European Arrivals
The week went by with little incidents - maybe except for Snape staring frustratedly at my perfect potion and being unable to issue any complaint. Hermione, who made it her mission to tutor me up to her level, gave my hand a squeeze at smiled contentedly. Despite not achieving my goal of casting non-verbal spells, I'd say the knowledge gained was more extensive and thorough than any other in the year group, save for a certain brunette girlfriend of mine.
In the very next DADA lesson right before the arrivals, Crouch, after receiving homework essays, turned to address the class:
"As you all should remember, Intent and Power are crucial at casting magic. Some of you," his eyes shifted to me and Hermione, "may have speculated that Dark Magic makes use malevolent emotions. This is quite close to the truth. Now, have you heard of the Unforgivable Curses - in other words, those most heavily punished by the law?"
The class murmured for a while, but only a few tentative hands went up - Hermione, Ron, Neville as well as mine, each for distinct reasons. The Professor looked rather amused, and gestured to Ron:
"Arthur Weasley's son?", he questioned, receiving an apprehensive nod, "Your father helped me out quite a tight corner few weeks ago... Mind telling the rest what you already know?"
Ron hesitated, then answered, "I heard my dad talk about one... the Imperius Curse?"
"Ah... Arthur would know. Absolute control, almost undetectable - gave the Ministry quite a headache last time the Dark Lord was in power-"
I noted a fact Snape mentioned later in the books: that only Death Eaters call Voldemort "Dark Lord". The rest of the class seemed oblivious to such signs - understandable, as they have never witnessed a Death Eater meeting.
Crouch pulled out a jar with a single, enlarged mice and muttered: "Imperio" while continuing to lecture us. The poor creature did some pretty impressive gymnastics while squeaking hysterically. Ron turned pale at the sight but remained steadfast in his seat.
"-quite a debacle, that was. Malfoy, Crabbe, Avery... cowards that all get off with being 'Imperiused'", Crouch continued, a trace of anger and ridicule found in his voice, "whether or not that is true, is up to your better judgement. Now, could someone give me another curse?"
Neville trembled and answered: "The Cruciatus, sir."
With a meaningful look to the poor guy (kind of disgusting, considering how Lestranges, Crouch's fellow Death Eaters, were known for said curses), the Professor gave a light nod and explained:
"Pain - inscrutable, unbearable pain yet leaves no mark. Exquisite control over magic, I might add, and requires the caster to have a deep desire to hurt and maim. That which none of you - I hope - would find within yourself."
As Crouch lectured, the mouse was silenced and continued to be used as a literal lab rat. Because we can't hear its noise, most of us merely saw the rat twitching in midair before collapsing upon the desk, presumably unable to overcome the pain. All of the students felt instinctively what the fate of the rodent would be...
Moving his wand from the subject, Crouch turned his gaze back and nodded at the only trembling hand - Hermione's, as she could not help sharing what she knew.
"What's the last spell, Ms Granger?"
"Avada Kedavra, sir...", she answered, glancing at me briefly.
"Yes... The most evil - and merciful - of all. Instant, almost guaranteed death. The only exception sitting right here." he turned to me inquisitively. "Attempting to cast this is not yet a crime according to the Ministry," the Professor sneered "though, fortunately, even if all of you point your wand and say the incantation, all I would get is a nosebleed."
Having finished the explanation, Crouch pointed his wand again at the poor mouse and whispered (although the class was so silent we could hear every word):
"Avada Kedavra!"
A jet of bright, green light flew towards the squirming rat and as soon as it came into contact, the creature had its last breath. My shadow sensed the vanquished soul slowly fading into the afterlife - for it exists in the limbo, the shadow realm. As everyone was transfixed on the corpse, the Professor screamed: "Constant Vigilance!" and requested essays about how to deal with Unforgivable Curses for homework.
Except for Neville, who was squirming since that display of Cruciatus, the Griffindors felt quite positive about the new teacher. And although he is plotting murder, I have to agree with that.
****
About a week later, one afternoon, while going downstairs for dinner, the three of us could barely squeeze our way to the Great Hall, for a huge crowd of students were gathering around a large sign at the bottom of the staircase. Ron stood on tiptoe to read the sign aloud to the two of us - although it was nothing new:
"TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY
STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST."
"Only a week away!" said a Hufflepuff extra, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him..."
'How fun... wonder what he would think when Cedric showed up at the end of "Goblet of Fire"...'
Hermione looked at me worriedly - apparently I was making a rather sinister expression.
"Cedric?" asked Ron blankly as the Hufflepuff left.
"Cedric Diggory. He's the Seeker from last year, remember?"
"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" Ron said incredulously.
"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," commented Hermione, glancing at me. "I've heard he's a really good student - and he's a prefect."
"You only like him because he's handsome..."
"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!"
Ron coughed loudly, sounding oddly like "Lockhart!". I sneaked back and smiled knowingly, earning a light slap on the back from Hermione.
The notice had quite an effect on Hogwarts. There seemed to be only one topic of conversation: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying between students like a highly contagious virus: who was going to try to be the champion, what challenges for contestants, how different the students from the other schools would be.
At least on the surface, the castle was going through extra cleaning. Middle Ages-style portraits had been scrubbed and cleaned so much that their subjects now sat with cartoonishly shiny faces, looking like SR-type trading cards in mobile games. Suits of armor were also gleaming and well-oiled while the caretaker, Filch, was furiously telling off any dirty shoes in sight, sending a pair of first-year into tears.
Other professors seemed oddly tense too.
"Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transfigured his own ears onto a cactus. Wonder how he can hear with those...