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‘...Therefore, anyone interested in entering the Tournament must firstly inform Professor Kysely and if, over the course of your six, seven, eight years here you have proven yourself worthy enough to represent the school, you may be one of the few aboard the ship to Hogwarts, where you will spend the rest of the year – lessons and exams included – even if you are not one of the champions. Might I remind you that despite the precautions taken to make this year’s Tournament – less dangerous – for the champions, death is not necessarily out of the question. You have one week to decide. Go.’
Very cheerful Karkaroff, very cheerful. *Please note all sarcasm*
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The Headmaster addressed a yellow-toothed leer at the students as they started filing out of the hall for their lessons; Amara and Karina got up and followed the throng of chattering sixth-years making their way to History.
Amara’s all grown up, in sixth year!
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‘Always so positive, Karkaroff, isn’t he?’ Karina said, shouldering her schoolbag, which was surprisingly bulging for someone who rarely carried more than three books around. She peered sideways at Amara. ‘So, what do you think?’
Exactly what I said Karina. Surprisingly bulging? Three books? I have to carry three text books around and they’re horrible on my back!
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Amara thought for a second. ‘Maybe, but it’s not like I have a big chance of going, seeing as Kysely’s in charge.’
Kysely had
better let her go to Hogwarts. Or else.
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‘Well, I’m definitely trying,’ Karina said, panting slightly under the weight of her mysteriously heavy bag. ‘I bet Hogwarts is great. Well, warmer, to start with. Plus there’s the Ball.’
Warmer indeed!
A ball? *Pauses and tries to remember the Yule Ball* ooohhh I can’t wait to read about that...
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‘What if one of us gets chosen, though?’
Don’t worry Amara, at least your suffering of being picked will give the readers more entertainment and Drama!
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‘They’ll probably choose some tough guy like Pavlovich, not—’
Like Viktor Krum?
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and a silver round object about five centimetres in diameter.
Centimeters perhaps? Or is that another one of those spelling things that my spell check doesn’t pick up on? Like Colors/Colours.
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‘You’re still carrying that Warder around?’
*Quickly scans through other chapters to see if I missed anything about a Warder*
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It was by far the most dangerous one, and – according to Karina – the Warder was the only reason they hadn’t been attacked by escaped rampages of Scandinavian dragons and Wendigos yet, as it supposedly warded off evil and bad luck.
Superstitious?
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‘Don’t tell me it doesn’t work,’ she’d said one morning, perched on the end of her bed in their dormitory as the two were waiting for their turn to use the bathroom. ‘Even Kysley’s been giving us less homework lately.’
After which Amara had had to lend two Dark Arts essays and a diagram for Karina to copy, who'd only just realised she had forgotten to jot them down on her diary, and had Dark Arts in one hour.
Hehe, It’s okay Karina, that’s something I would do.
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This sufficiently proved that the Warder didn’t, in fact, ward off evil or bad luck, but that didn’t stop Karina from hauling it around in her bag everywhere she went.
Superstitious and stubborn. I like her.
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The History Professor had already started a drone on the 1689 Statute of Secrecy as they entered the classroom and seated themselves at the back, so, without further ado, Amara and Karina followed their usual routine of playing hangman on the corners of their parchment, occasionally scribbling down a note or two from the never-ending litany about witch hunters and Reasonable Restrictions on magic, or ticking off the names of boys they would go with to the Yule Ball or not.
The professor sounds like Prof. Binns at Hogwarts.
I’m glad they’re having fun.
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The wind blew strongly from the north in the late October. It was the first Quidditch match of the year, and conditions were not very ideal, as Aleks McFarland, Amara’s team captain, kept reminding them as they waited inside the changing rooms beside the Quidditch pitch.
‘We could have done with a bit less fog – just look at that, how are you going to know if you’re catching Quaffles or Bludgers?’ he was saying to the Chasers, pointing at the window as he paced up and down the room. His face was strained in a look that said he’d have liked to aim a Bludger at whoever had fixed the date for the match, as he turned to their Seeker. ‘And you’ll be lucky to spot that Snitch before they call us off. Amara – keep your eyes open and you should be able to see the Quaffle coming. Stan, you—’
Love the imagery and the captain sounds a lot like Oliver Wood.
Ooohhhh, he’s in trouble!
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He jerked awake and hit his head against the wall in the act, then, seeming to realise what the look on his Captain’s face meant, started muttering in a thick, uneven accent, ‘Ah – Kapitan, I am most —’
I was quite curious to see where he was going with that...
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and turning a deep shade of magenta.
Deep shade of magenta! I can just picture that...
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‘They can lose us this game, that’s what they can do!’ his Captain roared. ‘It’s bad enough already with this weather! And you didn’t come last time we had practice too. If you don't—’
Oliver Wood. Enough said.
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‘Not with Krum on their—’ Stan fretted, rubbing his head. Lea glared at him and he cut off immediately.
FINALLY! A mention of Krum! It’s not like I really like him as much I must seem to in these comments, but he’s the only person at Durmstrang that I know of from the movies.
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‘We’re going to win this,’ Finn, their Seeker, cheerily said, clapping his Captain on the back, as they heard the commentator outside shout, ‘...and a round of applause for the previous year’s champions, the Hippogriffs!’, and dashed outside, where it had started to rain.
I forget, what position is Amara?
That stinks...
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The others glanced at each other knowingly. He was probably going to ruin their lives that week with his pestering and groaning.
The russian version on Oliver Wood. Just saying.
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‘Unless you replace us?’ Stan said bluntly, taking out a bottle of what suspiciously looked like Firewhisky from his rucksack and innocently popping the cork with his wand. He took a sip and went on. ‘No way, Kapitan. I have been trying to get on this team vor years. I am not going to just—’
Being replaced is never fun, especially if the replacement stinks.
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‘It doesn’t matter,’ Lea cut in. ‘I think we all agree that we should get substitutes, just for this year, yes? Right, that’s settled.’
Thank you Lea! She is my new favorite
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She got up and, without waiting for an answer, went out into the pitch, followed closely by the other Chasers. Not knowing exactly what to say, Amara hurried outside too, preferring to leave the pep talk to someone who was good at it, like Finn.
That’s what I would do.
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She didn’t realise she had reached the East Wing before something made a resounding crash behind her and she spun around, searching for the source of the sound in the torch-lit corridor. Her eyes fell on what looked like a heap of bedraggled clothes leaning on a broomstick and holding what looked like a bottle of Firewhisky.
Sooo very drunk! (And wonderfully written)
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Sighing exasperatedly, Amara walked towards her drunk teammate and pulled him up with great effort.
Such a good friend/teammate!
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She’d curse herself into a Flobberworm
I don’t quite know why, but I loved this line.
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‘I just saw a note on the notice board, and it said there were too many names entered for the Tournament, so they’re holding tryouts instead. They’re tomorrow at five.’
:O :O :O :O :O
Best idea ever!