𓏲 . THE BOY WHO LIVED . .៹♡
                                                            CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
                              ─── FRIENDS DIVIDED & VERDICT DECIDED

Charlus sat there next to Harry, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at them.

He was stunned.

He felt numb.

He was surely dreaming.

He must've not heard correctly.

There was very few applause, but a prominent buzz of confusion was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Charlus and Harry as they sat, frozen, in their seats.

Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.

Charlus and Harry turned to Alistair, Ron and Hermione; beyond them, they saw the long Gryffindor table all watching them, openmouthed.

"I didn't put my name in," Harry said blankly, pleading with his eyes. "You know I didn't." "Same goes for me," Charlus said, hoping they would believe them.

The three of them stared just as blankly back. Ron looking particularly cross. At the top table, Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

 "Charlus and Harry Potter!" he called again, this time louder. "Charlus! Harry!" — his voice was distinct, but you could tell by his tone that he was incredibly worried — "Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, them both a slight push. "It'll be okay, I promise, just — just go on, Charlus,Harry."

Charlus got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. He pulled his brother up with him and they set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.

It felt like an immensely long walk; the top table didn't seem to be getting any nearer at all, and he could feel hundreds and hundreds of eyes upon him and Harry, as though each were a searchlight.

The buzzing grew louder and louder. After what seemed like an hour,  they were right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the teachers upon them

The headmaster wasn't smiling, instead he looked almost on the verge of tears, "Well... through the door, Charlus,Harry."

The young boys reluctantly moved off along the teachers' table. Hagrid was seated right at the end. He did not wink at them, or wave, or give any of his usual signs of greeting. He looked completely astonished and stared at Charlus and Harry as they passed like everyone else.

The two of them went through the door out of the Great Hall and found themselves in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite them.

The faces in the portraits turned to look at them as they entered. Charlus saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus moustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two.

Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when the Potter twins walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair. "What is it?" she said. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

"Uh, no," Charlus said, still trying to process, "we're, uh" — he paused for a moment, contemplating on whether or not to allow the words to come from his mouth — "the fourth and fifth champion..."

Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Charlus and Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Charlus to Harry and and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Charlus had said.

Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, vairy funny joke, Potter."

"I'm not —"

Suddenly, the door behind Charlus and Harry had opened. The boys turned instantly, but out of all things to expect, Alistair Black looking back at them was not one of them.

"Alistair, mate," Harry had ran over to him with his brother, "You've got to tell them that we didn't do it! We didn't put our names into the Goblet of Fire! Tell them that they've made a mistake! We don't want to do this! Tell them we don't —"

Alistair didn't know how to explain what had just happened. He just stood there, looking at the other three champions; it struck him how very tall all of them were compared to him.

There was a sound of scurrying feet behind Alistair, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took the boy by the arm and led him forward.

"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Alistair's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen... lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other five. "May I introduce — incredible though it may seem — the sixth Triwizard champion?"

Charlus's face had fallen immediately as he looked at his friend, who stood there looking completely dumbfounded.

"W-what?" he said, in an angrier tone than intended, "What the actual hell? Harry, Alistair and I are underage! Neither of us are eligible to be champions! Is this some kind of joke?"

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Alistair's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire! Just like yours and Harry's did, Charlus."

Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric, Charlus and Harry were still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned. "But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman. " 'Zey cannot compete. 'zey are too young."

"Well... it is amazing," Bagman said, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at the three young  boys. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. Their name's came out of the Goblet... I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage... It's down in the rules, you're obliged... Charlus, Harry and Alistair will have to do the best they —"

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in; Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape.

Charlus could hear the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door. "Madame Maxime!" Fleur said at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little boys is to compete also!"

Somewhere under Charlus' numb disbelief he felt a ripple of anger; and apparently, Harry and Alistair had felt the same judging by their furrowed brows — little boys?

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled. "What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," Professor Karkaroff said. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "Four Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed four champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

He gave a short and nasty laugh. "C'est impossible," Madame Maxime said, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave four champions. It is most unjust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," Karkaroff said, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but the Potters and Black's, Karkaroff," Snape saidsoftly. His black eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for their determination to break rules. They have been crossing lines ever since they arrived here —"

"There is no need to place blame, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly, and Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair.

Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at the twins, who looked right back at him, trying to discern the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles. "Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Charlus,Harry?" he asked calmly.

"No, sir," Charlus said instantly. He was very aware of everybody watching him closely. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows. "Did you two ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" Professor Dumbledore asked, ignoring Snape.

"No, sir," Harry said, vehemently. Dumbledore sighed before looking to Alistair with a raised brow,  "Alistair?" "Of course not, Professor," Alistair pleaded, "I would never —"

"Ah, but of course zey are lying!" Madame Maxime cried. Snape was now shaking his head, his lip curling.

"Like hell they are," a voice growled from the door, "The Goblet of Fire is an exceptionally powerful, magical object. Only an exceptionally, powerful wizard capable of producing an extremely strong Confundus Charm could have hoodwinked it! That would be the only thing able to bamboozle the Goblet into forgetting that only three champions, that are of age, compete in the tournament... I'm guessing someone submitted Black and Potters' names under a fourth, fifth and sixth school, to make sure they were the only ones in their category. . .Regardless, the fact still stands that magic like that is well beyond the capabilities of a couple of fourth years!"

Moody had just entered the room. He limped toward the fire, and with every right step he took, there was a loud clunk.

Karkaroff spoke up coldly, "You seemed to have given this a fair bit of thought, Moody." "It was once my job to think as dark wizards do, Karkaroff," Moody narrowed his eye, getting in Karkaroff's face, "perhaps you remember..."

"They could not have crossed the Age Line," Professor McGonagall said sharply, dismissing the potential quarrel between the two. "I am sure we are all agreed on that —"

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," Madame Maxime said, shrugging. "It is possible, of course," Dumbledore said, politely.

"Albus, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake!" Professor McGonagall saidangrily, before turning to narrow her eyes at Snape. "Really, what nonsense! Charlus,Harry and Alistair could not have crossed the line by themselves, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that they did not persuade an older student to do it for them, I'm sure that should be good enough for everybody else!"

"Mr. Crouch... Mr. Bagman," Karkaroff said, his voice unctuous once more, "you are our — er — objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"

Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.

"The rules are absolute. The Goblet of Fire constitutes a magical binding contract, like Dumbledore said before; they all are bound to compete as their names were pulled. Black and the Potters have no choice, they are champions of the Triwizard Tournament as of this moment forward."

                                    ────────⊹⊱🐍⊰⊹────────

The Great Hall was deserted now; the candles had burned low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins an eerie, flickering quality. "So," Cedric said, with a slight smile. "We're playing against each other!"

"I s'pose," Charlus said. He really couldn't think of anything to say. The inside of his head seemed to be in complete disarray, as though his brain had been ransacked.

"So...tell me..." Cedric said as they reached the entrance hall, which was now lit only by torches in the absence of the Goblet of Fire. "How did you get your names in?"

"We didn't," Harry said, staring up at him. "We didn't put it in. We were telling the truth."  "Ah... okay," Cedric said. Charlus could tell Cedric didn't believe his brother. "Well...see you, then."

Instead of going up the marble staircase, Cedric headed for a door to its right. Charlus stood listening to him going down the stone steps beyond it, then, suddenly, his brother pulled him towards the the marble ones.

Was anyone except Ron and Hermione going to believe them, or would they all think they'd put themselves in for the tournament? Yet how could anyone think that, when they were facing competitors who'd had three years' more magical education than they had - when they were now facing tasks that not only sounded very dangerous, but which were to be performed in front of hundreds of people?

Yes, Charlus had thought about it...he'd fantasized about it...but it had been a joke, really, an idle sort of dream...he'd never really, seriously considered entering....

But someone else had considered it...someone else had wanted him, his brother and his best friend in the tournament, and had made sure they entered. Why? To give them a treat? He didn't think so, somehow...

To see them make fool of themselves? Well, they were likely to get their wish....

But to get them killed?

Was Moody just being his usual paranoid self? Couldn't someone have put Charlus', Harry's and Alistair's names in the goblet as a trick, a practical joke? Did anyone really want them dead?

Charlus was able to answer that at once. Yes, someone wanted them dead...Lord Voldemort. But how could Voldemort have ensured that the boys' names got into the Goblet of Fire? Voldemort was supposed to be far away, in some distant country, in hiding, alon...feeble and powerless...

Yet in that dream he had had, just before he had awoken with his scar hurting, Voldemort had not been alone.. he had been talking to Wormtail...plotting Charlus', Harry's and Alistair's murder...

Charlus got a shock to find himself facing the Fat Lady already. He had barely noticed where his feet were carrying him. It was also a surprise to see that she was not alone in her frame. A wizened witch beside the Fat Lady. Both she and the Fat Lady were looking down at them with the keenest interest.

"Well, well, well," the Fat Lady said, "Violet's just told me everything. Who's just been chosen as school champions, then?" "Balderdash," Harry said dully.

"It most certainly isn't!" the pale witch said indignantly. "No, no, Vi, it's the password," the Fat Lady said soothingly, and she swung forwards on her hinges to let the three into the common room.

The blast of noise that met Charlus' ears when the portrait opened almost knocked him backward. Next thing he knew, he, Harry and Alistair were being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands, and were facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding, and whistling.

"You should've told us you'd entered!" Fred bellowed; he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed. "How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" George roared.

"I didn't," Charlus tried to explain. "Neither did Harry and Alistair. We don't know how —"

But Angelina had now swooped down upon them; "Oh if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor —""You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" Katie Bell shrieked. "We've got food, Charlus,Harry, Alistair, come and have some —"

"I'm not hungry, I had enough at the feast —"

But nobody wanted to hear that they weren't hungry; nobody wanted to hear that they hadn't put their name in the goblet; not one single person seemed to have noticed that they weren't at all in the mood to celebrate....

Lee Jordan had even unearthed a Gryffindor banner from somewhere, and he insisted on draping it around Harry like a cloak. They couldn't get away; whenever he or Charlus or Alistair had tried to move, the crowd around them closed ranks, forcing another butterbeer on them, stuffing crisps and peanuts into their hands.

Everyone wanted to know how they had done it, how they had tricked Dumbledore's Age Line and managed to get their names into the Goblet of Fire.

"We didn't," Alistair said, over and over again, "We don't know how it happened."

But for all the notice anyone took, he might just as well not have answered at all.

"I'm tired!" Harry bellowed finally, after nearly half an hour, but the crowd was quick to try and protest. "No, seriously, I'm going to bed —"

Harry wanted more than anything to find Ron and Hermione, to find a bit of sanity, but neither of them seemed to be in the common room.

Insisting that he needed to sleep, and almost flattening the little Creevey brothers as they attempted to grab him at the foot of the stairs, Harry managed to shake everyone off and climb up to the dormitory as fast as he could with Charlus and Alistair following closely behind him.

To their great relief, they found Ron laying on his bed in the otherwise empty dormitory, still fully dressed. He looked up when the door slammed behind his three friends.

Harry sighed, moving over to Ron, "Where've you been?" "Oh hello," Ron said, looking at Harry with quite a weird expression. He was grinning, but it was a very odd, strained sort of grin.

Harry suddenly became aware that he was still wearing the scarlet Gryffindor banner that Lee had tied around him. He hastened to take it off, but it was knotted very tightly. Ron lay on the bed without moving, watching the black-haired boy struggle to remove it.

"So," he said, when Harry had finally removed the banner and thrown it into a corner. "I suppose a congratulations is in order."

Alistair furrowed his brows. "What d'you mean, congratulations?" he asked, staring at Ron. There was definitely something wrong with the way Ron was smiling: It was more like a grimace.

"Well... no one else got across the Age Line," Ron said in a tone of disbelief. "Not even Fred and George. What did you three use — the Invisibility Cloak?" "The Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have got us over that line,"Harry said slowly, completely dumbfounded by Ron's insinuations.

"Oh right," Ron said. "I thought you might've told me if it was the cloak...because it would've covered the four of us, wouldn't it? But you found another way, did you?" "Listen," Charlus said in an annoyed tone, "We put our names in that Goblet. Someone else must've done it."

Ron raised his eyebrows, amused by the lame excuse, "What would they do that for?" "I dunno," Harry said. He felt it would sound very melodramatic to say, "To kill us."

Ron's eyebrows rose so high that they were in danger of disappearing into his hair.

"It's okay, you know, you can tell me the truth, I am supposed to be your friend after all," he said, narrowing his eyes. "If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you three are bothering to lie... you didn't get into trouble for it, did you? The portraits have been talking, they already told us all that Dumbledore's letting  you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-year tests either..."

"We didn't put our names in that Goblet!" Charlus shouted ; he was starting to get angry.

"Yeah, okay," Ron said, in exactly the same sceptical tone as Cedric. "Only you said this morning you'd have done it last night, and no one would've seen you....I'm not stupid, you know."

Harry snapped, "Well, you're doing a really good impression of it."

"Yeah?" Ron said, and there was no trace of a grin, forced or otherwise, on his face now. "Shouldn't you three be getting to bed? I expect you'll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something."

"You are quite literally the definition of an idiot," Alistair sneered, "you're being absolutely ridiculous! Why would we want to participate in something where we could die?!"

"Who bloody cares about your reasoning?!" Ron shouted, "I know you three put your names in that Goblet, who else would've? What makes me mad is that you failed to mention your plan to me! I thought we were friends!"

"A friend wouldn't accuse us of lying!" "But you are —" "We are not! Once again — you're being stupid!" "Yeah, that's right. Charlus and Harry Potter and Alistair Black's stupid friend! That's all I am!"

"We didn't put our names in that cup." Harry eplied, "We don't want eternal glory. Look we don't know what happened tonight and neither of us know why, it just did, okay."

 Ron growled, "Piss off." "With pleasure," Charlus sneered before he turned on his heel, and left the room.

As he reached the Gryffindor common room again, everyone was still continuing to party. Charlus  tried to slip through the crowd unnoticed, but that didn't seem to go over well. When they caught sight of him, they immediately started shouting:

"Charlus! Welcome back to the party!"

"I still wanna know how you got your name in the Goblet!"

"Charlus Potter, the fourth Champion! There he is!"

"Over here, Charlus! Come over here!"

But he ignored all of them. Charlus simply kept his head down as he pushed past his angsty fans and moved back through the portrait hole without looking back.

Charlus didn't know what to say, do or think as he set off for the Slytherin Dungeon. He was completely confused by the events that had taken place that day.

First, he, Harry and Alistair were chosen to partake in some potentially fatal tournament, causing half of their classmates to love them and half of them to hate them, and now, Ron Weasley, one of the few people Charlus thought would believe their story, had turned on them.

He was angry that Ron didn't trust them.

                                     ────────⊹⊱🐍⊰⊹────────

When Charlus woke up on Sunday morning, it took him a moment to remember why he felt so miserable and worried. Then the memory of the previous night rolled over him. Sighing, he ripped off the duvet covering most of his body and sat up.

Charlus dressed and went down the spiral staircase into the Slytherin common room. The moment he appeared, the people who had already finished breakfast glared at him.

The prospect of going down into the Great Hall and facing the rest of the Slytherins, all hating him as usual, and the Gryffindors, all treating him like some sort of hero, was not inviting. He walked resolutely over to the portrait hole, pushed it open, climbed out of it, and found himself face-to-face with Hermione, Alistair and Harry.

"Mornin'," Hermione said, holding up the stack of toast, which she was carrying in a napkin. "I brought you this. Figured you didn't want to eat with a bunch of people glaring at you." "Thanks, Mione," Charlus said.

"Want to go for a walk?" Alistair asked. "Good idea," Charlus said gratefully.

They went upstairs, crossed the entrance hall quickly without looking in at the Great Hall, and were soon striding across the lawn toward the lake, where the Durmstrang ship was moored, reflected blackly in the water.

It was a chilly morning, and they kept moving, munching their toast, as Harry told Hermione exactly what had happened after he, Charlus and Alistair had left the Gryffindor table the night before. To his immense relief, Hermione accepted their story without question.

"Well, of course I knew you that the three of you hadn't entered yourself," she said when he'd finished telling her about the scene in the chamber off the Hall. "The look on your faces when Dumbledore read out your names! But the question is, who did put it in? Because Moody's right... I don't think any student could have done it... they'd never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore's —"

"Have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupted. Hermione hesitated. "Erm... yes... he was at breakfast," she said.

"Does he still think we entered ourselves?" "Well... no, I don't think so... not really," Hermione said awkwardly. Charlus raised a brow, "What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?"

 "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Hermione said despairingly. "He's jealous!" "Jealous?" Harry said incredulously. "Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?"

"Look," Hermione said patiently, "it's always you three who get all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously. "I know you don't ask for it... but — well — you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and then there's the three of you, who are really famous — he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you three, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many..."

 "Great," Harry said bitterly. "Really great." "Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants," Charlus growled." Tell him from me he's welcome to it....People gawping at our foreheads everywhere we go...."

"Tell Ronald that I didn't choose to be famous, alright? Blame my uncles and —" "—I'm not telling him anything," Hermione interrupted. "Tell him yourselves. It's the only way to sort this out."

"We're not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" Harry said, so loudly that several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm. Charlus tried to joke, "Maybe he'll believe that we're not enjoying ourselves once we've broken our necks or —"

"That's not funny," Hermione said quietly. "That's not funny at all." She looked extremely anxious. "Charlus, Harry, Alistair, I've been thinking — you guys' know what we've got to do, don't you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?"

"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the —" Alistair muttered but quickly went quiet with a look from Hermione.

"Write to Sirius and Daniel. One of you has got to tell them what's happened. They asked you three to keep them posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts... it's almost like they expected something like this to happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out with me—"

"Come off it," Harry said and looked around to check that they couldn't be overheard, but the grounds were quite deserted. "Hermione," Charlus said, "They came back to the country just because our scars twinged. They 'll probably come bursting right into the castle if we tell them someone's entered us in the Triwizard Tournament —"

"They'd want you three to tell them," Hermione said sternly. "They're going to find out anyway —"

"How?" Charlus and Harry asked. "They're my uncles, I'll end up writing to them at some point," Alistair said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Charlus, Harry, this isn't going to be kept quiet," Hermione said, very seriously. "This tournament's famous, and you two are famous. I'll be really surprised if there isn't anything in the Daily Prophet about you two competing....You're already in half the books about You- Know-Who, you know ...and Sirius and Daniel would rather hear it from you, I know they would."

"Okay, okay, we'll write to them," Harry said, throwing his last piece of toast into the lake. The four of them stood and watched it floating there for a moment, before a large tentacle rose out of the water and scooped it beneath the surface. Then they returned to the castle.

                                   ────────⊹⊱🐍⊰⊹───────

The next few days were some of Charlus' worst at Hogwarts. He hadn't spoken to Ron in days, so he pretty much preoccupied himself by spending time with Harry and Alistair. However, that didn't seem to go over well, as seeing the three of them together only made things all the more suspicious about the wavering idea of whether or not they put their own names in the Goblet.

They were the victims of many accusations. Charlus expected nothing less than vicious insults from the other Slytherins, but the Hufflepuffs had turned remarkably cold towards the three. Whereas most Ravenclaws seemed to think that they had been desperate to earn themselves a bit more fame by tricking the Goblet into accepting their names.

Meanwhile there was no reply from Sirius and Daniel , Phoenix was refusing to come anywhere near him, and despite the support from Hermione and a couple of Gryffindors, it was lonely, with dislike pouring in on him from all sides.

When Charlus arrived at Snape's dungeon after lunch with Harry,  Alistair and Hermione for Double Potions one day, they found the Slytherins waiting outside, each and every one of them wearing a large badge on the front of his or her robes.

 For one wild moment Charlus thought they were S.P.E.W. badges — then he saw that they all bore the same message, in luminous red letters that burnt brightly in the dimly lit underground passage:

SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY —

THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

"Like them, Potters, Black?" Malfoy loudly as they approached. "And this isn't all they do — look!"

He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed blue:

BLACK SUCKS!

Then, with another press, the message vanished once again, and was replaced by another one, this time, glowing green:

THE POTTERS STINKS!

The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressing their badges, causing the corridor to glow blue and green. Charlus felt the heat rise in his face and neck.

"Oh, very funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, as she walked down the corridor at the most opportune time, "really witty."

Ron was down the hall with Dean and Seamus. He wasn't laughing, but he wasn't sticking up for Charlus, Harry and Alistair either.

"Want one, Granger?" Malfoy said, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

All the anger Charlus had been feeling for days and days seemed to burst through a dam in his chest. He had reached for his wand before he'd thought what he was doing. People all around them scrambled out of the way, backing down the corridor.

"Charlus!" Hermione said warningly. She tried to grab his arm to stop him from doing something stupid but he yanked it back.

"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, drawing out his own wand, appearing confident. "Moody's not here to look after you now — do it, if you've got the guts —"

For a moment, they looked into each other's eyes, nothing happened, but that didn't last for long as the two Slytherin boys acted at the same time. "Furnunculus!" Charlus yelled. "Densaugeo!" Malfoy shouted.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles — Charlus' hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up — Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.

"Hermione!"

Ron and Alistair had hurried forward to see what was wrong with her; Charlus turned and saw Ron dragging Hermione's hand away from her face. It wasn't a pretty sight.

Hermione's front teeth — already larger than average — were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin — panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

"And what is all this noise about?" a soft, deadly voice said. Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir —"

Charlus scoffed, "We attacked each other at the same time, you vermin!"

"— and he hit Goyle — look —"

Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi. "Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.

 "Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!"

He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth — she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back.

Charlus glared and snarled a quiet hex, aiming it at Parkinson. Her nose instantly elongated and turned a bright shade of green, resembling a parrot's beak.

Parkinson screamed and she and her friends rapidly walked away, covering Pansy's  nose as they made their way towards the hospital wing, shouting some empty threats at Charlus as they did.

"A detention for you seems fit, Potter," Snape said, having caught Charlus' doing but the boy merely shrugged. The Professor then looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight. Charlus took one step in her direction but Snape's icy voice stopped him, "Not so fast, Potter."

It was lucky, perhaps, that Harry, Alistair and Ron started shouting at Snape at the same time; lucky their voices echoed so much in the stone corridor, for in the confused din, it was impossible for him to hear exactly what they were calling him. Charlus' was slightly clearer, and Snape could rather clearly hear the obscenities he was yelling.

"Let's see," he said, in his silkiest voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin and a detention each for the Potters, Weasley, and Black. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."

━━ AUTHORS NOTE

A bit of a slower chapter.

Well, what's your favourite fictional couple? me: definitely Padme and Anakin from Star Wars( or Charmione 😉 imfao )

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Please, don't forget to vote and share if you do, and if you want, comment too ! I'd really appreciate it <3

Thank you for reading this far.

Until next time, much love to you all!