ii. sociopath

ϟ

Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive, the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Looking out the window, Matilda could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron jumped down from their carriage and dashed up the steps. Matilda, on the other hand, didn't feel as though she needed to rush out of the carriage like a barbarian. She took her time, slowly stepping out of the carriage, in a mature and lady-like fashion.

"Blimey," said Ron, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, "if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soaked — ARRGH!"

Matilda who walked only a few feet behind Ron narrowly missed the splash from the large, red balloon, filled with water, and dropped on Ron's head.

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped — narrowly missing Matilda, who had been walking up behind Ron, but it burst at Harry's feet, soaking his feet, but leaving Matilda dry. People all around them shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire. 

Matilda angrily adjusted her robes, looked up and saw, floating twenty feet above them, Peeves the Poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his wide malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.

"PEEVES...!" Matilda yelled angrily.

But, as she went to take a step toward him her foot landed on a puddle that had formed on the concrete floor, caused by both the wet students and the water-filled balloon. Suddenly, Matilda's foot slid out from beneath her, sending her through the air and landing on her bum. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked down at her with horror-stricken expressions, but their hands also covering their mouths to keep from laughing, knowing that Matilda would hex them if they allowed any sounds similar to a chuckle to escape from their lips. 

"I'm fine," Matilda sighed, taking Harry's hand that he held out and offered her. "At least I didn't fall and break my intelligence."

Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she heard Matilda's yelp and had saw Peeves with his red balloons.

Matilda hurriedly clasped both hands over her mouth to keep any sound, whether it be a chuckle or a yelp, from escaping her lips.

"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, one of them being Cho Chang, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

"I shall call the headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "I'm warning you, Peeves —"

Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

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

Matilda followed Professor McGonagall through the double doors and into the Great Hall, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione muttering about themselves in the entrance hall.

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleaned by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in there.

Matilda had walked past the Slytherins, she offered Daisy Morgenstern a polite, tight-lipped smile, but turned her head before Draco Malfoy could look her way. On the other side of the Ravenclaw table was the Gryffindors, who Matilda wished would be seated further away because the table is the loudest in the Great Hall. Luna had noticed Matilda and quickly slid over on the bench and patted an empty spot beside her. 

"Good evening, Matilda," Luna beamed, happy to see her friend.

"Good evening, Luna," Matilda greeted, a warm smile spread across her lips. "I do hope they hurry the Sorting Ceremony along this year. It seems as though it drags on longer with every new class."

The Sorting of the new students into Houses took place at the start of every school year, and every year Matilda becomes even more annoyed with the ceremony. 

Matilda in her boredom glanced up at the staff table. There seemed to be rather more empty seats there than usual. Hagrid, of course, was still fighting his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor, but there was another empty chair too, and Professor Lupin had once filled it. 

Though Matilda would admit it to no one living or dead she missed Remus. He was an excellent Professor and took a liking to all the students. He was excited to teach, and Matilda worried that whoever was to take his place wouldn't be as enthusiastic. 

"Do you think they were able to find a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?" Padma questioned, taking notice to Matilda staring at the empty seat. 

"They can't just not have Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Matilda. "Though I am worried about who the new Professor might be."

"Have you heard anything?" Padma questioned. 

Matilda shook her head. Sadly, her dad had refused to tell her anything he might know about who will fill the position.

"Maybe the new professor will be a vampire," suggested Luna.

Luna's eyes shone bright with excitement at the thought of a vampire coming to Hogwarts. 

"Our new Professor will not be a vampire, Luna."

Cho, who sat beside of Padma had been quietly listening in on their conversation, and finally decided to contribute. 

"Our parents couldn't handle a werewolf being our Professor," Matilda scoffed. "What makes you think they'll be so accepting to let Dumbledore bring in a vampire to teach us?"

Everyone at the table nodded, agreeing with her. 

Matilda went back to scanning the staff table. Tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher and head of Ravenclaw House, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra's other side was the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape — Matilda's and almost every other student's least favorite Professor at Hogwarts. Matilda's loathing of Snape was due to his unreasonable disliking to her. Every other Professor adored Matilda Winters, stating her to be the brightest witch of her year, even Headmaster Dumbledore, but Snape would take any chance he could find to belittle her and question her intellect. And so, she hated him.

On Snape's other side was an empty seat, which Matilda assumed was Professor McGonagall's. Next to it, and in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together, and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought. Matilda glanced up at the ceiling too. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and he had never seen it look this stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

"Can't this go any faster?" Padma whined, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "I seriously might be starving to death!" 

Matilda was about to comment on Padma's dramatics, but the words were no sooner out of her mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened, and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall.

They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed.

The first years were soaked from head to toe. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school — all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what Matilda had recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, I fell in the lake! He looked positively delighted about it.

Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty, patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song.

Matilda hated the song. She hated every version of it. The one that was sung when she was being sorted during her first year and she hated the version now in her fourth year. Which is why she was one of the few who didn't erupt into applause when the song was over. 

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.

"Ackerley, Stewart!"

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat.

Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him.

"Great," Matilda groaned, unenthused by Ravenclaw's newest addition. "He looks like a crybaby!" 

"Matilda!" Cho chastised her. "That isn't nice at all." 

"I wasn't trying to be nice, Cho," said Matilda, rolling her eyes. 

She looked back to the front of the room where the ceremony continued, ignoring Cho and hoping for tougher and smarter looking Ravenclaws. 

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers; Matilda could see Malfoy and his friends clapping as Baddock joined the Slytherins. She could also see the dirty looks he was already getting from the Gryffindor table. Fred and George even hissed at Malcolm Baddock as he sat down.

Matilda didn't understand the hate that Slytherin got. Sure, Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin, and no one hated him more than Matilda, but that didn't mean the house was evil. Just last year Matilda and her friends learned about Peter Pettigrew who was a Gryffindor who went bad, also Percy Weasley wasn't the easiest Gryffindor to get along with. Every house had bad apples. She didn't like that one house was hated more than any other. Matilda hated people in every house, not just one.

She could have been a Slytherin. She and everyone else in her life can clearly see she possesses many of the Slytherin qualities. And her dad was a Slytherin. But she narrowly missed it and was put into Ravenclaw. That never stopped Harry, Hermione, and Ron from befriending her, even when she tried to get them to leave her alone. And she's been accepted by most other Gryffindors. They don't care that she sits at their table or is always in their common room. And that was most likely due to her robes shining a sapphire blue instead of emerald green.

"Branstone, Eleanor!" 

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Dennis!"

Tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table. About twice as tall as a normal man, and at least three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild, tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming — a misleading impression, for Matilda, knew Hagrid to possess a very kind nature. He winked at them as he sat down at the end of the staff table and watched Dennis Creevey putting on the Sorting Hat. The rip at the brim opened wide —

"Please not Ravenclaw," whispered Matilda, crossing her fingers. 

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

"Oh, thank you, Merlin!" Matilda cheered. 

Matilda clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother.

The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.

"Oh, hurry this along," sighed Matilda. "I couldn't care less about what house these kids are in."

"I quite enjoy the ceremony," chirped Luna. 

"Of course, you do," said Matilda. 

And the ceremony continued. 

"Pritchard, Graham!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Quirke, Orla!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"It's about time," said Matilda sounding relieved. 

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."

"Hear, hear!" the entire Great Hall yelled as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.

"Matilda!" Padma said so suddenly the pumpkin juice in her mouth almost spewed out. "Your hair!" 

"What about it?" Matilda asked. 

She had decided on keeping the look. She thought that without her bangs she looked older, more mature, smarter even. The bangs were cute, but that's all they were, and Matilda wanted to be more than cute, she wanted to be great. 

"You're bangs," she said pointing at Matilda's head. "They're gone."

"I am aware," Matilda smiled. "Thank you." 

"I like it," Padma shrugged. 

"I do too." Luna agreed. 

The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.

"Thank you," said Matilda. "I needed a change." 

"Well, you certainly succeeded," said Padma. "Just think what Asher Morgenstern will think."

"I didn't change my hair for Asher Morgenstern," Matilda argued. "The change was for me. I don't plan on changing for a boy. Ever."

"Perhaps I should do something with my hair..."

Padma patted the top of her head thinking about how she might get the attention of a cute boy. Preferably a Morgenstern boy.

When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding 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."

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued,

"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year." 

The third years and up cheered as the second years sulked. 

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

"Yes!" Matilda cheered. She had already known why it had been canceled, but hearing it being said out loud, hearing it being confirmed, stirred excitement within Matilda. She truly hated Quidditch.

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

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Luna gasped. 

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Matilda had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye — and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head so that all they could see was whiteness.

"What in the bloody hell..." Padma whispered.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Matilda couldn't make out. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

"Oh, Dumbledore has got to be kidding!" Matilda exclaimed. "Moody? Mad-Eye Moody?"

Matilda was obviously very unhappy with the presented change, and everyone sitting around her noticed. 

"What?" Padma asked worriedly. "What's wrong with him?" 

"He works in the Ministry with my father," Matilda grumbled. "And I'm about ninety-five percent sure he's a psychopath." 

"Matilda," Padma whispered nervously. "Isn't that what a lot of students think about you?"

"They think I'm a narcissistic sociopath, actually," Matilda corrected Padma. "And I'm not a sociopath, I've been tested. But I won't completely deny being a narcissist."

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Matilda saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

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 very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

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

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "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."

"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."

"Death toll?" Padma whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and Matilda herself didn't quite care about the death toll or hearing about the tournament. She was tired. She wanted to be dismissed so that she could sleep.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger."

"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."

"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley yelled so that his voice echoed throughout the Great Hall. His face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Matilda could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "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 — will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration."

Multiple groans were heard throughout the hall as Dumbledore announced the disappointing news for many of them.

"This," Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious. "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." 

His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I, therefore, beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

But Dumbledore knew as did everyone else, that the Weasley twins would try and find a way to enter themselves into the competition. 

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected." 

Dumbledore paused, looking over the sea of students.

"And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning," he announced. "Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

ϟ

Matilda quickly made her way to her room where her things have already been unpacked and put away. Her bed had been made in her dark purple sheets and fuzzy pillows, and her clothes had been folded neatly and placed into her chest and designated wardrobe.

"Matilda, are you upset you can't enter the tournament?" Padma asked, throwing the light pink sheets on her bed aside. 

Matilda sat on her vanity chair, already dressed in a matching night outfit, and running a brush through her long, dark hair.

"Not at all," she told Padma truthfully. "Why would I need to try and prove myself when everyone here already knows how great I am." 

"You'd make a wonderful champion," said Luna.

Matilda smiled as she climbed into her bed. 

"I know." 

And with that, the four girls went off to sleep, not knowing what the months to come would hold for them.

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AN:// Guess who finally is caught up with her chapters on this fic and can post regularly? ME! I am so relieved and hope to continue staying ahead!

xoxo