Chapter Sixty - Announcement

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros and some other high falutin' companies. Me, I'm just a PR professional. I don't profess to own - and would never dream of making any money off - JKR's wonderful world. However, its her sandbox and she's left the gate unlatched so we can go in and play a bit. Which, I've done.

Chapter Sixty - Announcement

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

"Wormtail!" the breezy, malevolent voice loudly hissed.

"Yes, Master?" asked the simpering Pettigrew.

"How goes the hunt for Barty Junior?" asked baby-Riddle.

"I've sent owls, Master," replied Pettigrew. "I expect to hear from him soon."

"Good," sneered the deformed baby. "He, at least, can help me do something about this place."

The place was the old Riddle Manor. Pettigrew finally managed to get himself, baby-Riddle and the snake, Nagini, to the old manor only a few days earlier. The plan was to go and get Crouch the Younger from Crouch Manor. However, when Pettigrew went in to find him, he was already gone. According to Crouch the Elder, who Pettigrew had managed to ambush and place the Imperious Curse upon, he'd escaped during the Quidditch World Cup only the evening earlier. A quick Memory Charm later and Pettigrew was gone with Crouch the Elder none the wiser.

"Get me my potion," sneered baby-Riddle. "This body requires sustenance."

"Yes, Master," said Pettigrew. He quickly went into the small potions laboratory he had created to get the snake venom potion he was continually brewing for his master; and breathed a sigh of relief. His days as a Marauder, developing pranking potions, were standing him in good stead.

At least it meant he could get out of that room and not see the sight of that bloody big snake slowly digesting the old muggle man; the man who had come upon them a few nights ago in this very manor. For someone who often ate rubbish while on the run from the aurors, just to survive, Pettigrew did not have the stomach for that sort of thing. He knew that, one wrong move on his part in carrying out the tasks assigned to him from his master, he would be a future meal for the snake.

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

The last week before the Express, The Greengrasses and Grangers went together to Diagon Alley. As with second year compared to first year, fourth year used many of the same books as third year. So, there was only a need to pick up 'The Standard Book of Spells Grade 4' by the same author as all their previous transfiguration texts, Miranda Goshawk. Harry wondered what book they were supposed to pick up for Defence, but the equipment list said the book would be provided by the new Professor.

However, Harry needed to buy a set of formal robes for a 'possible' Yule Ball at Hogwarts, and a new set of school robes. As well as having a growth spurt over the past six months he'd also begun to fill out across the shoulders and chest.

The group had continued to exercise with Wendell having organised home gyms for them all. The ones he organised were called 'universal' gyms that were kept in a compact steel powdercoated frame. Harry loved his, plus the extra weights he'd purchased in free weights. He liked how it made his biceps 'beef' up.

He knew Daphne liked what it was doing to his body, and he was quite proud of that, as she'd walked into his room once while he was bared to the waist. She took one look at him, blushed, and fled the room. She never said a word. That Harry spent the next five minutes before the large mirror in the room flexing his muscles was between him and the mirror; and, unlike some, the mirror wasn't that much of a chatterbox.

However, the extra bulk meant Harry needed a whole new set of school robes. So, to Madam Malkin's they went. Daphne only needed new blouses and school jumper. She'd only 'filled out' in one place for which, when he noticed, Harry was very grateful.

Daphne was not so much into the free weights, as she told him it was unseemly for a Lady to look so 'muscley'. However, based on advice from Monica, she made a lot of use of the 'cardio' equipment: the rowing machine, the resistance bike and the treadmill. She often used the equipment while Harry was working with the weights.

After leaving the store with their new uniforms, Isabel asked, "Where to next?"

"How about we start at the bottom of the Alley and work our way back up?" suggested Monica.

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

He was sitting at a back booth in the Warlock's Curse, a tavern in the depths of Knockturn Alley. He appeared to be a non-descript man. One who did not stand out from the crowd. He was neither tall nor short, fat nor skinny, average.

He had been sitting in the tavern for almost an hour. As the time was approaching the hour mark he knew he would soon have to leave. The potion he'd self administered to himself would fail at the one hour mark.

With ten minutes to go, on the dot of the time he expected to meet his - contact - one of the patrons sitting at another table, rose and approached him. Just before he rose, the man donned a certain lapel pin. It was a skull and bones. He approached the table of the first man - who was also wearing the same pin - and sat down opposite.

"That's an interesting pin you're wearing," the first man said.

"As is yours," replied the other, speaking his part of the code phrase. "I've been watching you."

"I figured as much," said the first, before then leaning slightly forward. "He's back and wants to see you."

"And who would that be?"

The first man carefully reached into the inside pocket of his robes, behind the lapel pin, and withdrew a card. The second man tensed a little as the hand disappeared, but calmed when all it brought out was what looked like a muggle business card.

The first placed the card on the table and slid it over to the second. The second could see there was yet another lapel pin pinned to it. This time it was of a small golden snake.

The first said, "He - congratulates you on gaining your freedom and wants to welcome you back. This is a timed portkey that will take you to him at 7.00pm this evening. It will only work if you are standing at the public portkey point in Diagon. It's up to you. However, he will not be happy with you if you do not come."

The first carefully rose from his seat and hurried from the tavern.

The second watched him go before turning to scan the room. He could not detect anyone watching, or paying even the slightest attention.

He picked up the card and dropped it into his own inside robe pocket. Then rose and left through the same door. The first was already gone.

Hiding behind a rain barrel, a small brown rat watched the second as he stood just outside the door and looked around. When the second then hurried off, donning an invisibility cloak as he did so, the rat made his own way deeper into the Alley to portkey away.

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

At precisely 7.00pm that night the second man was exactly where he was supposed to be. He withdrew his wand, took a deep breath and set himself ready for a battle. With the expected tug in the middle of his navel he was away.

He arrived on the side of a hill, just up from a graveyard and nearby small wood. He looked around not seeing anyone. A disused Manor building sat near the peak of a hill behind him.

"You're alone," a voice quietly said.

He spun around with a ready curse on his lips and the tip of his wand glowing. He saw a middle aged man standing there, as if he had no care in the world. "Wormtail," he half sneered.

"Hello, Barty," replied Pettigrew. "Now put your wand away and come with me. You know the master does not appreciate anyone having their wand in their hand in his presence." And Pettigrew simply turned away and walked up the hill.

Bartemius 'Barty' Crouch Junior followed him.

Pettigrew led him into the entry of the manor and up a flight of stairs. At the top, Pettigrew turned to him and said, "Wait here until you're called." Not waiting for a response, he turned and walked through a door.

A few moments later, Pettigrew was back. "The master will see you now. Leave your wand in your pocket or you forfeit your life." And he gestured for Crouch to precede him inside.

Crouch walked in and saw a single wing-backed armchair set before the fire and off to one side.

The high pitched whisper-like voice he remembered of his master called, "Come in, Barty. And kneel before me."

Crouch quickly moved around to kneel a few feet shy of the chair with his head bowed. "Thank you, master, for calling me. I have awaited this summons for many years."

The high pitched voice cruelly laughed and said, "One of my rare faithful followers, you are, Barty. Now, lift your eyes and see what has become of me."

Crouch looked up. As his eyes lifted he was surprised not to see a pair of feet on the floor before the chair, but it was only for a moment. He lifted his head further and was shocked at the sight of the deformed baby-like thing before him. However, there was no doubt this was his master. The eyes spoke true.

"Master!" Crouch spoke in a horrified voice. "What has become of you?"

Baby-Riddle cruelly laughed again and said, "This is the first stage of my resurrection from the wraith like form I inhabited for many long years. Between you and Wormtail, I shall once more gain my former form.

Crouch bowed his head and said, "I am your servant, master. What ever I can do, you have only to ask."

"Of course, young Barty," sneered baby-Riddle. "And I have a most important mission for you to achieve. It will also take you almost nine months to complete."

"I am honoured you would task me with such a role," replied Crouch. "When may I begin?"

With another cruel laugh baby-Riddle said, "Listen carefully, my faithful friend; this is what I need you to do..."

He spoke long into the night.

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

As with all things, summer ended and the 1st of September was once more upon them. This year was their fourth year. For Astoria, it was her second; and for Luna, her third.

This year, the 1st of September fell on a Sunday, so the Grangers came along to make a bit of a day of it. They spent the first part of the morning at the Estate before they had to leave. They floo'ed from Greengrass Estate to the Old Midland Grand Hotel and walked over to Kings Cross Station.

Walking through the barrier onto Platform 9 ¾, the teens headed for the back of the train, but were also keeping an eye out for their friends in amongst the crowds. Eventually they found them, as expected, near the rear most carriage. Neville, Susan, Hannah and Luna were already there. That meant they were just awaiting Tracey. She arrived less than five minutes later.

Harry and Neville were, once more, tasked with loading the trunks onto the train. Even Luna batted her eyes at the boys and asked - sweetly. Harry just rolled his eyes and sighed before grabbing it, levitating it, and taking it on board to store in the overhead space.

At least both boys only had to make two trips, each. They could both now levitate one on top of the other and carry two at a time. They did manage to garner quite a few speculative looks from other students and not a few guardians while they did it. Students with only a third year level of education shouldn't have been able to manage it. However, the fact Harry and Neville had killed in combat a thousand year old thirty-plus foot long basilisk had most people thinking they both were just that powerful.

After the second four trunks were stowed, Harry waited for Neville in the passageway and was about to cast the Door Sealing Charm on the door when Neville beat him to it.

Neville turned back with a smirk and said, "C'mon, Harry. We can't have you being the only one to cast all the important Charms for us, can we?"

Harry grinned and shrugged back before heading back off the train to say their goodbyes.

After it had been a few minutes after the five minute warning whistle was sounded, the Eight trooped back on board and into their compartment. This time, Harry had a new sign, which he showed Luna:

TRY KNOCKING

'The Eight'

On the trip back to Hogwarts, they actually did get a knock on the door. Harry was expecting it might have been the twins. Instead, it was Astoria.

"Harry?" she asked sweetly. "Can you come and meet some friends of mine? They were too nervous to approach you, last year; and want to meet you."

"What," said Harry, from where he sat near the window. "I'm like a prize-winning pig, or something; am I?"

But, the way he said it, Astoria could tell he was just having fun with her. But, she then got him right back when she replied, "No, Harry. More like prize-winning beefcake contracted to the House Greengrass for stud services."

Harry just stared at the smirking little twelve year old in shock; his jaw hanging open, gobsmacked.

"Tori!" exclaimed Daphne, near scandalised.

Astoria just stood there with a self-satisfied smirk on her face knowing she'd won that round.

The rest hesitated with their own levels of surprise for a few moments, before they all, including Luna, burst into laughter.

"Well, my most favourite future sister-in-law," said Harry, chuckling, "If I'm to be paraded about like stud on display, then I insist I properly escort you while I do so." He then stepped out the door where she took his elbow.

Turning to look back in he said, "Lock the door. I'll knock when I get back." Then allowed himself to be led away while making 'moo' sounds.

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

After a relatively quiet third year, if you don't count the dementors, Harry was looking forward to a quiet fourth year. At least, he had his fingers crossed it would be. However, if the weather was a harbinger of the year to come, it was going to be a shocker.

As the thestral-drawn carriages made their way through the main gates and up the road to the main doors of the castle they had to move through almost gale force winds and lightning flashing through the skies.

"My word," said Daphne, from where she was snuggled in tight to Harry. "I'd hate to be a First Year crossing the lake in this!"

"Let's hope they're not that stupid as to put the firsties in the boats in this sort of weather," said Tracey. "Plus, they're going to be thoroughly soaked by the time they reach the castle.

"We would be, too, if it wasn't for the Water Repelling Charms we used before we alighted from the train," said Hermione from where she had Crookshanks bundled in her lap.

"You're assuming the staff at Hogwarts, for the most part, aren't stupid," said Harry. "I bet they still cross that way."

"No bet," smiled Neville.

Arriving at the castle, the Eight, from where they were split across two carriages, made their way into the Great Hall. They also saw just how many of the Second Years and up did not employ a water repelling charm of some form as, with the little they'd spent in the open, they were still somewhat soaked.

Harry and the others were madly using their wands and drying off as many of their fellow students as they could using a modified Drought Charm. Least, those students who weren't ahead of them.

They were only interrupted in what they were doing when the castle poltergeist, Peeves, thought to add his own mayhem by dropping water balloons onto the heads of students passing underneath.

"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!" Professor McGonagall had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling. "Ouch - sorry, Miss Granger..."

"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.

"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, 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.

Harry and the others continued drying off students. From where she was now standing off to one side, Professor McGonagall watched them with interest. When the majority of the students had cleared she looked to them and said, "Ten points each, Mister Potter, Mister Longbottom, Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass, Miss Davis, Miss Bones and Miss Abbott for a most excellent application of the Drought Charm. That was very nice. Now, I wonder if you wouldn't mind doing that again once the new First Years arrive."

Luna did not know the Charm but was still wary of drawing in magic to power her spells. She seemed to be concerned it would also attract unwanted attention from Nargles. So, she had already gone inside to save a seat for Harry.

Neville smiled and said, "Sure thing, Professor. That is, if the others don't mind?"

Everyone else shook their heads.

When the new crop arrived, the Professor drew them in to the Entrance Hall, and the Seven dried them before they were then sent into the ante-chamber. One small boy, who looked a little familiar to Harry, was wearing Hagrid's huge moleskin coat. The boy looked like he was swimming in it. Harry had him remove it so Susan could dry him while Harry dried the coat.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" the little boy asked, looking up at him with a little awe.

Harry smiled back and said, "Yes, I am." And quickly bundled the coat up before he said, "I'll return this to Hagrid for you. There's no need for you to carry it with you now."

The boy just nodded back.

Once all the firsties were dried and sent into the ante-chamber, the Seven headed inside to their respective House tables. Harry carried the great coat and dropped it onto Hagrid's big chair at the staff table before moving to his own.

Once seated Harry looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be rather more empty seats there than usual. Hagrid, of course, was outside sorting out the carriages; Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor and giving her little monologue to the new firsties, but there was another empty chair too, and Harry couldn't think who else was missing.

"Where's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" asked one of his dorm mates, who was also looking up at the professors.

"Maybe they couldn't get anyone!" replied another.

Harry just ignored it. However, it was now clear who was missing.

When Professor McGonagall led in the new firsties Harry saw the boy near the back who had been wearing Hagrid's great moleskin coat. As they passed the Gryffindor table, Harry saw young Colin Creevey wave at the boy, who waved back.

'Ah!' he thought. 'Probably another Creevey.'

After the sorting, with its usual crop of 'firsties' finding their way to the various tables, and the boy who proved to be a Dennis Creevey was sorted into Gryffindor, Harry was comfortably enjoying his meal and chatting with Luna.

After the main course was removed, desserts took their place.

"Pudding!" exclaimed Luna, happily picking up her bowl spooning a huge helping into it.

Harry smiled at her before reaching out for a couple of slices of treacle tart. He was always amused with how much dear Luna loved her pudding, and her sulking when none was served. He suspected she'd eat nothing but pudding if she knew it was going to be served at every meal.

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

Once the desserts were cleared away - and the plates, once more, were sparking clean - the Headmaster stood and gave his little warnings about banned items, the Forbidden Forest and Hogsmeade visits. He then hesitated for a few moments before he said, "It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at the rest of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Simon Martin was banging his head onto his empty plate on the table.

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 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..."

He was interrupted, at that moment, when 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 travelling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swivelled 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. Someone gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Harry 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.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. 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 Defence 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.

"What happened to him?" Mandy Brocklehurst asked. "What happened to his face?"

"Dunno," Terry Boot whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.

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 travelling 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 Harry 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 honour 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 Tri-wizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

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

The tension that had filled the Great 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.

"Err - but maybe this is not the time - no..." said Dumbledore, "Where was I? Ah yes, the Tri-wizard 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 Tri-wizard 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."

Many of the students were whispering excitedly to one another, and Harry himself was far more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.

"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 Tri-wizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

At every House table, Harry could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbours. Harry had a bad feeling stemming from this.

But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Great Hall quieted once more. "Eager, though, I know all of you will be to bring the Tri-wizard 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. This..." Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, "... 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.

"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. 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. 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.

_‗_

-==(oIo)==-

\""/

After a night where he didn't feel he'd had a decent night's sleep, Harry joined the others at the Gryffindor table. The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy. Heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as the Eight examined their new course schedules at breakfast. A few seats along, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of aging themselves and bluffing their way into the Tri-wizard Tournament.

"G'morning," Harry mumbled to the others before he leaned over and gave Daphne a half-hearted peck on the cheek.

"Not have a good night?" she asked.

"No," he replied a little dejectedly. "I've got a real bad feeling about this tournament thing."

"You're not thinking of entering it, are you?" she gasped.

"Hell, no!" he vehemently replied before calming down again. "But, I can't but help worrying about it. I just thank Merlin I'm not yet of age!"

They were soon joined by the twins.

"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" asked Harry.

"Dunno," said Fred. "But, it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George..."

"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though," said Susan.

"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" said Fred shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."

"People have died, though!" said Hermione in a worried voice.

"Yeah," said Fred airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk?" Looking down the table a little he saw his youngest brother sitting there. "Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"

"What d'you reckon?" asked Ron. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older. Dunno if we've learned enough..."

"I definitely haven't," came Neville's gloomy voice. "I expect my Gran would want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honour. I'll just have to let her know I can't due to the age limit."

"I don't think she'd care now, Nev," said Harry. "After all, her grandson did slay a thousand year old basilisk only a little over a year ago; and rescue the damsel in distress. I think you've more than adequately demonstrated your Gryffindorish Longbottom bravery."

Neville smiled and said, "Yeah. Yeah, I think you'd be right about that."

Professor Flitwick was soon around with his class schedule and offered his own congratulations for attaining the highest scores of his year the previous year. Harry gave a smile and his thanks before looking down at the schedule.

"Huh!" he said. "I seem to have quite a few class periods with the 'Puffs, this year."

"It's supposed to be even," said Hermione.

"It is," replied Harry. "If you only take into consideration the classes. Transfiguration and Astronomy with Slytherin; Charms, Herbology and History of Magic with Gryffindor; Potions and DADA with Hufflepuff. However, there are three classes a week for Potions and DADA so that six class periods with Hufflepuff. Transfiguration is three class periods, but Astronomy is only one; so, that's four class periods with Slytherin. Charms and Herbology are two each and History of Magic is one; so, that's five class periods.

"Then there's, for me, the two classes that are for all four Houses out of the electives; Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. So, I didn't count those as it was pointless."

When the mail came in Harry quickly opened his copy of the Daily Prophet. He had no other items.

Reading through it he saw an article on Professor Moody and Mister Weasley.

FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent.

Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office."

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago after his twin sons were caught flying it, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ('policemen') over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of 'Mad-Eye' Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder.

Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

"Well, Harry Tracey and I have Transfiguration now; so..." said Daphne, starting to pack up ready to leave.

"And, that's our call," said Harry, following suit.

He, Daphne and Tracey headed for the Transfiguration classroom after bidding their friends a good day.

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