every five seconds so when I have to get back it’ll be a whole other adventure. I almost got my foot stuck in what seems to be a trick step. I guess this place enjoys screwing with you, I don’t know.

Finally we make it up to a gold framed painting of a very fat woman in a boss pink dress.

“Paws-wurrdd…” Her voice actually sounds like that, I’m not even kidding.

“Whizbang.” The boy finally speaks. Oh Fizzing Whizzbees. It’s James Freaking Potter. Who is a prefect and will probably (totally) report me because we are enemies and I am now in his common room.

I’m excited that I screwed him over, but terrified that he will see me and report me. But as long as I stay in the shadows, I’ll be fine. In fact, I’ll go over a few spells while I wait for them to leave. Confundus. Furnuculus. Stupefy. Petrificus Totalus. Obliviate.

Okay, I wouldn’t really do a memory spell, but that’s only as a last resort. He threw a lot of sausages at me at dinner.

The voices have died, so I think that it’s safe to fully crawl through.

Wow.

There’s a lot of red.

Lots of embroidery.

The best way that I could describe this place is squashy. Squashy chairs. Thickly embroidered everything. Squashy warm carpets on the floors and the walls and everything. It’s like being inside something squashy.

I like it, sort of.

There are a ton of lions embroidered on everything. Obviously.

Whoa. Big fire. That is totally a fire hazard. Haha.

Sorry.

Thankfully, nobody is around. Probably because it’s somewhere past three AM and nobody with any sense is awake.

Well, I’m in. I don’t know what else I can do.

I wonder where those stairs lead to.

Now, in case you haven’t realized, I’m a bit of an absolute idiot. I push things too far, and I go off the edge way too often. Seriously. Do not be anything like me. I’m the stupidest sort of daredevil.

Which is why I go up the stairs. And go all the way up to the boy’s dorm. And all the way back to the seventh year’s dorm. And I steal all their underwear.

Yes, I do make good choices.

The girls from Salem all wake up with Gryffindor boys’ underwear over their faces. Whitehead has a rash on her face.

I do make good choices.

Chapter Text

There was no sleep. So I can’t really say much about waking up, only that I found myself at the breakfast table. I found myself eating.

Today was the day.

Not the real day. It was the day before the day. We were putting our names in the Goblet Of Fire today.

So no big deal.

The fingers of dawn are folding over the grounds, casting everything in a too bright light, bouncing off the dew into rays that burned our eyes before the sun retreated behind the clouds. By the time the sun rose in full, the sky’s completely covered with gray.

Not that I mind. It’s the sort of gloomy crispness that I love. It says Halloween, even though it’s not Halloween quite yet.

“Ladies!” Orange’s voice is killing my ears.

“Today is the day that we submit our names to the Goblet Of Fire. At this point, the field is clear. Any one of you could be the Champion. Any one of the Hogwarts students. At this point, nobody is serious. Merely excited. The Beauxbatons students don’t arrive here until tonight. Which means that we have exactly twelve hours to make our mark on Hogwarts. Gather intel. Gather potential allies at Hogwarts. Make them like us. This will be vital when the time comes for them to help one or the other.” The woman is making it sound like life or death. I guess it sort of is for her.

The thing about Orange that I forgot to mention was the fact that she is deathly ambitious but nothing has turned out for her ever. If she drinks enough Peach Schnapps you can get her to go on about it. I actually admire the fact that she is so ambitious still. It’s the kind of thing that I don’t think that I could ever do.

So we’re sent out in our star spangled jackets to prowl the castle.

Now, to be fair, none of us are going to track down people in order to ally with them. Technically we’re not supposed to get help from anybody. The champion is not supposed to get help from anybody. It’s not allowed.

Which is why Keiko jets away from us in order to owl her non magical boyfriend. And Pia heads to the Quiddich field. And Looney Lex goes to the library.

The rest of us, more or less, wander the castle.

Whitehead actually goes to the breakfast hall to find her Ravenclaw friends, with a stupid smirk which makes me want to punch her in the face. But she always makes me want to resort to violence. But Whitehead is clumsy at social interaction, almost down there with Looney Lex. These Brits will see straight through her trying to forge bonds. She’s better on the page than in person.

Reese, however, has made friends with half the school at this point. Without even trying. It’s the way that she is. People like her because she’s so good at making them like her. It’s so effortless, you can’t truly see through it unless you’ve known her since before puberty. And you took all those People Skills classes with her. Basically if you’re me.

Not that she’s malicious. She just knows that you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar. And she knows where to put the honey. That’s all.

As for me, I’m just wandering. Oh, and Ina’s with me.

“We should go make friends. Those Hufflepuffs were nice.” We are not hanging out with the Hufflepuffs again. Nice as Lucy and Scorpious are, they cannot take a hint. I had to listen to Lucy wax poetic about what freaking heroes all of us are. Not that that isn’t nice, I’m sure. If I actually was one.

Honestly, ever since everybody woke up with a face full of Gryffindor boys’ undies, I don’t think I’m the most popular person in the house right now.
Ina’s with me, but Ina’s nicer than the rest of us. She’ll hang out with anybody.

“You want to go find people to talk to?” Well, I guess there’s nothing else to do.

Classes have been called off for the next couple of days in the excitement of the tournament, so nobody’s got to be anywhere. Which has led to the amount of kids just lingering in the Great Hall. They perk up when we arrive.

I guess we’re novelties. Not that I’ve ever thought of myself that way. But I guess when you have a little Midwestern twang or whatever, it’s got to be interesting to these hoity toity Brits.

Honestly, for the first time in the past twenty four hours, I’m actually looking forward to seeing that creep James Potter. Just to see the smirk on his face wiped off when he realizes that I boosted his boxers.

I say as much to Ina and she just smiles serenely. Sometimes Ina’s really annoying. Just how freaking ZEN she is. I realize this is not her fault, but sometimes it bothers me, especially given the fact that I just say whatever I want and don’t even think about it.

“Are you sure that you just want to laugh at him about his boxers? Not ask him if he’d like to take you to dinner?” Sometimes Ina can be funny. This was not one of those times.

“Don’t be gross Ina.” We pass by some uproarious laughter from the Ravenclaw table. Whitehead is at the center of it.

“First time she ever made people laugh on purpose.” Obviously these Ravenclaws have no sense of humor.

“You want to just go look around?” Ina isn’t a fan of crowds. “There are some incredible secret passageways that I read about in one of the history books on this place.”

I know I should respect her wishes, but history will be there later. As of now, it’s best to try to catch some of these people when they’re down, when nobody is competition. Right now the playing field is clear, we’re the only ones here and –
My God I sound like Principal Orange.

I was in the middle of saying yes when two jovial voices called out to us.

“Tansy! Ina!” Scorpious and Lucy.

They had mouths full of sausage and two places saved for us. The Hufflepuffs seemed to be the only group that was actually eating. This is why I still sort of like them.

We wander over because of course we have to, and they’re all smiles.

“How’d you guys sleep last night?” We didn’t.

“Good.” Ina with the save.

Scorpious smiles and takes a bite of his waffle.

“Great! Everybody’s been talking about you guys, they’re so excited you’re here. The Beauxbatons students almost always come to the Triwizard, so everybody kind of knows them already. Besides, I have some cousins that go there. So it’s not that exciting. But you guys – I mean, real Americans. You’ve never come to a Triwizard at Hogwarts.” Lucy’s practically bubbling over.

“That’s true, I’ve looked into its history. We started attending in the 1700s and even then it wasn’t every year. Hogwarts and Salem have only competed together twice in its four hundred year history.” Trust Ina to know that.

“Exactly!” Lucy is the sort of person that gets overly overexcited about everything. As I am the sort of person that well, takes pride in hating many things, I can tell that this is going to be a very trying friendship for me.

I know, I know I should be grateful. I should be trying to pump her for information. But she’s so damn Suzy Sunshine that I want to stuff a sausage in her face.

Fortunately nobody has noticed the fact that I have practically started to give off steam. It’s for the best, I think.

Scorpious, to his credit, or discredit, has noticed that I may be feeling a little left out of the conversation that Lucy and Ina are having over the table about history. It’s getting lively. And we’re both getting cut out of it so maybe it wasn’t entirely an unselfish act on his part.

“So, when are you guys putting in your names?” I shrug.

“Sometime today. Or tomorrow.” After dinner, obviously. That’s when they bring out the Goblet. It’s like he has no concept of how this thing works.

“Well that’s cool. Maybe we’ll see you guys there.” I have no idea what this Scorpious person is trying to do. He is like, actually required to go to the feast. Of course he’ll see us.

Lucy elbows him in the ribs.

“Well they might want to sit with their school.” My my, isn’t Miss Weasley getting prickly?

“Yeah, I mean, maybe.” I don’t want to get overly committal if they don’t want us. Oh no. We’ve been rejected by the reject house.

Who will we even sit with now?

“Are you crazy, Luce? We need to have at least one champion to root for.” He winks at me. Or at us. I don’t even know anymore.

“What do you guys mean? Aren’t you going to root for whoever runs for Hogwarts?” Ina stares at me out of the corner of her eye.

Scorpious chuckles under his breath.

“Listen, you guys don’t go here. This one’s relatives run the school. It’s Gryffindor or die. Or Ravenclaw if you’re a bit too bookish. But be prepared to disappoint your parents. Being a Hufflepuff, or God Forbid, a Slytherin, is The Worst Thing That Can Happen. Honestly, my family’s been Slytherin as far back as we can remember but I can’t tell you how happy my parents were when I wasn’t.” Scorpious coats three slices of toast in marmalade and stuffs them in all at once. He has a large mouth.

“And of course there’s the fact that everybody at Beauxbatons is even worse. They’re so freaking snobby.” Lucy taps her fork against her almost empty plate.

So what, we’re the country cousins?

I know I’m getting a little too high and mighty here but I’m wound so freaking tight today I’m afraid I may explode.

“So we’re rooting for you guys. Or any Hufflepuff that manages to make it through.” My face is weirdly slimy in some places thanks to the spatter of yogurt from Lucy’s spoon. Blueberry. My worst nightmare.

Ina cleans it with a flick of her wand.

“Not that that’s happened for a while. Last time, what? 2002? Before we were born, that’s for sure.” Scorpious swirls his food around.

“Well, it’s nice to hear that you guys are willing to cheer for us. That’s pretty sweet.” Ina chirps.

“Yeah. Do you guys have any idea who might be up against us?”
“The Griffies, obviously. Ravenclaw always throws in for it, though they don’t get it as much. Slytherin is usually pretty well up for it. Then a few Hufflepuffs. We’re not very well represented. Oi! Five points from Slytherin!” Scorpious points at the back of a tall, sylphlike boy that’s walking slowly away from the dungbombs he just set off at the Ravenclaw table like he didn’t even care who knew it.

“Louis!”

He doesn’t even look back.

Despite myself I’m a little impressed.

“Yeah, don’t encourage Louis. He only likes to be stared at. Smarmy.”

I don’t blame Louis for wanting to be stared at. The man is on a different plane of gorgeous.

“So, anything else going on in the castle? You know, we want to get to know people. Because we’ll be here until July.” I know, their school is insane. We have normal amounts of time off in the US of A, not that I’m complaining.

No, I’m complaining.

More importantly, I want to see what they’re willing to give up to us.

“Well, the staircases like to change.” Lucy pitches this to us brightly.

No.

After about forty minutes of terrible advice that we already totally knew about thanks to Hogwarts, A History, they finally shut up and we could peace out without it being too big a deal. I think Ina enjoyed their company, so she was okay with staying, but I was not having it. We needed to actually meet people who would, I don’t know, help us decode riddles or let us in on what the first task was. Not people who told us that if we went into a certain corner of the castle at night there was a broom cupboard that disappeared sometimes.

I, of course, being the lady that I am, excused myself in the most ladylike way possible.

“I got the craps, I think. Where’s the john?” This is why I get along well with my ninety one year old great grandfather. We like plaid shirts and knowing where the bathroom is.

Anyway, I got up bowl legged because I wanted to give as authentic of a performance as possible, they stopped us.
“Hey, what are you guys doing for Halloween night?” It’s fairly obvious, isn’t it?

“The feast?” Scorpious shook his head.

“Later.”

Well, nothing.

“There’s this Halloween party that people put on. In the Room of Requirement. We were thinking about going, if you want to come with us.”

Well that was an unexpected score. Everyone is welcome. I credit this all to my charm.

All I say is, “Yeah, cool.”

So that went well.

***
We spent the rest of the morning wandering the castle, wondering who exactly would fit the specifications for champion. Keiko joined us at some point, and she and I jumped up and over the stairs, trying to trip each other. Luckily, I’m fairly catlike, so I don’t fall.

“Who do you think they’d take though? Previous champions vary. Like Boca Mayer. She was the bottom student at Mana Kula Academy. And then she got picked.” 1998. Mayer didn’t know how to do a lot well, but she had incredible people skills. She gained favor among the competitors, and she was able to be privy to a lot of plans, just by virtue of her likability. And she wasn’t stupid. She couldn’t do a lot of magic well, but what she could do well, she was an absolute expert at. And she freaking slayed that year.

“I think you have to have a variety of skills. Not just magic. You know, some people have brute force. Dumb luck. Talent. Some combination of all of the above.” Keiko’s brushed off a blooming bruise on her knee and tried to attack me again.

“Well – yeah. Obviously. I mean, compare someone like Viktor Krum to someone like Milah White. Or to Rowan Birch. Brute strength combined with Dark Arts knowledge compared to a potions genius that used enchantments to set everyone to sleep so she could win that task. Rowan Birch lost the tourney, but she was so amazing with animals that she was able to pretty much screw anyone over with that. Do you guys remember how she totally set that dragon on that guy?” Rowan Birch was something of a psycho, but she was amazing with animals.

“Let’s not mention Rowan Birch.” Ina said.

“Who do you guys think is going to get it. Really.” We all stop.

I mean, we’ve been friends for a distressing amount of time and there’s never been a silence quite this long.

“I mean – any of us could win it. Totally. Any of us.”

That was not the first time we all lied to each other, but it was probably the worst.