The day of the first Triwizard task finally arrives, and the entire castle is buzzing with barely contained anticipation. Huge crowds of students and spectators make their way down to the large arena after lunch, flashing colourful badges and chanting the names of their chosen champions. Katie had been kind enough to invite Marjorie to come down and watch the first challenge with her, Angelina, and Alicia. As much as Majorie dearly loves her cousin, she had accepted the offer eagerly; Neville was good company, but she's sure that he'll be happy to stand with his own dorm mates.

"Merlin, Marjorie, did you eat anything today?" Angelina asks, peering into Marjorie's face. "You look like you're about to keel over!"

"I'm, er- I'm a bit nervous!" Marjorie admits, her hands trembling as she looks out over the arena. She's so terrified on behalf of the champions that she feels as though she might vomit all over the people in the row in front of them.

"Alright, everyone?" A cheerful voice calls from behind them as Lee Jordan drops into a bench in the row just behind them. "Blimey, Marjorie, you look as though you're the that's about to face a dragon!"

"Dragon?" Marjorie squeaks, horrified.

Lee nods, "Saw them this morning. Four of them, big and scaley and mean-looking. One for each champion, looks like."

No wonder Harry looked as though he hadn't slept in days, Marjorie thinks to herself. He must have known! Her sympathy for him sky-rockets; he's only fourteen, and they want him to fight a dragon? She thinks of Neville being forced into the same position and feels her knees go weak.

Apparently oblivious to Marjorie's internal crisis, Alicia says to Lee, "Oi, where are Fred and George?"

"Oh, uh," Lee says evasively, suddenly looking a little shifty. "They're around. Had to go and talk to someone first, but they'll meet us here."

"Talk to who?" Alicia presses, but Marjorie's attention is abruptly averted as she catches sight of a head of thick, bushy hair sat right in front of her.

"Hermione?" Marjorie asks, patting at her shoulder.

When the younger girl turns around, Marjorie sees that her face looks completely bloodless. "Oh, hello!" She says weakly. She looks as dreadfully nervous as Marjorie feels. "Um. Looking forward to the task?"

"No." Marjorie confesses, leaning forward. "I think I might be sick, actually. Is it true that there's dragons?"

"Yes." Hermione takes a deep breath to calm herself, although it doesn't look like it works particularly well. "Awful, isn't it?"

"Is- well, is Harry going to be okay?"

Hermione looks as though she's about to bite clean through her lip, and her eyes fill with tears. "I don't know!" She whispers, agonised. "Oh, I'm so worried-!"

Marjorie feels a ball of thick, choking dread begin to pool in her stomach, almost like a sympathetic response to Hermione's anguish. "He'll do fine," Marjorie says, trying to sound confident. "'Course he will. They couldn't allow this Tournament to go ahead if there was any chance of it endangering school kids, right?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Hermione dries her eyes hastily. "I expect Dumbledore knows what he's doing."

Marjorie nods as she sits back, though she remains largely unconvinced. She just can't get over her anxiety. And though Hermione nods heartily, her nerves don't appear to have abated any either. From beside her, Ron Weasley has remained completely silent through the whole conversation; he gazes into the arena with a complicated expression on his face, eyes dark.

By the time the twins finally arrive, Ludo Bagman has begun to announce the beginning of the task. They appear to be in bad humour, scowls etched deep into their foreheads as they immediately begin whispering with Lee upon their arrival. Marjorie hardly notices; her attention, like the attention of everyone else in the arena, is fixed on the group of well-built, burly men tugging on enormously thick ropes -- at the end of the ropes is unmistakably a dragon.

Marjorie damn near faints on the spot, her gaze drawn inexorably to the dagger-like claws and enormous teeth, the tough scaley hide, the spikes running down it's bright green back. "Holy sh-"

"Is that Charlie Weasley?" Katie interrupts, practically throwing herself forward for a closer look at the men leading the dragon into the rocky landscape of the arena.

"Where?!" Angelina and Alicia begin craning their necks eagerly.

"Oi!" George says from behind them, sounding miffed. "There's a great big dirty dragon in front of us, and all you lot want to look at is our brother?"

George goes completely ignored, Angelina turning instead to elbow Marjorie and say "Look, Marjorie, that's him over there! Didn't I tell you he was gorgeous!"

The twins begin making over-the-top retching noises, but Marjorie's gaze has finally landed on Charlie Weasley and she actually feels her jaw drop. The man isn't nearly as tall as Fred and George, but he's broad-chested and his biceps are probably bigger than Marjorie's head. His skin is deeply tanned, with constellations of freckles spanning across the bare skin of his arms. With flaming red hair and a chiselled jawline that can be seen from the stands, Charlie Weasley would be a very striking man even if his extremely well-defined musculature wasn't being perfectly showcased by his repetitive tugging on the dragon's restraints.

"Oh- he's, well, he's very-! Wow." Marjorie clears her throat, flustered. Behind her, Fred and George stop their fake-retching in favour of cracking up laughing at her reaction, which only flusters her further.

"Oi, that's our brother you're objectifying, Longbottom!" Fred yells in a carrying voice, and people in the surrounding rows begin to turn towards them as Marjorie sinks down into her cloak.

Once the handlers have situated the dragon in the middle of the arena they retreat, and very shortly after Ludo Bagman shouts out Cedric's introduction to the frenzied crowd and a figure appears from the Champion's tent and enters the arena. From this distance, Cedric looks terrifyingly small against the bulk of the dragon, and the egg he's meant to receive glints tauntingly from between those deadly clawed toes. The crowd collectively holds their breath as he approaches the centre of the arena, waiting on tenterhooks to see what he's planning on doing next. Though he's pale, he seems confident as he readies his wand -- Marjorie feels quite certain that if she was in front of a dragon, with those enormous amber eyes staring her down like that, she would probably just wet herself. Or vomit. Or pass out. Most likely all three, in that exact order.

"What's he doing, then?" Katie murmurs, standing on her toes for a better look.

Cedric is pointing his wand in the dragon's direction, but he doesn't actually seem to be aiming at the dragon. Rather, he seems to be aiming at a large boulder just to the left of the beast. In a rather impressive feat of spell-work, he transfigures the boulder into a large golden Labrador which begins barking up at the dragon rather aggressively.

"Oooh, he's trying to distract it!" Alicia breathes quietly, as though worried the dragon might overhear her.

For a moment, it seems to work -- the dragon takes several lumbering steps after the dog, clearing the way for Cedric to get to the Golden Egg. He's only just managed to reach it, however, when the dragon seems to lose interest in the dog and lunges back towards Cedric with a roar as fire sprays from its maw.

Marjorie shrieks and snatches at Angelina's arm, who has clapped her hands over her mouth, but then the tension breaks as Bagman cries out Diggory's victory and the crowd begins to go wild once more. Diggory grins at the crowd as he clutches at the Egg one-handed; the other arm appears to have a rather nasty burn.

"GO ON, DIGGORY!" Katie roars, hopping on the spot like a demented rabbit, "NICE ONE!"

"Oi, whose side are you on!" Fred asks indignantly, offering up a round of half-hearted applause.

"Oh, shove off," Alicia says distractedly, eyes darting to Charlie Weasley as the dragon handlers return to swap out the dragons, "We're obviously going to be cheering for Harry, too."

"Yeah, they're both Hogwarts champions, knobhead!" Angelina laughs without looking back.

Marjorie watches as little of the next two champions as possible -- not down to lack of interest or any lack of talent from the champions, but rather because she really does think that all the knife-edge danger is going to give her a panic attack. She catches glimpses of their performances through the gaps in her fingers, and what little she sees certainly seems impressive.

Finally, it's Harry's turn. The dragon they lead out for him looks bigger and even more ferocious than all the other ones combined; Lee Jordan gives a low, admiring whistle at the sight of it. "Blimey." He says softly, "That's a Hungarian Horntail!"

The name means nothing to Marjorie, but it doesn't have to-- she can tell just from the look of it that Harry seems to have drawn the short straw in terms of dragon opponents. All around her the crowd begins murmuring; Harry's reputation and name precedes him, and everyone is eager to see how he fares.

When Harry steps out into the arena, Marjorie feels like she might burst into tears. All of the champions had looked small when faced with the bulk of their dragons, but Harry is by far the smallest. He looks so painfully young, visibly swallowing back his nerves as he stares down the enormous beast in front of him.

"Come on, Harry!" Fred roars, and his call is picked up and echoed by several in the crowd.

Harry begins to take several cautious steps forward, under the vicious yellow eyes of the Hungarian Horntail. After a moment of indecision he raises his wand and casts a spell, though he's far enough away that the incantation is inaudible.

"What did he say?" Angelina demands, clutching at her scarf. As much as she had been teasing Marjorie earlier for her nerves, she looks distinctly weak herself.

Harry's plan reveals itself in mere moments, however, as his Firebolt hurtles over the top of the arena and into his waiting hands. Just in time, too, as the Horntail has apparently tired of waiting for Harry to make the first move, and readies herself to attack. Harry launches himself onto his broom and takes to the sky as the Horntail lunges after him.

"He's going to be killed!" Marjorie panics, barely able to bring herself to peek through her fingers.

"Don't worry, Marjie, Harry's not going to go down easy." Fred assures her, though he doesn't sound all that relaxed himself. Marjorie is so anxious that she can't even bring herself to take issue with the nickname.

"How is this ethical?" She wails, flinching as the dragon lashes its spiked tail in Harry's direction and causes him to roll midair.

The crowd roars and cheers and winces with every move Harry makes as he struggles to draw the dragon away from the egg. Hermione is howling advice that Harry has no chance of hearing, her cries carried away by the distance and the noise from the other spectators. Even Ron seems to have forgotten whatever disagreement had torn him and Harry apart for the past several weeks; he's roaring so fervently in support of Harry that his hat has been knocked askew and his face is turning puce.

The dragon rears up, spreads its leathery wings, and launches itself up in pursuit of Harry. As its great fanged mouth opens wide, Harry dives towards the eggs, hand outstretched. The crowd takes a collective intake of breath and then releases it in a great collective howl of celebration as Harry snatches the Golden Egg right from under the dragon.

"He's done it, he's done it, he's done it!" The boys chant behind them, near mindless with glee as the girls practically stagger into each other with relief.

"If the rest of the tournament is like that, I think my heart will give out!" Marjorie cries, though her voice is drowned out by the roaring cheers of the crowd.

The party in Gryffindor tower that night is nothing short of wild.

Marjorie, who has never been to a party before, is quickly overwhelmed by the number of people and the drinks and the cheering and the snacks. Fred and George not only appear to have raided the kitchens, but also have managed to source six large bottles of Firewhiskey, which they're handing out with great enthusiasm as they roar toasts to Harry's name. Harry himself sits pride of place in the centre of the common room, looking positively exhausted but grinning at the festivities all the same. He must be fit to fall over from tiredness, but seems to be holding himself together with sheer determined stubbornness since Ron came to sit with him, their disagreement apparently put behind them.

Marjorie has never had Firewhiskey before, but as she sat there with her legs tucked under her on the couch surrounded by the girls, she felt brave enough to give it a go. Now, she finds her head rested on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling as her head spins and her throat burns. It's not necessarily an unpleasant feeling, but it's unfamiliar and Marjorie isn't used to feeling like a stranger in her own head. She thinks she might be a little drunk.

"That was some unbelievable flying!" Katie is shouting; the Firewhiskey appears to have made her temporarily deaf, as she keeps getting progressively louder and louder the more she drinks, blissfully unaware of her own volume. "Just incredible! I think the spectacle of that alone might actually make up for the lack of Quidditch this year!"

Angelina boos loudly, shaking her head so vehemently she appears to make herself dizzy. "The audacity-! I'm telling Oliver you said that!" She turns and catches sight of Oliver Wood, who's nursing a butterbeer in the corner and chatting exuberantly with another Gryffindor seventh year. "Oliver! You'll never guess what Katie's just- umph!"

Angelina is unceremoniously cut off as Katie launches herself across the couch to cover her mouth with a hand -- the Firewhiskey has impaired her co-ordination, apparently, as she ends up accidentally punching Angelina right across the jaw. Marjorie watches, wide-eyed, and clutches her cup to her chest as Angelina roars a battle-cry and tackles Katie to the ground. Alicia sips on her butterbeer and watches with an expression of great interest, as though the girls brawling on the floor of the common room was commonplace.

Though she's sure no one can hear her, Marjorie says "Er- I think I'm going to find Neville!" and hastily gets up from the couch. It's only once she's on her feet, however, that her head begins to truly swim. Powering through, she peers around the crowded room and just manages to catch sight of Neville chatting with Seamus.

The trip across the common room is unexpectedly perilous, with Marjorie just barely managing to avoid the stray elbows that keep swinging her way and the people that seem determined to trod on her toes. She's made it almost half-way there before she's waylaid; an arm is thrown around her shoulders as she's whirled around, and it takes her a disorienting moment before she realises that she's looking into the face of Fred.

"More Firewhiskey, Marjie?" He asks cheerfully, brandishing a bottle that's still just over half-full.

"Er-" Marjorie knows she really shouldn't have any more, but before she can come up with a polite refusal Fred has already refilled her cup. "Oh, thank you."

"Enjoying the party?"

"It's very nice," Marjorie smiles, struggling to hide her wince as she sips on her Firewhiskey. "I've never had Firewhiskey before -- I'm still not sure if I like it or not."

"Really?" Fred grins, spinning the bottle in his hands, "You're a Firewhiskey virgin?"

Marjorie's face goes up in flames as she chokes on her Firewhiskey, mortified. She coughs and splutters, only getting more flustered as Fred starts to laugh. "Don't- don't say it like that!" She manages to choke out.

Fred only laughs harder. His nose crinkles up when he laughs, and Marjorie finds herself fixated on that tiny detail in her drunken state. "Nothing to be ashamed of," He says, still chuckling, "Glad I could give you your first."

Marjorie is sweating both from the heat of her embarrassment and from the crowded room. "I think I need some air." She says, stepping away and planning on beating a hasty retreat.

"Oh? I'll go with you, I could use some myself."

After a brief hesitation, Marjorie nods and leads the way out of the common room. She's definitely tipsy, and can feel herself weaving as she picks her way through the crowd of people. At one stage she bumps into someone's back and ricochets into Fred's chest, but he just waves off her apologies with a laugh and pushes her forward towards the portrait hole. By the time they finally climb out and the Fat Lady swings shut behind them, Marjorie is feeling a little light-headed.

"You alright?" Fred carefully pulls the cup from her grasp as she leans against the wall, oblivious to the way the Fat Lady eyes them both suspiciously.

"Mhm."

"Going to be sick?"

"No." Marjorie mumbles, then reconsiders with a frown. "I don't know."

"Alright, take it easy." Fred says, more gently than she would have expected from him. "Have you eaten?"

"Not since breakfast," Marjorie confesses, tilting her head back and marveling at the portraits above her, who are eyeing her right back with mingled curiosity and disapproval, "I was too nervous."

"Alright, come on then," Fred says, very obviously trying to bite back a grin. "George has gone back down to the kitchens to get more food; why don't we meet him there?"

"Don't laugh at me!" Marjorie whines even as he begins to guide her down the corridor, "I don't like it when people laugh at me!"

"Alright, alright," He agrees easily, clearly with no intention of keeping that promise. "Come on, quickly. McGonagall will do her nut in if she finds us."

Marjorie follows along obediently, right up until they reach one of the moving staircases. She stops dead at the top, staring wide-eyed at Fred. "What are you doing?"

"What?" He pauses a step below her to squint at her. Even with Marjorie a step up, he's considerably taller than her. "What are you talking about, let's go."

"You're going to throw me down the stairs." Marjorie takes a cautious step back, her tipsy mind running in great circles.

"I'm going to what?" Fred asks exasperatedly, peering around as though expecting Filch to pop out from around a corner any second.  He takes her hand and tugs at it. "Why would I do that? Come on, Longbottom, quickly-"

Slowly and mistrustfully, Marjorie allows him to pull her down the staircase.  Once they reach the bottom Fred begins to move swiftly, practically hauling her along as they venture into a part of the castle Marjorie has never been before. She gazes around curiously, much to Fred's exasperation as he tries to hurry her along; they must be near the heart of the castle, as the stone halls are comfortably warm and hung with colourful tapestries. They pass several nooks and crannies filled with candles, busts of long-forgotten faces, and intricate suits of armour. Marjorie peers into one nook as they pass and jerks back, startled, at the sight of a woman's face staring blankly back at her. Fred pulls her on, oblivious, and when she throws a look over her shoulder she finds no one in sight.

It feels as though it takes ages, but eventually they come to a stop in front of a large square painting of a bowl of fruit. Marjorie stares at it blankly, her thoughts slow and hazy. "Um-?" She begins, but falls silent as Fred reaches out and tickles the painted pear with two fingers.

The pear giggles coquettishly, and promptly turns into a large green doorknob. Fred chuckles at the astonishment that is plainly written across Marjorie's face. "Well, in you go then." He says, opening the door and dropping into a mock bow.

Marjorie shuffles forward and feels her mouth drop open as they enter the kitchens; the high-ceilinged room is enormous, clearly made to mirror the Great Hall just above it. Five identical tables are set out just like the House tables in the Hall, and at each one there are dozens of house elves working away. Brass pots and pans and cookware are heaped on shelves and stoves around the room, and a large open fire crackles on the far side of the room.

"Master Wheezy!"

Several house elves have noticed their arrival, and Marjorie watches with wide eyes as they hurry forward with large excited smiles to greet them. "Hullo, hullo," Fred says cheerfully, beaming back at them as they crowd around the two of them. "How are we? My friend Marjie here is feeling a little peaky, I was wondering if you might have something for her to nibble on?"  He needn't have even finished his sentence -- before he was even halfway finished speaking, several house elves had gone scampering off to help. Fred watches them go fondly, before craning his neck to look around the room. "Let's see, where's- Ah! There he is."

George is lounging by the fire, helping the house-elves wrap up a basket full of snacks and desserts. When he spots them, his eyebrows raise so high they practically disappear into his hair. "What's this, then?" He asks, beginning to grin when he sees Marjorie stumble a little into one of the tables. "Uh oh. Too much Firewhiskey?"

"It's my fault," Fred laments in an overly-dramatic voice, "I went too fast, and it was only her first time."

"Her first time?" George adopts the same mournful tone as his twin without missing a beat, "Ah, bless her."

"You said you wouldn't laugh at me!" Marjorie protests as the twins begin to chuckle together.

"Sorry, love, couldn't resist." Fred says cheerfully, completely unconcerned by the scowl growing on Marjorie's face.

"Maybe you should sit down, eh?" George asks, standing up and gesturing at his stool.

A house elf runs up to them carrying an enormous tray of scones over her head, stopping just in front of Marjorie and peering up at her. "Food for Miss Marjie!" She squeaks, glancing between the three of them with enormous brown eyes.

"Oh, wow," Marjorie breathes, staring at the elf, "You're so cute. She's so cute," She says to Fred and George, pointing out the elf in case they missed her. To the elf, she says, "Hello! What's your name?"

"I am Dizzy, miss!"

"Oh, I am too, a little." Marjorie confesses, falling into George's vacated stool in front of the fire. She nearly overbalances, because the stool is very small (clearly designed for someone of a house-elf's stature), but she manages to regain her balance just in time. George starts snickering and turns away in a weak attempt to hide it, but Marjorie doesn't notice; Dizzy has just presented the tray to her, and she carefully picks out a freshly-baked scone still warm from the oven. "Thank you, Dizzy, I love you."

Dizzy looks startled but pleased by this drunken declaration. "Dizzy is happy to help, miss!"

Fred and George share a look and then turn swiftly away from one another. "So," says George, his voice choked with poorly suppressed laughter. "Did the party get boring?"

"Nah, Marjorie just needed some air. Figured some food would do her some good, too. Plus, you were taking ages."

"They were just wrapping the food for me!" George protests indignantly, "As if you'd be any faster!"

"Angelina and Katie were fighting on the common room floor." Marjorie says around a mouthful of scone, a step behind in the conversation.

The twins both swung around to look at her. "They got into a fistfight and we missed it?"

"Mhm."

"Who was winning?" Fred demands.

"Dunno." Marjorie swallows her mouthful of scone and finds herself wishing for a glass of water. No sooner has the thought crossed her mind does Dizzy appear, carrying a quaint little tea set. "Oh, thank you!"

"My money's on Angelina." says George as he reaches for a cup of tea for himself.

"Oh yeah?" Fred smirks, "Three sickles?"

"You're on."

Marjorie ignores them, still gazing enraptured at the house elves. There's just so many of them, with their floppy pointed ears and enormous bulbous eyes and spindly little limbs. They're not really cute, but they just seem so innocent and eager to help that Marjorie feels her heart squeeze whenever she looks at them. "I love them!" She whispers to herself, but of course the twins hear too.

"Alright, alright, we should probably get you to bed." George says, reaching down to help her back to her feet. "The girls must be looking for you now."

Marjorie doubts it, somehow, but sets the tea down and allows George to haul her up. She's a little wobbly on her feet still, but the scones and tea have definitely done wonders for clearing her mind; at the very least, she's now clear-headed enough to begin to feel embarrassed. The house elves follow them to the door, pressing extra packages of food into the already overflowing basket in George's arms.

"Goodbye! Goodnight!" Marjorie says eagerly to the elves, beaming as they shake her hand and wave all three of them into the corridor. By the time the kitchen door swings shut behind them, her Firewhiskey-induced nausea has disappeared and been replaced with a good-natured fatigue. "Oh, that was wonderful!"

"Yeah?" George grins, sharing a look with Fred over her head. "Don't think I've ever seen anyone so happy to see a house elf."

The boys each take one of her arms and begin leading her right back the way they had come. The journey back to the common room is much faster this time; though the twins are cautious every time they round corners and are very vigilant about being caught, they move through the halls with an ease that clearly comes from years of experience traversing the castle at night. Marjorie really doesn't think that it's necessary for them to both be physically leading her along the way, but she doesn't bother to put up a fuss about it.

By the time they reach the common room and climb in through the portrait hole, the party seems to be winding down a little though there are still dozens of students in various states of inebriation keeping up the celebrations. There's a round of cheers when the twins reappear, George hoisting up the basket of food triumphantly for everyone to see.

They've barely even stepped into the room properly before Alicia comes barrelling over, almost tripping over the rug on her way. "There you are!" She exclaims, grasping for Marjorie's arm. "We've been so worried! The girls thought they'd frightened you away with their fighting!"

"Oh." Marjorie says, a little mollified by her concern. "Really?"

"Just took her out for a bit of air, Spinnet, nothing to worry about." Fred says airily, patting Marjorie on the shoulder before nudging George. "Ready to get this party restarted, George?"

"When you are, Fred."

"Goodnight, ladies!" They say in unison, and march off into the centre of the common room to pass out snacks and unstopper yet another bottle of Firewhiskey.

Alicia watches them go, then looks back to Marjorie with wide eyes. "What was that all about?"

"Hm?" Marjorie yawns; all of the adrenaline and the nerves from today are beginning to catch up with her, and the buzz from the Firewhiskey is beginning to make her feel unbearably sleepy. "All what?"

Alicia looks at her appraisingly, although as she's still quite tipsy herself she just ends up squinting oddly at her. "We'll talk about it tomorrow." She says, trying to sound firm but slurring a little. "Let's get to bed."

A/N:
I just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who took the time to comment/vote on this story! It makes me so happy and excited to see people are enjoying it!