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Three people stood waiting in the dark outside the front door of Malfoy Manor. A woman, with long straggly black hair, her arms crossed and her gestures impatient as she rang the bell, a tall man with broad shoulders and a slightly hunched posture, and a little girl. She was no older than three, and despite it being the middle of summer, it was strangely cold and she was only wearing a short-sleeved polka-dotted dress. She was shivering, but her parents did not seem to notice.
They heard someone approach the door and ask who was calling.
‘It’s me, Cissy!’ whispered Bellatrix. ‘Let us in, it’s urgent we talk!’
There was a sound of wood on wood, a click of a lock and the door opened to reveal a woman with shining pale hair and an equally pale expression on her face.
‘Bella! Is it true, what they’re saying? That the Dark Lord’s—’
‘Close the door before you say anything, Narcissa!’ Bellatrix hissed, hastily entering the entrance hall, her husband and daughter following suit. They went into the living room, where a man with long blond hair was sitting in front of a roaring fire, clearly deep in thought, but as soon as the four entered, he seemed to come out of his reverie and got up, making his way towards them.
‘Ah, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, what a pleasant surprise—’ he started.
‘This isn’t a time for warm welcomes, Lucius,’ Bellatrix cut in, rather angrily. ‘You know perfectly well why I’m here!’
There was a short pause as Lucius stared, rather taken-aback at Bellatrix’s way of saying hello. ‘Let’s sit down,’ he suggested.
Rather reluctantly, Bellatrix sat down at the oak table and after they had accepted a glass of wine from the family house-elf she looked expectantly at her sister and her brother-in-law. They didn’t speak, so she got straight to the point.
‘It is true that the Dark Lord has lost his powers,’ she said darkly. 'He's disappeared.'
‘So are you saying you’re going to look for him?’ said Lucius. He was trying to hide the uneasiness he felt.
‘Obviously,’ spoke Rodolphus.
Another pause.
‘Well? Are you coming?’
Narcissa shot a look at Lucius, who after a second replied, ‘Do not misunderstand me. I am not saying this out of disloyalty, but don’t you think it’s best if we lie low for the time—’
‘Exactly the answer I’d have expected from you, Lucius,’ snarled Rodolphus, scowling menacingly.
‘Yes, Lucius, Narcissa, I’d have thought better of you. We’re not—’
‘But think about it, Bella,’ Narcissa spoke quietly, ‘Ministry officials will be everywhere now, they’d do anything to get their hands on us now that Dark Lord’s – well, he can’t help us, can he?’
Bellatrix had a glint of madness in her eyes which never meant good news. ‘Are you meaning to say that you are only Death Eaters as long as he’s there to save you?’ growled Bellatrix. ‘We strive to follow his path even if it gets us a cell in Azkaban! Isn’t that right, Rodolphus?’
He nodded grimly. Lucius and Narcissa couldn’t think of anything to say after that. The little girl had been silent all the while, sitting obediently next to her mother.
A few tense minutes passed.
‘So be it.’ Bellatrix downed the last of her wine and got up; everyone else did the same. ‘But we still have one favour to ask. We may not be back for a while, so I must ask you to take Amarantha under your roof for the time being.’
‘Bella, you can’t be serious – what if you get caught?’ said Narcissa, her voice quavering slightly.
‘I think we have already made ourselves clear,’ huffed Bellatrix, in a voice that ended the matter. ‘Goodnight.’
They left without another word. The girl, Amarantha, sat still on her chair, staring curiously at her aunt and uncle’s furniture, and didn’t realize that her parents had left without as much as a goodbye.
*
A few days later, as Narcissa Malfoy had been right in predicting, the Ministry had already rounded up a large number of Death Eaters and most of them were being sent off to Azkaban without as much as a trial.
When the news that her sister had been arrested arrived, along with her husband and two other Death Eaters, it didn’t take Narcissa by surprise; she had been constantly worrying about when it would happen. A trial was to be held a few days from now, but how could she ever hope that her sister would be let off? There was proof enough that she’d tortured two people into insanity, and her record wasn’t exactly what you’d call clean.
Predictably, when the Daily Prophet arrived a week later, the front page bore the news that they had been sent to Azkaban, and in the meantime a few other Death Eaters had been caught. Narcissa sat down in front of the living room fire, her head in her hands, watching her one-year-old son playing on the carpet with a toy wand and making the fire turn different colours. Her husband had found a job at the Ministry and so far they hadn’t been convicted of anything. A swift lie and a few sacks of galleons – and the Minister had believed them.
Her niece sat, barely visible, on the other armchair, watching her cousin change the fire from red to blue to black and making little gasps of surprise every time. She was still wearing the same dress she’d worn the first night there, but her raven hair looked shinier and she looked considerably happier.
She’ll have to go soon, though, thought Narcissa, shifting her gaze and now staring at Amarantha. What if they found out? Lucius and Draco, they can’t know...
The front door opened and a cold breeze came swooping in, making the fire in the grate dance. Narcissa got up and went into the entrance hall.
‘Lucius,’ she greeted her husband, pecking him on the cheek.
‘How is Draco doing?’ he asked, taking off his travelling cloak. ‘I suppose he’s gotten over that little disagreement with his cousin this morning?’
‘Oh, he’s perfectly fine, yes,’ said Narcissa. She shifted her weight. ‘Listen, Lucius. I was thinking – the girl, she – well... do you think we should send her away? To St Nicholas’s?’
‘Yes, I was thinking about that too,’ mused Lucius. Narcissa looked positively relieved at his words. Lucius made his way into the living room and called the house-elf to get him a glass of wine after seating himself at the oak table. ‘She’s too much of a bother, if you ask me, and we already have our own son to take care of. But do you think Bellatrix would be happy about it?’
‘Well, it’s not like she really cared for the girl,’ said Narcissa briskly, as she followed him and sat down opposite at the oak table. The reminder that her sister was in Azkaban made her agitated. She lowered her voice so that only Lucius would hear her. ‘Amarantha doesn’t have any godparents, and, well, she probably won’t be back for some time too...’ She sighed heavily.
‘I understand how you may feel about your sister, Narcissa,’ he said, then paused to take a sip. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, ‘But it was unwise of them to do that. They should have—’
‘Don’t talk about Bella like that!’ Narcissa suddenly snapped. Then she let out a little gasp as if she couldn’t believe she’d just spoken that way.
‘I guess we should do as we said, then,’ he continued. ‘Tomorrow, take the girl to the orphanage and after we might as well go on with our normal lives.’
Narcissa nodded in agreement. It would be an enormous relief to get rid of another load of trouble. The past few weeks had drastically changed her life, and she was ready to do anything to go back to living quietly.
-----
A/N: So this is my first go at a Harry Potter fanfic. I'll be honest, I'm kinda nervous to see what people think of it, and I'd really appreciate any comments. I hope you liked it!
Okay, I admit I have yet to read this chapter but I would not feel right reading without giving an uber long comment as always, so don't be alarmed it shall be read tomorrow!
P.S. Yes, you did read right, I have two sets of twin brothers, one set identical and one set fraternal, the identical ones are all grown up but still tease me all the time, and the rest of my siblings (They convinced my brother when they were younger that monkeys lived in our basement), the fraternal ones are more quite and irritating (in my opinion at least).
Okay, I admit I have yet to read this chapter but I would not feel right reading without giving an uber long comment as always, so don't be alarmed it shall be read tomorrow!
P.S. Yes, you did read right, I have two sets of twin brothers, one set identical and one set fraternal, the identical ones are all grown up but still tease me all the time, and the rest of my siblings (They convinced my brother when they were younger that monkeys lived in our basement), the fraternal ones are more quite and irritating (in my opinion at least).
They do sound like F&G! I guess it's good that only one set is like that, imagine having 2 sets of teasing twins :o I have 4 brothers and I'm the youngest, so we do fight a lot But it's cool having lots of siblings I guess Lol the way I'm talking about it, it's like having a collection xd
Amazing chapter! So excited now and can't wait for Amara to FINALLY visit Hogwarts! (well, hopefully!) Intresting to see how she's settled in and see some new charries, can't wait for the next chapter!
Amazing chapter! So excited now and can't wait for Amara to FINALLY visit Hogwarts! (well, hopefully!) Intresting to see how she's settled in and see some new charries, can't wait for the next chapter!
Okay, I admit I have yet to read this chapter but I would not feel right reading without giving an uber long comment as always, so don't be alarmed it shall be read tomorrow!
P.S. Yes, you did read right, I have two sets of twin brothers, one set identical and one set fraternal, the identical ones are all grown up but still tease me all the time, and the rest of my siblings (They convinced my brother when they were younger that monkeys lived in our basement), the fraternal ones are more quite and irritating (in my opinion at least).
Wow. Your parents have a lot to handle. How many siblings do you have? (if you don't mind me asking)
XenoLongBottom: I have six older siblings, five of which are male. I am the youngest in the family and the only one still at home. Yeah, my parents did have a lot to handle but so did I dealing with them! haha
Anyway, here goes my uber long (Ever notice how Uber isn't a word?) comment.
SPOILER!!: ULC (Uber long comment) eleven
Quote:
‘...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*
Quote:
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!
Quote:
‘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!
Quote:
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.
Quote:
‘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...
Quote:
‘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!
Quote:
‘They’ll probably choose some tough guy like Pavlovich, not—’
Like Viktor Krum?
Quote:
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.
Quote:
‘You’re still carrying that Warder around?’
*Quickly scans through other chapters to see if I missed anything about a Warder*
Quote:
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?
Quote:
‘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.
Quote:
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.
Quote:
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.
Quote:
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.
Quote:
‘STAN!’
Ooohhhh, he’s in trouble!
Quote:
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...
Quote:
and turning a deep shade of magenta.
Deep shade of magenta! I can just picture that...
Quote:
‘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.
Quote:
‘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.
Quote:
‘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?
Quote:
‘We lost.’
That stinks...
Quote:
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.
Quote:
‘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.
Quote:
‘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
Quote:
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.
Quote:
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)
Quote:
Sighing exasperatedly, Amara walked towards her drunk teammate and pulled him up with great effort.
Such a good friend/teammate!
Quote:
She’d curse herself into a Flobberworm
I don’t quite know why, but I loved this line.
Quote:
‘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 wow!
So exciting!!! I cannot wait! I sure hoe she makes it, then it would fill your promise of letting her go to Hogwarts. Can't wait to see how she likes Harry if she goes!
-Rachel
[QUOTE=LillyJames;10902454]XenoLongBottom: I have six older siblings, five of which are male. I am the youngest in the family and the only one still at home. Yeah, my parents did have a lot to handle but so did I dealing with them! haha
I know how you feel *nods*
Anyway, here goes my uber long (Ever notice how Uber isn't a word?) comment.
'Don’t worry Amara, at least your suffering of being picked will give the readers more entertainment and Drama!'
'Centimeters perhaps? Or is that another one of those spelling things that my spell check doesn’t pick up on? Like Colors/Colours.'
Yep.
'Superstitious?
Hehe, It’s okay Karina, that’s something I would do.
Superstitious and stubborn. I like her.'
Karina's really superstitious and a bit naive the way I picture her.
'The professor sounds like Prof. Binns at Hogwarts.'
All history teachers are boring *nods knowingly*
'Oliver Wood. Enough said.
The russian version on Oliver Wood. Just saying.'
He sounds that unoriginal? :/
Well, I didn't have it in mind to make him like another version of oliver wood...but I figured that's the usual way captains react.
'I forget, what position is Amara?'
Keeper
--
Thankyou so much Abby, all these uber long comments look like hard work...is your wrist ok from all the typing? Btw, you're right, uber isn't a word in English. It's German I think, and means 'very'.
Thanks again!!
Quote:
Originally Posted by narnia_potter
O wow!
So exciting!!! I cannot wait! I sure hoe she makes it, then it would fill your promise of letting her go to Hogwarts. Can't wait to see how she likes Harry if she goes!
-Rachel
And about the whole captain of the team, not unoriginal, and he's not just like Oliver Wood, he just happens to be who I connected him with. I suppose most captains of sports are like that anyway.
And about the whole captain of the team, not unoriginal, and he's not just like Oliver Wood, he just happens to be who I connected him with. I suppose most captains of sports are like that anyway.
Yep, that's what I thought too...I've never heard of any captain who was very patient or nice
I love knowing what you guys think, so please by all means, point out the mistakes. I know my writing is far from perfect, so it will help me become a better writer if you give your opinions on grammar/style etc.
Yep, that's what I thought too...I've never heard of any captain who was very patient or nice
I love knowing what you guys think, so please by all means, point out the mistakes. I know my writing is far from perfect, so it will help me become a better writer if you give your opinions on grammar/style etc.
Thanks as always *glomps the whole lot of you*
Btw Chapter 12 = about 1/3 ready
Yah!!! Thanks for the status update! Can't wait to read!
PAMS!! I just read this story and found it really interesting!
And Amara will certainly be in the tournament, won't she? I want her to come to Hogwarts, and see F&G..
I'm excited to see what the tryouts are going to be..
PAMS!! I just read this story and found it really interesting!
And Amara will certainly be in the tournament, won't she? I want her to come to Hogwarts, and see F&G..
I'm excited to see what the tryouts are going to be..
Let's give a warm welcome to our new reader *claps*
Thanks for reading! You'll have to wait for any answers though Next chapter will be up soon
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__________________
We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back.........................................
But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass.....................................
The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony
My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like
‘At five’ turned out to be at five in the morning, before the sun had even started to rise. Apparently it was the first test, and a few had already given in to their warm beds after seeing that it had snowed a few feet over the night. Amara had practically all her exercise done after having to drag Karina off her bed and into the bathroom, locking the door after her to keep her from breaking out.
It took all her willpower not to lay down on her bed again as she pulled on her thickest clothes over her pyjamas and pocketed her wand safely, reminding herself that this would be her only chance of making it to Hogwarts. Karina’s alarm clock read three minutes to five when they were both ready.
Dashing down the stairs two at a time, they caught a glimpse of their common room before barging out of the door and sprinting across the corridor, the lanterns on the wall now only feebly flickering after a night in the cold. A few portraits complained loudly as the two rushed past and disturbed them from their slumber.
‘What if we’re not on time?’ Karina panted, as they arrived at the main door and went out into the snow towards the Quidditch pitch without a second thought.
‘Ve’ll make it. Still haff a few minutes left.’
It wasn’t Amara who answered. Stan had just joined them out of nowhere, and was running as if he hadn’t drunk one drop of Firewhisky the other night, but his attire was proof of how schnockered he was; what looked like a satin swimsuit and swimming goggles contrasted horribly worn under a blue trench coat and matching elf-shoes.
‘Well, you sure dressed up,’ Amara said, grinning.
He pulled his swimming goggles down and winked, making the other two roll their eyes.
‘You’ll freeze to death if you don’t get eaten by a Sphinx or a Wendigo,’ Karina said shrewdly.
‘Vhat? Ne... you do not think they’d—’
‘Who knows what we’ll have to get past,’ Karina went on, her eyebrows knitting with concern. ‘And I forgot my Warder in my trunk, so that’s not going to help at all—’
‘Oh, quit it,’ Amara said, ‘you know it doesn’t work.’
‘...how are we supposed to know how to repel Ördögs or scare off Banshees...’ Karina went on, as they neared the pitch.
The snowy tundra echoed with the sound of excitement and anticipation as the door to the stadium opened. About two hundred students had shown up for the tryouts; most were skulking on the benches, others stood waiting impatiently, and a few jogged around, stopping every few seconds to catch their breath in the freezing cold. At a table at one end of the court sat Karkaroff, Kysley, their Magical Creatures professor Stach, the Spells professor Ecklund, and a Quidditch teacher who was called Walberg.
‘Those will be our judges, then?’ Karina said, as Stan moved away towards his group.
‘I expected worse, to be honest,’ Amara muttered.
‘Yeah, at least Stach and Ecklund are all right.’
The Quidditch scoreboard had been altered to show the names of the judges and their votes, and a hovering enchanted clock above the judges’ table showed that the tryouts would start in just seven seconds; the door leading to the stadium was closing as the seconds ticked by. A few last students were struggling to get in as it receded inch by inch.
‘...Aaaand time’s up! Too bad for those who couldn’t make it!’
The Quidditch teacher’s voice reverberated across the vast stadium as he stood up and vanished the hovering clock. He waited as everyone stopped talking, then waited a longer time to double the tension. After a whole minute, he finally cleared his throat and smiled tightly. ‘Everyone, you may be wondering, what has led you here? What is it, that has urged your instincts to accept this quest, that quenched your heart’s sinews and saturated in your pulsating veins—’
One of the teachers coughed but the professor ignored them and quickly went on.
‘Yes. The Tournament has finally arrived, and today, as an attestation – to each your own – of how worthy your competitiveness and courage can truly bring the school its well-deserved glory...’
Amara and Katrina rubbed their eyes and sat wearily on a bench, the latter complaining about professor Walberg’s infinite speeches which they usually had to endure during every Quidditch lesson and which generally included him showing off his English vocabulary.
When a solid ten minutes had lapsed, and Walberg was satisfied that his audience was impressed with his bewitching, Browning-worthy speech, he went on to explain the rules and finally, the course of the tryouts.
Everyone forgot that they were drowsy and hungry and up before dawn, and instead listened closely to the three different obstacles they had to go through, one at a time, as the judges noted them.
The first obstacle, Walberg explained, was to test their stamina and agility; dodging spells while going through ten Quidditch goalposts successfully in two minutes. The second tested bravery and wandwork; fighting off a Dementor, a Boggart, and optionally, an Ördög (‘I told you,’ Karina hissed.) Lastly, the changing rooms had been changed into a puzzle to test their logic. If they didn’t come out within two minutes, they were immediately disqualified.
There was a pause after the professor finished explaining. ‘...How many of you are still up for it, then?’ he chuckled, as students glanced at each other and started murmuring.
Amara looked at Karina, who was half-heartedly staring at the doors leading out of the pitch.
‘It’ll only take five minutes, Karina,’ Amara tried. ‘Besides, you’re great at puzzles.’
Karina gave her a cynical look then shifted her eyes onto the stadium. ‘I can’t even produce a good Patronus.’
‘I don’t either, but it’s worth a shot. Anyway, if I do manage to get to Hogwarts alone, who can I count on to warn me about fire-breathing chickens and opera-singing skrewts trying to kill me in my sleep then?’
‘I got that Warder from a street-performing Seer in south Norway—’
‘...Very well, then!’ Walberg’s jaunty voice echoed across the stadium again. ‘It seems that no one has declined participation. Very chivalrous, students! Now... form a line, if you please... any first volunteers?’
A few raised their hands, including a boy, not much older than Amara and Karina, who they’d passed in corridors and seen him sulk in the library as a group of girls giggled a few feet away.
‘You know, that guy might have ten times more chance of getting in than us,’ Karina said, raising her eyebrows in an assuring sort of way.
‘Who, Krum?’ Amara said, looking over.
‘Ja, him. He was awesome with Bulgaria last summer.’
‘Yeah, I’d feel sorry for the other champions if he got chosen.’
‘Speaking of which,’ Karina mused, ‘how will they choose the champions?’
‘Dunno, more tryouts maybe?’
‘Like these aren’t enough already...’
They saw thirty students finish their tryouts without much trouble. It was true, nobody went near the Ördög’s cage, and a few spells gave their victims painful-looking blisters or five-foot long bean sprouts for ears, which made it pretty difficult to stay airborne – and out of the thirty, only four had been qualified, but after a while both Amara and Karina had a rough idea of how to get through.
Soon it was Amara’s turn and, rather hastily, she moved out of line and grabbed a broom from the crate of Firebolts, thinking that, if all else failed, at least she would have flown on the ‘elite broom’, as her Captain liked to call it. The school only owned a couple of these, and were only used once a year in the final Quidditch match. Amara’s team had only made it to the finale once, in her third year, and at that time the best brooms in the market were still the Nimbus 2000s.
She wondered if being a Keeper would tilt the odds a little in her favour, except that she was more used to blocking than dodging.
She had to make it to Hogwarts.
Amara mounted her broom and kicked off, the wind wailing in her ears as she reached high altitudes. A whistle sounded and she shot off towards the first goalpost. Professor Walberg had already started commentating in his cheery, exaggerated manner.
It wasn’t so hard, she thought, as she dodged a few jinxes and made it through the third hoop. One arm was balancing her whole body on the broom, while she held her wand in the other, deflecting all the spells she could.
When she had passed the fourth hoop a jet of electric red collided with the Firebolt and sidetracked her a few feet to the left. Taking the advantage of the distance between her and the spellcasters, Amara hastily put out the fire on the broom’s tail and batted at her singeing trousers. Deflecting all the spells was slowing her down too much, so she pocketed her wand and maintained a firmer grip on the Firebolt before shooting back towards the fifth hoop.
Past the sixth hoop… she was pushing her luck… past the seventh… only three left…
A cloud of frothy pink substance appeared out of nowhere and engulfed her whole. The Quidditch pitch vanished in a fog and the Firebolt started shuddering. Amara gripped on for dear life as pain jabbed at her head and the fog burned her throat, poisonously bitter. A thousand thin needles seemed to be poking at her skin.
Seconds later, the cloud had vanished and she realised the stadium had gone very quiet, except for the sound of someone furiously yelling and Walberg going crazy on the megaphone. It all felt detached from her as she tried to focus on staying balanced and gulped down breathfuls of fresh air.
Looking down, finally, she saw Professor Stach had left her seat at the judges’ table and was arguing with Kysley, who ignored her and instead went back to the judges’ table, leaving Professor Ecklund to calm down the Magical Creatures Professor.
That had been no ordinary jinx, Amara thought, thankful for the fresh snow as it settled on her skin and numbed the magic still lingering from the spell. That had been some sort of Dark magic. It had to be against the rules.
I can’t be disqualified now, she panicked, realising that well over two minutes had elapsed since she’d set off. Cursing Kysley under her breath, she looked towards the judges’ table, where Karkaroff was pleasantly sipping a glass of Firewhisky, his usual smile plastered on his face. He carelessly signalled for the tryouts to go on and waited expectantly.
Fuming, Stach took Kysley’s post and whistled.
‘Burke – back to hoop seven, and continue from there,’ she called out. ‘You have thirty seconds.’
Amara noticed that there were barely any spells coming towards her this time; Kysley must have been casting ten hexes at a time. She got very close to a Tap-Dancing Spell, which would’ve been very unlucky to get hit by, and as she passed the tenth hoop, she had to somersault to dodge a Tickling Charm.
She heard the whistle again and blew outwards, realising she’d been holding her breath for the past twenty seconds. Most of the students shouted encouragement as Amara landed on safe ground and waited for her score, eyeing the lock on the Boggart’s crate.
Stach drew her wand and formed a golden eight on the scoreboard. After her, Kysley gave an impetuous three.
Blood pounded in her head, mentally jinxing Kysley into a horned toad and adding up her score. She needed at least thirty points to move on to the next task.
Karkaroff also gave a three. That was fourteen in all. Professor Ecklund thought for a moment, then waved her wand and an eight appeared on the board. Twenty-two.
Eagerly, Amara looked at the last judge, Walberg, hoping for another eight. He’d given most students high scores so far.
‘That was a praiseworthy presentation of perseverance, Miss Burke,’ he said, accenting the ‘p’s so that everyone could notice his alliterative genius. ‘Although, may I add, that Sŭdiram Curse was very unfortunate,’ he added, glancing appraisingly at Kysley. ‘Nevertheless, you did well.’
With a flick of his wand, he formed a ten on the scoreboard, winking heartily at Amara, who was trying not to look too surprised. ‘Good flying, too.’
The second task proved to be much easier. Having Magical Creatures as an option, she was quite used to practising creature-repelling spells.
The Boggart hadn’t as much as formed into the dark, straggly-haired woman before Amara flung out her wand and recalled the sight of an ashen-faced Fred as two gnomes stole his wand and turned his outfit into a magenta Victorian dress that clashed horribly with his hair.
The Boggart was unrecognisable as its black hair turned bright apricot and the black robe turned pink. It decided to hop back into the dark confinements of its box soon after.
The Dementor wasn’t as easy. They had yet to actually practise the Patronus Charm against Dementors in Stach’s class, and Amara had only ever come across it in books.
A happy memory, she thought, walking up to the crate holding the Dementor and watching as Stach unlocked it. Playing Quidditch, maybe, or that time she and Karina had put into practice one of Fred and George’s favourite pranks, which consisted of ten Galleons’ worth of Dungbombs, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum and Hickey’s Portable Slapping Hands. Their victim had of course been their least favourite teacher, Professor Kysley.
Grinning as she remembered trying to keep a serious face while seeing Kysley drenched in sticky blowing gum and being repeatedly batted at by the Portable Slapping Hands, she pointed her wand at the Dementor now emerging from the crate.
The familiar memories which tended to creep up on her unexpectedly in sleep formed again in her head, almost tangible. A tiny house-elf with green, tennis-ball sized eyes was being tortured by the cackling woman, then that Muggle girl on the bloody kitchen floor who couldn’t have been much older than Amara herself at the time, and that face, burnt and distorted until it was anything but human.
‘Expecto – Patronum!’ she shouted, eyes half-closed. A tiny wisp of light appeared.
Then she realised... the memory she was using wasn’t exactly happy, it was more the kind she’d use against a Boggart. Clinging onto her wand, which was slipping out of her clammy hands, she opened her eyes again and thought of playing Quidditch at the Burrow.
It wasn’t much of a Patronus. The transparent sheet of white that burst out of her wand just barely managed to thrust the Dementor a few feet back before it disappeared again and Amara’s hand fell to her side.
Stach’s own Patronus forced the Dementor into the crate then, the white lynx hopping on the lid as it locked.
‘Good first try, Burke,’ she said gruffly, rechecking the lock and ushering Amara to the judges’ table. Amara followed her, slightly dazed and stunned after facing the Dementor. She watched her score being added up on the scoreboard; thirty this time; then made for the changing rooms. She took a deep breath before going in.
Amara found the place had been reduced to a tiny square garden with a maple tree standing in the middle. The wall opposite was painted to depict a castle in ruins in a wide patch of grass, and on the side of the room was another enchanted clock. The maple tree had somehow been enchanted to grow a variety of apples, oranges and, quite bizarrely, pineapples. What looked like a riddle was carved into the trunk:
My name is a saturation, a city
I seem to have no poetic potential
While the others sing hand in hand
Pluck me from the branches
You will reach the portrayed land.
The point of the riddle was pretty simple, then, Amara reasoned. She had to pluck one of the three different types of fruits and the painting on the wall would somehow materialise.
The first verse was quite simple – the only fruit of the three which could also mean a saturation, a colour, was orange, but she wasn’t sure if a city called Orange actually existed. The next two lines weren’t as straightforward. No poetic potential?
Then it hit her. “While the others sing hand in hand” had to mean that apples and pineapples rhymed, and now that she thought about it, she couldn’t find a single word which rhymed with orange.
The clock on the side read one minute twenty seconds left. Amara exhaled noisily. Orange was her best chance. She plucked the nearest one and to her relief, the painting started to smoothly arranged itself so that Amara could now hear the crows calling in the derelict turrets of the castle. She hurried across the plane ground towards the door, and entered.
Amara found three more doors in her way, and another enchanted clock which read just over a minute left. The stone floor beneath was multi-coloured and seemed to be mixed up, and, looking behind her, she saw another, slightly longer riddle on the cobbled wall:
To which door you go through
Is not a choice you make
The three have locks and bolts
Neither wand nor hand can break
Alas, a charm you may use
A curse you could choose
Yet a wand will not do work
Without the proper swishing move.
So the doors are bolted and my wand is useless? Amara thought, absent-mindedly looking down at the multi-coloured stones. Those have to be of use somehow.
Kneeling down, she pulled at one of the stones and found that they could be rearranged, but how should they be? Tugging at a strand of hair in frustration, she looked back at the riddle, scrutinising the last few verses, then set to arranging the stones into the wand movement of one of the first spells she’d learned, the Unlocking Charm, glancing up at the clock every few seconds.
Once she’d finished, she waited for a fraction of a second, then got up and stepped back as the stones seemed to lock in place and the word “Alohomora” appeared in cursive handwriting on the middle door. With just twenty seconds left, Amara waved and murmured, ‘Alohomora,’ and watched as the door slowly opened into the pitch, her grin widening as she felt the full impact of the realisation that she was through; she was going to Hogwarts, finally.
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I hope you liked the chapter, although I must apologise for the epically horrendous riddles I came up with. Don't forget to comment
So worth the wait! Yay!! She's finally going to Hogwarts and will get to see Fred and George! (And Harry and everyone else ) Awesome, awesome post!
I cannot wait for more!
-Rachel
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The Eighth Horcrux - Sa13+ 
They do sound like F&G! I guess it's good that only one set is like that, imagine having 2 sets of teasing twins :o I have 4 brothers and I'm the youngest, so we do fight a lot 
But it's cool having lots of siblings I guess 
Glad you enjoy reading it! Thanks 
x5
x12
