Rose Weasley and the Callamitus Clause

As it happened, there was no time to hunt for the key to unlock Lorcan's mystery door. The Tournament was rapidly approaching, and when McGonagall stood one day before breakfast, her announcement came as a surprise to no one.

"I would like to briefly address the matter of the arrival of our foreign visitors tomorrow afternoon." By the students' reactions, no one had forgotten about the incoming Triwizard contestants. "All of your classes have been cancelled for you to prepare for the evening. I expect this castle to be glistening from top to bottom by the time the schools arrive."

The Headmistress was serious when she said that she wanted the castle to shine. The students received assignments from the prefects as to where they should report to tidy up the grounds. First and second year Gryffindors were sent out to help Hagrid prepare his hut and the surrounding grounds for Beauxbatons' giant horses, called Abraxans.

Rose and Albus scrubbed out the large water trough in front of Hagrid's hut while James and Lysander helped inside. Their work was finished early, leaving them with plenty of time to go back and relax in their common room. James and Lysander played Wizard's Chess while Rose opened up her Transfiguration book.

"I wanted to figure this out before class on Wednesday," she murmured to herself, following the words with her fingers. They had no classes on Halloween, which fell on a Tuesday, in lieu of the Triwizard Tournament. "I should have gotten this during class..."

Albus looked on as Rose tried to Transfigure a marble so that it would lay flat on the table. Professor Randor had decided that they should begin with abstract Transfigurations after seeing how the students failed at turning a thimble into a miniature tea kettle. Now they were working on re-forming objects--- mainly altering their shape, like Rose was attempting to do.

The other Gryffindors slowly dribbled back into the common room. The third years were laughing uproariously as they slid through the hole. Louis Weasley emerged at the end of their group, dripping wet from head to foot.

"You're lucky Victoire isn't here to see you looking like that!", his middle sister told him with feigned sternness, unable to hold back a laugh. "What'd you do?"

He grinned broadly and exchanged a mischievous look with his friends. "Giant squid," was all he said, and the other boys nodded in agreement. Dominique rolled her eyes and amused the room by using her wand to siphon the water off her brother from a few feet away.

Rose got ready with Tia and the other girls in their room: Loren Nicosa, Mary Deverill, and Kara Welsh. Tia had noted one day that the other three tended to keep to themselves; "It's not like we have the plague. They could socialize more." Rose merely took them as the quiet, studious types, as opposed to the outgoing Tia. They all filed downstairs with the rest of the students, who had organized themselves in a sort of half-circle near the lake.

"Everybody, please back away from the lake," echoed McGonagall's amplified voice. The house heads moved their students; Professor Evariste waved the Gryffindors back while glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. The other heads organized their students with varying degrees of effectiveness; Slughorn was quickly losing his jolly humor with the immovable Slytherins, while the Ravenclaws filed in neatly behind Flitwick.

A noise. An odd silence fell over the group, then the whispers began.

"I think I heard--"

"Wait, am I seeing--"

"Liam, look! It's--"

The Triwizard schools were arriving.

First they came from the sky. Oversized golden horses with gleaming white manes and tails descended, bearing puffs of blue on their backs. The splotches of color soon turned into students, clad in powder blue robes and bearing two wands each. The wands were crossed and shot out glistening gold stars that scattered across the freshly trimmed grass.

After the Beauxbatons students came their Headmistress. Four of the oversized Abraxan flew down in a square formation. Between them were stretched thick golden ropes that supported an ornate throne of what appeared to be twisted cords of gold. The woman on the oversize chair, however, was more shocking than the seat itself.

Rose knew that Madame Maxime was half-giant, like Hagrid, but she had been accustomed to Hagrid since she was little. This woman was his match in size, with rich, olive-toned skin and shining black hair tied in a knot on the back of her head. Her large, dark eyes took in the students below her, who were sliding off their large mounts.

"Eet is so good to return to 'Ogwarts," sighed Madame Maxime as she rose from her seat. "Minerva, I am so grateful for you 'aving us 'ere."

Her students looked less grateful. They stood behind her in two neat lines--there were an even dozen of them, Rose counted--and began rubbing their hands together. Their robes fluttered in the light breeze, and it was apparent that the fabric was not very thick.

"They're dressed for summer," critiqued Albus, looking at the silk robes. "They didn't even bring sensible gloves!" Their gloves, too, were made of a fine silk.

Madame Maxime led her group to the side as she continued talking to McGonagall. It seemed generally acceptable to begin conversations; James tapped Rose and Albus on the shoulders, wondering aloud how the Durmstrang delegation would arrive.

"Dad said they arrived in the lake when he was here," he put forward, "but he also said that Beauxbatons came in a flying carriage."

"I guess they don't want to do the same thing twice," said Rose, wondering how Hogwarts arrived at the other schools for the tournament.

A hush fell over the crowd, and all attention went to the lake. The dark water had begun to bubble, and Rose wondered if Durmstrang was going to repeat their appearance after all. But water began to spout from the lake in pillars reaching twenty, thirty feet in the air. The fountains broadened, then began to fall away in thin streams. These streams revealed students clad in blood-red robes.

"They're from up north," recounted Rose to Albus, unable to keep back the knowledge no matter how much she was awed. He was staring at the delegation, his bright green eyes wide. "That's why they're covered in furs. They need to stay warm."

The lake's surface smoothed over as the students walked across the water onto the ground. Remarkably, they were completely dry, even though the water was still settling and spraying up around their feet. The last to appear from the lake was a middle-aged man with dark brown hair that was just beginning to go grey. A thick beard obscured part of his face. Small eyes scanned the scene as their owner stepped onto the grass by his students.

"Minerva," he said in a low, rich voice. "It is an honor and a pleasure to make your acquaintance once more."

The Hogwarts students exchanged opinions on the new arrivals as the Durmstrang head greeted McGonagall. "That must be Vikenti Ivanov," murmured Rose, tapping Albus' arm. "I tried looking him up after Evariste mentioned him, but there's not much information out there about Durmstrang."

McGonagall led the two foreign schools into the castle, with the Hogwarts students trailing behind. The Beauxbatons students still held their crossed golden wands, which occasionally shot out a handful of stars. They looked around haughtily, as if inspecting something beneath them.

"Their magic is impressive," allowed James, stooping down to snatch up one of the stars, "but they're a bit full of themselves, aren't they?" As he spoke, the blue-clad students lifted their brows at the Great Hall, and not in an impressed way. "So we've got the prisses, then we have the Durmstrangs over there."

"They don't look too bad," offered Albus, watching the Durmstrang students remove their heavy layers. They, at least, seemed to be more appreciative of Hogwarts; some students gaped openly at the enchanted ceiling, which displayed a beautiful sunset.

"They've evil," insisted James. "Durmstrang encourages the Dark Arts--they teach it." He glared at the foreigners suspiciously, as if he expected them to suddenly start shooting off curses.

Rose noticed one boy who was clearly younger than the rest. He seemed about James' ago, if not a bit younger. He looked around the room, eyes wide, as another student led his to the Slytherin table. After making sure the younger boy was settled in, the elder student exchanged a few words with Ivanov and exited the Hall.

"Going to case out the place, no doubt," grumbled James, noticing the older boy leave. "I'll be keeping an eye on that one..."

McGonagall rose, and the room quieted. Some of the Beauxbatons students glanced around the room from their spots at the Ravenclaw table, obviously surprised, but Rose could not tell at what.

"I would like to extend the warmest welcome to our foreign students," she began. "The Triwizard Tournament is an incredible event that brings together the three most affluent magical educators in Europe. It is my dearest and most sincere hope that you will all make lifelong friends here--or at least, in the spirit of the Tournament, refrain from making any enemies.

"The champions will be selected tomorrow night, but more on that matter later. For now, tuck into the welcoming feast!"

She began to say something more, but the golden platters had filled with food and conversations immediately began.

"I can't wait until I'm a seventh year," said James, filling his plate with pork roast. "Since they moved it to Hogwarts this year, d'ya reckon it'll go back to Beauxbatons next?"

"I guess," said Rose. "Albus, you'll be seventeen at that point, right?"

Albus' eyes widened, knowing where his cousin was headed with her line of inquiry. "No. No way. Not me."

"So you'll chase a Snitch but not a dragon?" teased James. "Dad did both, and he's fine."

"Barely."

"No need to be so grim," said Lysander. Rose blinked in surprise--actually, it was Lorcan. She searched the Ravenclaw table and saw Lysander sitting in his twin's usual spot, eating sautéed asparagus with one hand and flipping the page of a book with the other.

"Didn't feel like spending time with the Beauxbatons delegation?" guessed Rose, surprised. She couldn't see Lorcan sharing James' hasty opinion of them--at least, not based off of a moment's impression.

Lorcan glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, them? Nah. Just thought I'd say hi."

Albus laughed and James shook his head, though Rose noticed that his gaze kept returning to the Ravenclaw table. The Beauxbatons students picked through the food, though it was nearly impossible to dislike a Hogwarts feast.

When the desserts appeared, Rose saw the small Durmstrang boy look around nervously, then slide away from the Slytherin table. No one noticed the young boy exit the hall, pushing the large doors open only enough to allow himself to slip through.

Rose glanced around her; James and Albus had begun an animated conversation about the International Quidditch League; Lorcan was inspecting a platter of plain crepes with confusion; Tia Marsh was digging through her bag while arguing with Liam O'Grady.

"I'll be right back," said Rose, hoping none of them would notice.

"No you won't," said Lorcan, not looking up from the crepes. "And they're changing your password, so get back early."

Rose filed that away in her brain as she left the table. Lorcan had a tendency to be correct--she had learned that at a very young age. Everyone was too focused on the feat to notice one first year slip away.

She had no plan on how to follow the Durmstrang boy, or even a reason why.

There was a high-pitched grating sound outside, followed by a heavy thud. Rose slipped through the main doors to see an immense ship settling into port on one side of the lake. Further along the grounds, down the gentle hill, rested a powder-blue carriage larger than the average house.

Rose supposed the foreign students had to stay somewhere, new entrance or no. In the light shed by the lanterns outside of the ship, she saw a small figure scurry into the shadows and down the hill towards Hagrid's cabin. Without a second thought, Rose followed.

The fire that burned unattended in Hagrid's hut illuminated the small Durmstrang boy. The light flickered through the windows, putting the boy's face into heavy relief.

A twig snapped as Rose drew near. The boy spun, wand already out. Rose pulled hers from her robe pocket, trying to remember the spells they had learned so far in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Her mind drew a blank..

The boy looked Rose over and slowly lowered his wand. After an indecisive moment, Rose did the same.

"I must apologise," said the boy, his English touched with a moderate accent. "Ve're not supposed... Professor Ivanoff... I thought you vere someone else," he finally said.

Rose was now close enough to see what the boy had been attracted to by Hagrid's hut. The large winged horses were a few feet away, their red eyes flashing in the low light. In the hand that Rose had previously thought empty, the boy held a large red apple.

"It's fine," she said dismissively. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"

The boy turned back to the oversized palominos eagerly. "Ve don't have them at home," he said, holding the apple out to one of them. "Ve have Granians, but they are not at all friendly." An Abraxan sniffed at the apple, then turned away with a derisive snort.

Rose struck her wand in her robe and held out a hand. "I'm Rose Weasley," she said.

The boy stuck both apple and wand into a concealed pocket in his robes. "Dmitri Romolov," he said, shaking her hand.

"You seem a bit young to be entering yourself in the Tournament," Rose had to point out. "Aren't you concerned about the Age Line?"

"I do not intend entry," explained Dmitri. "My brother is. Professor Ivanoff vants him as our champion. He gets to do vhatever he vants."

"And he wanted you to come?" guessed Rose, and Dmitri nodded. "You don't seem too excited about that."

"I am not vanting him to compete," said Dmitri glumly. "It is too much of the danger."

"Oh, it isn't all that dangerous anymore!" exclaimed Rose. "The Age Line makes it so much better, and McGonagall is so careful with everything..." She stopped, seeing that her words did nothing to comfort the boy. "So, was that your brother who left the Hall before?"

"Rafael does not do the travel well," said Dmitri. "He vas ill on the way here. I tell him, go rest on the ship. I knew Professor Ivanoff vould be angry if he did not get vell."

Rose resisted the urge to ask a thousand questions about Durmstrang's headmaster, about whom she had been able to learn so little. Instead, she said, "Tell me about the Granians?"

Dmitri launched into a full description of the nastier breed of winged horses. "Steel grey," he explained, "and looking like storm clouds. They have the sharp teeth, for eating meat, and their vings are made dark, metal feathers."

Their conversation only drew to a close when a throng of students exited the castle. "The feast must be over," said Rose, only mildly disappointed that she had missed the end. "Where are all of you going to sleep?"

"On the ship," replied Dmitri. "I must go or they vill be missing me."

They agreed to see each other at breakfast the next day, then Dmitri slid away to rejoin his school. Rose waited until the Beauxbatons delegation had entered their carriage, then crept back to the castle.

She slid in behind a group of Gryffindors climbing up to the seventh floor. It wasn't until she reached the common room that Rose realized that Albus and James--alright, at least Albus--must have been worried about her.

"Where were you?" hissed Albus as she slid through the portrait hole. "I had to tell Victoire that you had gone to bed early--she wanted to know where you were."

"I'm surprised she even noticed I was gone," commented Rose before recounting a brief summary of what had occurred. "I told him to come find us during breakfast."

"I can just hear James now," grumbled Albus. "What were you thinking? Don't you know all Durmstrangs are evil?

Rose thought this over as she prepared for bed. Really, James had no foundation for making such an accusation. Durmstrang was known for producing a Darker standard of wizard than Hogwarts--that much was true, but not reason enough to say that all students who enrolled in the institute were Dark.

She finally dismissed the concept as closed-minded. She, for one, was looking forward to the opportunities presented by the Tournament.

The next morning, Rose was shook awake by Tia Marsh. "Wake up, Rose!" she laughed. "We're all going down to watch the Goblet!"

Stories from her childhood flooded her mind--the Goblet of Fire, a magical device that would choose a Triwizard Champion from each school. Students of a legal age--that is to say, seventeen--would have a twenty-four hour time period in which to submit their names. Rose realized that that time must have started after the feast the night before. The champions would be chosen that day--Halloween.

The Great Hall already had decorations up for the holiday. Miniature pumpkins floated around the enchanted ceiling, which, disregarding the early hour, displayed an orange sunset. The usual dining tables were absent; instead, a large wooden goblet sat in the middle of the room on a plain stool.

"The Goblet of Fire," remarked Albus, handing Rose a slice of toast. "From what Dad said, I expected it to be...bigger."

Rose had to agree. "I'm sure it seemed a fair bit larger when it was spitting his name up," she replied. She often wondered about the series of spells and enchantments that the Goblet must have undergone in the years following her parents'. It had been hoodwinked to believe that there was a fourth school competing in the Triwizard Tournament, so before the next Tournament could commence, that misconception had to be set straight.

Or perhaps not, she thought. Perhaps they left it as it was, seeing how no one knew the name of the school Harry Potter was entered under. Perhaps it was left as a mystery. (Perhaps she was looking too far into it, she chastised herself as she took a bite of toast.)

The Durmstrang delegation entered, Ivanoff leading his students directly towards the Goblet. He stopped short of the glistening gold Age Line, put in place by McGonagall and reviewed by both Ivanoff and Madame Maxime to prevent underage wizards from entering their names. The students continued forward, each one holding a folded parchment square that bore their name and school. Only one boy stayed back.

"That's Dmitri," whispered Rose, nudging Albus, who was focusing on the older students. "The boy standing back with Ivanoff. He said his brother Rafael is Durmstrang's chosen..."

She could not pick out one of the Durmstrang students as bearing an uncanny resemblance to Dmitri until one boy stepped out of the Age Line. He immediately went to Dmitri's side and lay a hand on his shoulder. It was obvious then that their hair was the same shade of sandy-brown, and Dmitri seemed to be developing his older brother's strong jaw.

"Congratulations, Rafael," Ivanoff said, clapping the older boy on the shoulder. "This night will be..."

The Durmstrang headmaster continued, but Rose lost his words as the Beauxbatons delegation entered. Madame Maxime was wearing dark blue robes, and her hair was pulled up in its usual tight bun. Her students, both male and female, filed in behind her in two neat lines.

"They're saying it's their year to win," James said, coming to stand next to his brother. "I was out at Hagrid's looking at Beauxbatons' horses. Did you know they're Abraxan?"

"Yes," said Rose, realizing that she had not told James of her night yet. She opened her mouth, then thought twice and shut it. He was still too biased to understand her budding friendship with who he thought of as 'the enemy'.

Dmitri, however, did not share her qualms about the introduction. He walked over to Rose as Ivanoff continued his conversation with Rafael. "Good morning," he greeted with a grin. "Did you sleep vell?"

James' surprise was almost comical. "Very well, thank you," said Rose hurriedly. "Dmitri, these are James and Albus Potter. James, Albus, I would like you to meet Dmitri Romolov."

"How do you do?" asked Dmitri formally. His grasp on English seemed rocky at times, but he was impeccably polite. When he's not pointing a wand at you, Rose amended silently.

Albus, having been forewarned, recovered first. "It's very nice to meet you," he said, shaking Dmitri's outstretched hand. "Rose told me about you last night."

James shot Rose a glare and said nothing. Noticing the cold silence, Dmitri said awkwardly, "I must be returning to my brother. Ve must eat and then return to the ship. Vould you like to come?"

Though desperately wishing to accept the offer, Rose had to refuse. "That's very kind, but we can't," she said. "We have work to do, but we'll see you later, alright?"

Dmitri returned to Rafael, who automatically put a protective hand on the younger boy's shoulder. Ivanoff did not so much as spare Dmitri a glance as he continued his conversation.

James turned to Rose. "What was that?" he asked incredulously. "You've met one of them?"

"I'll have you know that Dmitri is nothing like you thought they'd be," retorted Rose, immediately defensive. "You didn't have to be outright rude, you know."

Unable to retain even a momentary anger towards his cousin, James rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just keep him away from me and we'll be fine."

Keeping Dmitri away wasn't a concern. The Durmstrang students returned to their ship and remained there for the duration of the day. The Hogwarts students lazed around, ignoring the textbooks that lay abandoned in their common rooms.

"You'll be sorry about your laziness come Potions tomorrow," sighed Rose, though she herself had yet to look up the properties of wormwood when used in a Sleeping Draught. She, Albus, and James were sprawled out in a corner of the Great Hall, watching the miniature pumpkins chase each other around the room. Lysander leaned against a pillar, a textbook open in his lap.

"Rose, I was supposed to tell you that Lorcan went key-hunting," Lysander said absently, flipping the page.

Lorcan reappeared just as the students were ushered out of the Great Hall. "We need to prepare for the feast," said McGonagall, waving the protesting students away. "The tables must be replaced, the Goblet must be moved--go wait in your common rooms until it is time to eat!" she finally snapped when James tried to slip back inside.

"But Professor, I left--"

"Go! Now!"

Voicing their various complaints, the Gryffindors headed for their common room. They passed a group of Beauxbatons students who were looking around as if lost.

"Excuse me," said Rose, catching their attention. "Do you need help finding something?"

They regarded her loftily. "Non," said one boy, "Nous ne sommes pas--"

"Oui," interrupted one of his companions. She had deep mahogany hair tied at the nape of her neck. "Do you know ze way to ze Great 'All? We cannot work with zeese stairways."

"Sure," said Rose, "but it's closed until the feast. Just follow this corridor to the end, then take the staircases as far down as they go. The door on your right is the one you're looking for."

"Merci," the girl said before leading her friends away. They took up a conversation in rapid French, and though Rose couldn't understand the language, she thought she heard Weasley and Potter as the students faded away.

The feast could not go by quickly enough. All of the students ate their food rapidly, barely stopping to converse with their neighbors. Rose had been hoping that Dmitri would sit with the Gryffindors, but she saw him being pulled to the Slytherin table by his brother. She offered a friendly smile and a wave before sitting with Albus.

When the food was finally consumed--"I think I'm going to be ill," groaned Albus--McGonagall stood. Directly before the Head Table rested the Goblet of Fire, tall flames still glowing blue. An immediate hush fell over the room; everyone had been waiting for this moment.

"The Goblet of Fire is about to proclaim the names of the Triwizard Champions," announced McGonagall, her clear voice ringing through the room. The students shifted in anticipation. "If--and for three of you, when--your name is called, please proceed to the antechamber located on the side of the Hall." She gestured to a plain wooden door. "Now, this--"

The Goblet's flames suddenly flashed red, and a strained hush fell over the Hall. McGonagall, not entirely prepared, leaned forward with her arm fully outreached to catch the bit of parchment that flew from the flames.

"Well," she said, resettling herself. "It appears that the Goblet is ready to commence." She unfolded the parchment and read the name it bore. "The champion for Durmstrang Academy will be Romolov."

Cheers rose from the Slytherin table. Rafael stood, grinning abashedly. Dmitri met Rose's eyes with a look of dejection. At the Head Table, Ivanoff pounded on the table and cheered along with his students.

"Awfully presumptuous, isn't he?" said James scornfully as the cheers continued. "You know, most people would use their whole name."

Rose remembered what Dmitri had said: He's Ivanoff's chosen champion... It was now obvious that that was true. She was surprised that the other Durmstrang students had been allowed to submit their names at all.

Rafael exited the Hall into the antechamber where the champions would meet as the flames flashed scarlet once more. The cheers died down as McGonagall caught the next square of parchment.

"The champion for Beauxbatons Academy," she read, "will be Mariette Croisseux."

The girl who had spoken to Rose in the corridor stood, her smile composed and calm. "The Beauxbatons students don't look as happy for their champion as the Durmstrang students were," remarked James as the blue-clad students clapped politely. Indeed, some of them were shooting less-than-pleased glances at their classmate, who held her head high as she strode across that Hall.

That left only Hogwarts. One final flash of red--one last piece of parchment--and, "The Hogwarts champion will be Alistair Trimble."

Rose clapped automatically as she scanned the room for the unfamiliar name. A boy rose from the head of the Slytherin table--it was the same boy who had paid unusually close attention to Scorpius Malfoy's sorting, Rose realized as he stood. He had dark brown hair and eyes that seemed to focus on everything at once. He grinned in a friendly manner, saluted the Slytherins, waved at the Hall in general, then turned and entered the antechamber.

Ignoring McGonagall's closing remarks, Rose leaned forward and whispered to James. "Who was that?"

"Alistair Trimble," he responded unhelpfully. "He's in Slytherin."

Rose rolled her eyes; she knew that much. She had to wait until after the feast's official end to gain more information.

"Whenever I see him, he's with a group of his cronies," said James when asked about Alistair once more. "They're always strutting around the school like they own it."

"He's a disgusting boy," remarked Victoire coldly, overhearing their conversation. When Rose asked for more information, however, Victoire sent her off to bed, saying, "You must get your rest. Classes resume as normal in the morning."