ㅤ

━ ❦ ━
chapter 2. a chance at glory
word count: 3839

LIGHTNING flashed across the sky. Carriages pulled up to a stop in front of the great oak doors of Hogwarts Castle, situated at the peak of a set of stone steps. The occupants of the preceding carriages were already making their way up to the castle, scurrying up the stone steps.

Blake, Daphne, Blaise, and Theodore arrived together. The two boys tried to dry themselves like other students, whereas Astoria went off to look for her friends. The group walked forward and narrowly missed the water bombs of Peeves the Poltergeist.

"Peeves, get down here NOW!" yelled an angry voice. Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House straightened her pointed hat and glared upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing another water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall.

Blake's group moved to the side, away from the soaked heads and uniforms of other students. After several more yells and threats, Peeves stuck his tongue out, zooming off up the marble staircase.

"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

"Finally," miffed Daphne, strands of her pearl blonde hair turning darker as it was damp.

As the start-of-term feast commenced, the Great Hall appeared as magnificent as ever, adorned with exquisite decorations. Shimmering golden plates and goblets reflected the glow emanating from an abundance of candles hovering in midair above the tables. The four lengthy tables, designated for each Hogwarts house, were occupied by talkative students, while the staff sat at a fifth table located at the Hall's pinnacle, facing their pupils. The temperature inside the Great Hall was considerably much warmer than outside.

"I'll look for Draco," said Blake as her eyes scanned the Slytherin table. The rest of the group looked at each other before following along.

"So, pray to tell Blake, why do you always go to Draco?" inquired Theodore as they were walking, "He stole you from us for the whole summer."

Blake furrowed her eyebrows, taking a glance at Daphne who gave her a complacent smile. "That's the second time today, it's not like I'm always with him you know."

"True, but you do cling to him." Blaise chimed in.

"You want the definition of clingy? Look ahead."

The group faces forward to find Crabbe, Goyle, and a love-struck Pansy stuck to Draco's side, already seated.

"Besides, I don't cling to people," Blake scrunched up her nose. "If anything, I'm just protective of Draco."

"What bloody protection does Draco need though?" asked Theodore, slowly contemplating what he said. "Not what I meant."

Daphne rolled her eyes and linked arms with Blake.

"Thought nothing of it." snickered Blaise, then continued; "But really, I'm sure Malfoy can at least handle himself."

Blake raised a brow at him.

"Alright last year, he was a bit of a dumbarse..." recalled  Blaise. "But he has Crabbe and Goyle to be his- err- loyal henchmen."

"To be honest, he did ruin our time with the Hippogriff in that one class." shared Daphne, "Can't say anything else about that though or I may be getting into trouble."

"Now can't you see I have to keep an eye on him?" Blake sighed. "I have to stop him from his own carelessness at least, not to mention how he even had a broken nose—"

"Oh right! I nearly forgot about that," exclaimed Theodore. "I heard Granger was the one who did that, didn't she? Salazar, I would've tolerated that girl if I knew she had that side to her."

"Please don't jest, Theo," Blake rolled her eyes. "She's nothing more than a hindrance, already taking up the top spots in other courses, now adding Draco's damages and grievances to the mix of it all."

"Says the one who was all sunshine and roses with her earlier."

Upon seeing Blake's reaction, Daphne placed her hand on the girl's arm in an effort to comfort her. The blonde sighs again and silently thanks Daphne.

The group got a spot near Draco's group, although it seems that the boy was busy showing off many items he bought during the summer to even notice them.

"So much for you seeking him out," muttered Theodore, luckily none had heard him.

"Well speaking of Granger," Blaise put off before sitting. "There she is right now."

Just a few tables and spaces away sat the famous trio, all seemingly in light conversation while inspecting the tables in front where the professors sit.

The blonde somehow managed to catch the brunette's gaze for a mere second. Hermione quickly looked away with a bit of distress on her face.

"Is it me or does Granger actually look decent today?" Theodore began, "I didn't get a good look at her earlier, but now..."

"Theodore, you can't be serious!" Daphne looked at him, perplexed.

"I was kidding!" he chucked, hands in front of him. "As if I can be with a Muggle-born, wouldn't want the common blood mixed in with ours now, do we?"

"Well, either way, stay clear Theo. She's not the best, but she isn't the worst either," responded Blake, as she stared ahead in front of her, laying her eyes on the back of the brunette's head. "Since that muggle can be one peerless witch."

The Great Hall doors suddenly opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. The poor children indeed, soaked and cold, filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school.

A three-legged stool was placed by Professor McGonagall in front of the first-year students, upon which an extremely old, dirty, and patched wizard's hat was placed. The Sorting Hat was observed with fascination by both the first-year students and onlookers. A moment of silence ensued before the hat burst into song:

A thousand years or more ago,
When I was newly sewn,
There lived four wizards of renown,
Whose names are still well known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerers
Thus Hogwarts School began.
Now each of these four founders
Formed their own house, for each
Did value different virtues
In the ones they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were
Prized far beyond the rest;
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest
Would always be the best;
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were
Most worthy of admission;
And power-hungry Slytherin
Loved those of great ambition.
While still alive they did divide
Their favorites from the throng,
Yet how to pick the worthy ones
When they were dead and gone?
'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,
He whipped me off his head
The founders put some brains in me
So I could choose instead!
Now slip me snug about your ears,
I've never yet been wrong
I'll have a look inside your mind
And tell where you belong!

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished.

"Never yet been wrong," grumbled Blake, "The hat is a menace."

"At least it said you're a hard worker this time around," comforted Blaise.

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment, ready to read the long list of names for first-years.

"Ms. Sable."

The group turned around to find the black, flowing robes of a greasy-haired Potions master, Snape, the head of Slytherin house. Beside him stood the Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team.

Blake gave them both a dead stare, knowing what would happen next.

"She's been caught," whispered Theodore, earning a slap on the arm from Daphne.

"Professor Snape," acknowledged Blake finally, ignoring what her friend said. "What brings you here?"

"You know exactly why I'm here, Ms. Sable," replied Snape, showing an indifferent look. "I'm sure you're aware to always sit with your respective house at the beginning of the year... Mr. Diggory will escort you back."

"Hello," said Cedric, looking around at them all. "Sorry to disturb you lot."

The seventeen-year-olds striking good looks caught a lot of students' eyes around them. The three aside from Blake gave a polite smile to the older boy.

In annoyance, the blonde stood up quickly to get away.

"See you later," grumbled Blake as she walked passed Snape. The Hufflepuff boy followed after her.

"Hey," called Cedric, "Hey, Sable... Blake!" he put his hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"Get your hands off me," said Blake harshly, a cold glare on her face. Cedric lifted his hand off her shoulder, backing two steps.

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers as the Sorting Hat announced a house with the names called out.

"I can't keep coming back for you, you know. I'm not here to watch over you," said Cedric, once knowing no attention is on them.

Blake scoffed. "No one told you to watch over or escort me. Maybe Snape did but why listen to him..."

"Sable," Cedric shook his head, giving a lightly tipped smile. "I know you loathe most of us for some reason..."

"I don't loathe you, it's the hat. That witless hat—"

"All the more to get to know us, do not mind our label in Hogwarts," chimed in Cedric. "It's your fourth year, enjoy it. You are indeed stuck with these colors, whether you like it or not."

Blake rolled her eyes in response.

"Try to get along," Cedric smiled, knowing the blonde was listening to him. "At least with the quidditch team, please."

The two arrived at the Hufflepuff table. All welcoming, but most to Cedric. Wary eyes and careful smiles were directed toward Blake.

"Fine," mumbled Blake, enough for only Cedric to hear.

"Thanks," he gave another soft smile. "See, I knew I recruited the right person."

The blonde shook her head and sat, facing away.

She looked around her, and most of her housemates were already engaged in conversation.

"Sable," the young girl perked up at her name called by Anthony Rickett, a member of the quidditch team who had light, swiveled hair and played the position of a beater.

"Looking forward to playing with you, yeah?" he put his fist out for her.

Blake let out a sigh and gazed at the hand extended in front of her, considering it for a moment. Eventually, she decided to reciprocate the gesture and held out her own fist for a bump.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table erupted in cheers and applause at the new member of their house. Blake suddenly recalled her first year, and not wanting to remember it, faced somewhere else, away from the interaction.

Instead, the blonde decided to listen in on the conversations around her. Laying a finger behind her ear, she drifted off and became lost in her thoughts. However, she wondered lately why she had been increasingly prone to disconnecting from her surroundings. The feeling of indifference gauging at her further.

With the sorting finishing till the last letter on the list, Professor McGonagall finally picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

The empty dishes on every table suddenly filled magically before their eyes. Blake gave a content breath as she was finally able to eat. As she dug straight in with a slice of steak and mashed potato, she noticed conversation among her fellow housemates.

"I really think you should listen to the others," one of the sixth-year lads said to the Fat Friar, "Peeves practically soaked everyone, even second years!"

The timely resident ghost sighed as if he was lost, "Peeves deserves a second opportunity—"

"He's wrecking the kitchen, is he not?" a third-year student questioned. "The elves are probably frightened out of their wits."

The Fat Friar seemed to ponder on his own decisions, taking a sip of his ghostly wine.

Blake finished her plate and watched as the ghost seemed to disappear after he spoke to the students. The high and dark glass continued to be pelted heavily by the rain, while a loud clap of thunder caused the windows to rattle. The stormy sky lit up with flashes of lightning, revealing the golden plates on the table as the first course disappeared and was swiftly replaced by dessert.

"Treacle tart or chocolate gateau?"

Blake looked beside her to see Heidi Macavoy offering two options of desserts. Hesitating, she wanted to decline but couldn't find herself saying so.

"Gateau..." she replied and was handed a slice from her team member.

"Great choice," added Susan Bones. "Hannah, over here, made the wrong choice with the tart."

"Me?!" uttered Hannah Abbott. "Ernie chose the spotted dick!"

All heads turned to see Macmillan stuffing his face with pudding, he looked up to give a discreet gesture to his friends.

That side of the table laughed as Blake took a piece of her dessert, not realizing a small lift on her lips.

After the puddings had been completely consumed and every last crumb had disappeared from the plates, leaving them spotless, Albus Dumbledore stood up once more. The continuous chatter in the Hall abruptly stopped, and only the sound of the raging wind and rain could be heard.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices."

As the old wizard spoke about the known rules said each year, Blake's ear started to ring, her hand reaching for it to stop the pain.

It was gone the moment it came, Blake was puzzled about it as she had a bad hunch.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Blake looked up at the podium, along with many other students, though they were more in disbelief than she was. The members of her team were appalled at this sudden announcement.

Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teacher's time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —"

Just as the moment unfolded, a loud roar of thunder shook the air and the doors of the Great Hall burst open with a loud bang.

A man appeared in the doorway, dressed in a black traveling cloak and leaning on a long staff. The entire Hall turned to face the stranger, who was suddenly illuminated by a bolt of lightning that streaked across the ceiling. He pushed back his hood, revealing a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, and proceeded to walk toward the teachers' table.

With every other step he took, a monotonous clunk resonated throughout the Hall. He continued on until he reached the end of the top table, turned right, and made his way toward Dumbledore with a pronounced limp. At that moment, a bolt of lightning illuminated the ceiling, making the room suddenly rain.

The students panicked but Blake couldn't keep her eyes off the mysterious stranger. As if he knew he was being watched, the man shot a spell at the Great Hall's ceiling, the charm managing to stop the indoor storm.

The Hall was quiet as this man revealed himself, scarred skin, a diagonal gash, and his eye — moving ceaselessly, without blinking and rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye.

'Alastor Moody?' noticed Blake, recalling the old articles she had read about the famous former auror in her manor. However, she was curious as to why he was here.

Approaching Dumbledore, the man extended his hand and muttered inaudible words. After a brief conversation, Dumbledore nodded in agreement and gestured for him to take the unoccupied seat on his right.

Breaking the silence, Dumbledore spoke brightly, "Allow me to present our new instructor for Defense Against the Dark Arts - Professor Moody."

Small and silent applause came from the crowd, though everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a legendary event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century — the Triwizard Tournament!"

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.

Following Moody's arrival, the tension that had permeated the Hall dissipated in an instant. A wave of laughter swept through almost everyone present. Blake lightly smiled at the atmosphere but turned serious after mere seconds.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore let out an appreciative chuckle, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er — but maybe this is not the time... no..." said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament... well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."

Blake took a glance at the Slytherin table, spotting Daphne who already had the same idea as her. She grinned, knowing both friends referred to Draco who most likely had a short attention span.

Though lately, she's been having it more often, not that Blake would admit to, of course.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities — until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

Students gasped and whispered excitedly to one another.

"Over the centuries, there have been several attempts to revive the tournament," Dumbledore explained, "but unfortunately, none of them proved to be successful. However, our departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided that it is time to make another effort. We have dedicated ourselves to the task and worked tirelessly over the summer to guarantee that this time, none of the champions will be exposed to life-threatening peril."

Blake was starting to get somewhat disinterested, knowing each sentence was being dragged out more than normal.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

Now the blonde raised her head, finding the other two magical schools interesting. Luckily, they were coming a month later, so time to advance her studies can be prioritized before the whole event begins.

"I nominate Cedric," said McManus at the Hufflepuff table, he was one of the sixth-year's friends. "The Champion of Hufflepuff!"

The group of older students laughed but similarly agreed with the thought. After all, some dream of a chance at glory.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," Dumbledore spoke again, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older—"

Suddenly, several people made noises of outrage at these words. Words of 'rubbish' 'unfair' or 'no way' were yelled out by everyone. However, the announcement made Cedric's group of friends grin more.

Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, "It is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion."

He paused, flickering his eyes to the Gryffindor table where Blake found the Weasley twins furious.

"In October, we will welcome the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, who will be staying with us for a significant part of the year. I trust that you will treat our foreign guests with the utmost respect during their time here and show your wholehearted support for the champion when they are chosen. As it is getting late, I understand the importance of being well-rested for your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down and began conversing with Alastor Moody. The students immediately rose to their feet with a loud scraping and banging of chairs, rushing towards the double doors leading to the entrance hall. Blake stood as well, though later than most, and proceeded to follow her house to the dorms.

They entered the Hogwarts kitchens, Cedric leading the group as he was the prefect this year either way.

Beyond the entrance, a stack of barrels can be found on the right side of the corridor in a dimly lit stone alcove. Cedric tapped the barrels in order (to the rhythm of their founder), and then a sloping, earthy passage unraveled. Hufflepuff students ascended a short distance to uncover a cozy, round, low-ceilinged room that resembled a badger's den.

The students dispersed, with Blake walking in as well. The room is adorned with vibrant, bee-like yellow and black hues, which are accentuated by the use of gleaming honey-colored wood for the tables and round doors that provide access to the boys' and girls' dormitories. The dormitories are furnished with cozy wooden bedsteads, all of which are covered with patchwork quilts.

The blonde retired to the girl's dorm, passing by the wooden mantelpiece of Helga Hufflepuff and the ceiling decor of tendrils of ferns and ivies.

She plopped on her bed, ignoring the others to avoid interacting more. Not a minute goes by before she drifts to sleep, seemingly exhausted from the day.