Rose Weasley and the Callamitus Clause

Contrary to being upset at finding someone eavesdropping on his conversation, Rafael looked almost... relieved? "Rosaline," he greeted, walking away from Alistair. "Perhapsing you can help me." Rose was alarmed- she did not see a place for herself in what looked to be an argument between champions- but Rafael continued. "I am looking for the classroom of Professor Flitwick."

"Oh," she said, surprised. "Not a problem. It's-"

"Rafael, I'm going there as well," interrupted Alistairsmoothly. "Why don't I show you the way?"

When Rafael responded, his tone was icy. "The girl vill show me," he said, not turning.

Rose led Rafael back out to the main stairway. They did not speak until they reached the third floor, where Flitwick's classroom was located. Rose bit her lip, trying to repress her curiosity.

"I feel I must be apologizing," Rafael said abruptly.

"Not at all!" said Rose, taken aback. "I wasn't listening to your conversation, really, I was just passing by when-"

He silenced her with a wave of his hand. "I do not think you vere being a listener," he said. "I must ask you to not speak of the... the..." He struggled to find the word. "The conversation," he finally said. "Do not mention of it to Dmitri. I fear it vould be upsetting."

"Of course I won't," agreed Rose. She only intended to tell two people of the matter, and neither of them was Dmitri.

"I give you much thanks," said Rafael upon reaching Flitwick's room. "I have been asked to come for... they vey my vand?" He wore a dubious expression. "I do not know. It is a happening for the Tournament."

That explained why Alistairhad said he was heading to Flitwick's room as well. "Best of luck on the... weighing," offered Rose. Rafael smiled and thanked her once more before entering the classroom.

Rose tried to sort out what she had witnessed between the two champions. Had they been arguing over the Tournament? But Rafael had mentioned Dmitri. And then there had been the incident in Foreign Studies.... She still hadn't figured out what that was about.

She was so consumed in her thoughts that she did not see the tiny set of witches until she had almost walked into them. "I'm sorry," she apologised hastily, taking the pair in. They were identical twinswho seemed school aged, or slightly younger. However, they did not wear school robes - instead,they were cladin matching magenta suits, with colour co-ordinated bows nestling atop their brown bobs. Rose thought the ensembles were odd on such young girls.

"Not a problem," one said in a clear, ringing voice. "Would you happen to know the way to the Charms classroom?"

"These staircases have gotten us all backwards," said the other.

Rose was terribly confused. The voices matched the small bodies- the girls might have been as young as eight or nine- but the words and expressions did not. "Of course," she said at last. "It's right this way." She turned and headed back in the direction she had come from. The twins followed, their identical kitten heels clicking against the marble floor in eerie unison.

"We've been to the castle before," said one of them, "but I swear, each time we're here, the staircases are never where they were!"

"They move," explained Rose absently.

"Ah."

"We're here for the wand weighing," said the other twin- or perhaps it was still the first. Their voices were as matching as their faces, and without turning, Rose could not tell them apart. "Do you remember where it was last time?"

Rose thought the question was directed to her, but a twin answered before she could. "Last time it was here."

"So it was. Alright, then, the time before that."

"Durmstrang, but they didn't want us there like this."

"But we snuck in as those lovely sisters, remember?"

"So we did, didn't we?"

It was a relief to finally reach the Charms room. "This is it," announced Rose, grateful to be leaving their company.

The twins looked around the corridor, appearing mildly confused. "I suppose it is. Do you reckon that, along with the stairways, they change the rooms around?"

"No, because then how would the students make it to their classes?"

"They manage alright with the stairs."

Rose slipped away, but before she reached the end of the corridor, one of the twins spoke again. "It's Rosaline, isn't it?"

Startled, Rose turned. "What?"

The other twin- or perhaps it was the first, she still couldn't tell- snapped her fingers. "Rosaline Weasley, that's it," she said with a satisfied smile.

"Well- well, yes," Rose stuttered, unsure of what else she could reply. She was spared the need to say anything; both girls spun and walked through Flitwick's door, side by side.

By the time Rose reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts room, she had still not made sense of anything that had happened since lunch. "Where were you?" asked Albus after being unfrozen- they were in the midst of learning Freezing Charms. He was paired off with Dominic Woodard, who convenientlytook this moment to ask Professor Evariste a very long and complicatedquestion.

Rose recounted her afternoon to Albus, who was no less confused than she. "And then they just turned and went into the classroom," she finished with a sigh.

Albus took a moment to think over everything Rose had said. "Well, the part with Alistair is definitely something to watch," he finally said thoughtfully. "Didn't you say something happened with them during Foreign Studies?"

"They were staring each other down," said Rose. "It's really weird."

"Maybe it's just a champion thing," suggested Albus, but Rose shook her head.

"No, I know it's more than that. And if it was just about the Tournament, wouldn't we be seeing more of the same with the Beauxbaton champion?"

Mariette Croisseux had thus far remained the quietest champion. From what Rose had been told, Mariette only attended Foreign Studies; the rest of the time, she took private lessons with Madame Maxime, and remained in the Beauxbatons carriage during free time and meals. Other Beauxbatons students roamed the castle and grounds, but their champion remained silent and hidden.

During Foreign Studies, she gave off the impression of quiet superiority. She always sat with a gaggle of her friends, to whom Madame Maxime's rule of separation and integration did not seem to apply. She was only on speaking terms with one student outside the Beauxbatons delegation: Victoire Weasley.

"I'm the only one who speaks her language," scoffed Victoire one night in the common room. Louis had been partaking in a particularly crude imitation of Mariette, stemming from his distaste for her headmistress. He had not gotten over Maxime's public discussion of his family's choices. "Of course she speaks to me. I can speak back."

The Foreign Studies lessons were always highlights of the week. Madame Maxime came to the conclusion in early November that all of the students (besides her own, of course) were disrespectful and had to be taught manners.

"You stand when your 'eadmaster or 'eadmistress enters ze room," she began her third lesson. The Hogwarts students glanced around; the Beauxbatons students were, indeed, standing. They only sat when their headmistress did. "Zis extends to ze 'ead of any school. When I enter, you stand. When Vikenti enters, you stand. When Minerva enters, you stand."

They practiced until every student leapt to their feet as soon as Madame Maxime passed through the doors. "Better," she allowed. "You still 'ave a ways to go."

When it came to providing examples to the class, she invariably used Mariette and Victoire. "See 'ow Mariette walks? It is ze walk of a lady." "Victoire, curtsy like zat again- now, everyone, keep zat move in mind. It will serve you well, done just zat way."

Maxime's lessons quickly grew to annoy the boys. "I can't believe I just spent an hour of my life watching all of you curtsy," groaned James as he collapsed into a chair by the Gryffindors' fireplace. "That is an hour of my life I will never get back!"

"Don't complain," retorted Rose sourly "Did you have to do the stupid curtsies?". She had not enjoyed the lesson either, and now had to concentrate on a Transfiguration essay that she should have already finished. After twenty minutes, though, it was clear that she was not going to get any work done in the crowded common room.

She told Albus that she'd be in the library, then gathered her books and slid through the portrait hole. Even in the library, though, she could not concentrate on her work. Her mind kept returning to Alistair Trimble and the confrontation with Rafael in the corridor. What did all of it mean?

Eventually, she pushed the matter out of her mind and forced herself to begin the essay. When she was finished, she scowled at the words. It was hardly her best work, but it would have to do.

She was packing her beg to return to the common room when Briar Longbottom plopped down in the seat across from her.

"Hello, Rose," he said glumly. "What're you working on?"

"I just finished up the Transfiguration essay," she said. "Briar, what's wrong? You look half-dead."

"I went to work on Stunning Spells with Professor Evariste," he explained wearily. "It was...long."

"But I bet you're better for the practice," said Rose encouragingly. "C'mon, we'll stop by the Hospital Wing. Madame Chang will have something to pick you up."

The nurse gave Briar a small glass of Energizing Elixir. "This should help, dear," she said kindly. "I made it myself earlier today. It's from a weaker batch, so it shouldn't keep you up terribly late."

Rose had noticed a colorful magazine open on one of the unoccupied cots. Curious, she picked it up. A large, moving picture that covered one of the open pages caught and held her attention. The three Triwizard Champions looked up at her, waving and (mostly) smiling.

Mariette Croisseux, in her powder-blue Beauxbatons robes, wore a flirtatious half-smile. Her dark brown hair was loosely pinned so that it fell over one shoulder. On either side of her stood Alistair and Rafael. Rafael looked serious and strong, his solid jaw raised in defiance. Alistair was charming with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eye. Every now and then, he would duck his head abashedly, but the smile remained.

There was an article on the opposite page, titled, "Wands at the Ready: The Triwizard Tournament." Rose sat on the cot and began to read.

Ten minutes later, she put the magazine down, thoughtful. She ignored Briar, who had struck up a conversation with Madame Chang, and reviewed what she had read. The article contained interviews with all three champions. That was no surprise; there had been a similar piece the previous morning in the Daily Prophet, which she had delivered every morning.

No, this piece was interesting because of what questions the champions had been asked- or, more specifically, what they had not been asked. The interviewer had not posed a single question about what the champions expected from the Tournament, or what they planned to do with the prize money (a thousand Galleons, the gold Wizarding coin of the highest value), or what they thought of the danger. Instead, the champions had been asked exclusively about their personal lives.

Which was still nothing unusual, Rose reasoned to herself, but... there had been something in one of the questions that had caught her attention. She flipped through the interview, trying to find it. There it was, on the second page, a few lines under Alistair's picture.

"I was raised by a loving family in Cheshire," he had said when asked about his family. "They were both wizards and agreed to adopt me from my uncle Damien, who had taken me in when my parents couldn't keep me. See, my mother was a witch, but didn't tell my father, who was a Muggle. She thought he'd leave her, so instead, she gave me up and moved away with him. Damien was in the middle of touring the world, so he couldn't keep me and placed me with my parents- I think of my foster family as my real family, though we share no blood."

"That's precious, just precious," the interviewer said. "Now, we have to ask about the inscription on your necklace. What does it mean?"

"Trijuska?" Our interviewee turns his head, looking a little embarrassed. "It's a family heirloom, actually, the only thing I have from my biological family. I always keep it on."

Was that it? Was it the fact that he hadn't answered the question that bothered Rose? No, she was certain that she had heard that word before. Trijuska...

"Oh! That's just- that's just nothing," said Madame Chang quickly, taking the magazine from Rose. She had apparently finished her conversation with Briar. She shooed the students out of the hospital wing, looking suddenly flustered.

As she brushed out her hair that night before bed, she turned to her roommates. If anyone could tell her about magazines, it would be them. "Have you been reading up on the tournament?" she asked innocently. "I saw this magazine-"

Tia laughed as the other girls squealed. "Which one do you want?" asked Mary Deverill, yanking a box out from under her bed. "I'm the ultimate fanatic when it comes to these things. I don't bother with the Prophet, that's all trash. No, you find the best-"

"No, that's fine," said Rose quickly. "I actually just read part of a recent interview-"

"My issues for the month haven't arrived yet," sighed Loren Nicosa as Kara Welsh sprawled across her bed to get a look at Mary's copies.

"They're amazing," said Mary with excitement. "I mean, you have to see some of the pictures they have of that Durmstrang boy."

"I only read one of the articles-" began Rose.

"Was it the one about Oliver Wood?" squealed Kara, flipping her plait over her shoulder. "He's done amazing things with Puddlemore-"

"He's done amazing things with his eyes!" breathed Loren heavily. "Every time he's featured, I just about die."

Rose had remembered the reason she never tried to sustain a conversation with these three giddy, chatty girls. She considered trying some more questions, but the girls continued talking about Oliver Wood, who Rose didn't see the appeal of. He had attended a few meals with Albus' family and hers, and he seemed nice enough, but she didn't fancy him. Shaking her head, Tia came to sit next to Rose on her bed.

"Just ignore them," she said. "I do."

Rose smiled. As she looked back to the giddy girls, their magasines vanished. A second later, the door flew open.

"Bed," snapped Victoire. "All of you. It's far... far too late for you all..." She left without finishing her thought.

"What's the matter with your cousin?" Mary asked Rose. "She looks like she's been Confounded or something."

The girls laughed, but Rose slid off her bed. "I'll be right back," she said, leaving the room. She was in the room closest to the bottom of the girls' staircase; logically, Victoire would be at the top. Instead, Rose found her sitting between the landing for the third and fourth years.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Victoire's face was covered by her long hair, and her hands clutched a letter. Rose saw that the handwriting on it was not Teddy Lupin's before Victoire shoved it away.

"Nothing," she said softly. "If you'll excuse me, I must go send a letter." Without another word to her cousin, Victoire stood and resumed her walk up the stairs. Rose returned to her room, utterly confused and mildly concerned.

Victoire was not at breakfast the next morning, but by then, Rose had other things to concentrate on.

"Ve have less than a veek until the first task," said Dmitri glumly as he spooned eggs onto his plate. He was missing his usual exuberant expression. "So few days."

Rose glanced at Albus; with all their time with the Durmstrang boys, they typically avoided the topic of the Tournament. "You're not looking forward to it, are you?" she asked.

"No," he grunted. "They have been told not anything about the task. 'Bring your vand.' Vhat can you do vith only a vand?"

"It vill be plenty," said Rafael quietly. It was one of the few times he had spoken in the presence of the Gryffindors. Over meals, he typically remained silent, letting his dynamic brother carry on conversations. He only spoke if it was to explain something or reassure Dmitri, as was the case now. "You do not vorry about me. You vorry about other things."

But all of the school seemed to be abuzz about the first task. Heads turned when Alistair passed in the halls. He was constantly surrounded by a group of Slytherins, both in his year and years below him.

"Those are the Payne brothers," said James as the Slytherins entered the Hall for lunch on Friday. Two burly boys flanked Alistair, bearing a striking resemblance to each other. "Delbert and Faustino Payne. Faustino was supposed to finish school last year, but he failed all of his exams."

Even the teachers couldn't keep their minds off the upcoming task. "Just, oh, talk amongst yourselves," surrendered Flitwick after his third attempt at starting the lesson on Monday failed. He was as nervous as the students, bouncing on the stool he perched atop.

Rose turned the page of her book, ignoring the conversations around her. Albus looked at what she was working on and sighed. "Still looking for- what was it?"

"Trijuska," repeated Rose, "and keep your voice down."

"Rose, if you don't know what it is, no one else here does either."

She hated admitting that he was correct. And it hardly mattered, except for the fact that it stuck in the back of her mind like an unreachable itch.

Five minutes before the class was schedules to end, one of the paned glass windows flew open. A thin scroll of paper zoomed in, halted in front of Flitwick, and unfurled itself. The man read it quickly, then squealed and toppled off his stool. Before he could right himself, the message had disintegrated.

"Must go attend to... they finally... and we were all worried..." muttered the professor as the students looked on in confusion. He smiled, slid off the platform, and was halfway out the door before he thought to call back, "Class dismissed!"

That night, Dmitri could only pick at his food. "I am feeling ill," he announced, rising suddenly from the table. "Please excuse me." He quickly strode from the Hall, ignoring the stares from other tables.

Surprisingly, Rafael did not get up to follow his brother. "He is vanting to be alone," he explained wearily. "I understand."

"He's really trying to be supportive of you," said Rose. She felt the need to stand up for her friend. "I mean, I suppose the Tournament is dangerous..."

"You know it is not," said Rafael bluntly. "The tasks have been made as to not have the deaths. I do not vorry."

"But Dmitri does," replied Rose.

"I know." Rafael paused uncertainly. "You vill vatch him for me tomorrow? He really is liking you, which the other boys are not understanding."

Rose felt a faint blush rise up her cheeks as she nodded. "We all like him, too," she said, Albus nodding his agreement. Even James grunted; if it was an objection, it was a weak one.

The morning of November twenty-eighth dawned dry and cool. Rose went down to the Great Hall, where Albus had already begun to eat.

"Any sign of Dmitri?" Albus, mouth full, could only shake his head. "I hope he comes to breakfast. We're free after lunch, right?" A nod from Albus. "Well, that's something. Just double Potions and History of Magic to get through."

Everyone was jittery, even though the first years didn't know their champion like the other students did. Some pretended to- "We were having quite the talk just a few days ago," bragged Callum Leach. He stopped when someone made a joke about what Evariste might think; he had gained a quick reputation for the professor's least favorite student.

In celebration of the first task- "It's nothing to look so glum about. This is a happy occasion!"-Slughorn assigned the brewing of a Triumph Potion. "It doesn't actually turn the odds in your favor," the teacher clarified. "No, but it gives you the most wonderful feeling of being on top of the world. I wouldn't advise taking it alone, however, as you might go out and do something truly witless."

Rose waited for Albus as long as she could; after breakfast, he had said that he wanted to return to the Gryffindor Tower and grab a new quill. She had offered to lend him one of hers, but he had been insistent. Now, as the final bell rang, he was nowhere to be found.

Slughorn noticed only as he was calling roll. "Where is young Albus?" he asked, turning to Rose. She and Albus were permanent partners.

"He had to- er-" stuttered Rose, trying to think of something to buy Albus time.

But Slughorn suddenly nodded understandingly. "Ah, he saw his dad, didn't he?"

"What?"

"I suppose it's proper time to tell all of you," said Slughorn thoughtfully. "Well, the first task is only hours away, and as they are already here- this year, three of the judges are previous Triwizard champions. One from Beauxbatons, one from Durmstrang, and our very own Harry Potter, representing Hogwarts' win over twenty years ago."

Not another remark on Albus' absence was made. Slughorn put them all to making the Triumph Potion, which Rose was fully capable of doing alone. Others, however, had more difficulty.

Across the dungeon, a cauldron flew into the air, then crashed to the stone floor with a resounding bang. The students standing near it leapt back as Slughorn sighed deeply.

"Crispin, are you trying to destroy my classroom?" he asked, with deceptive patience. Crispin Orthos, a Slytherin boy, had drenched the bottom of his robe in the potion, which was slowly shooting shining golden tendrils up the back of the dark fabric. "Go to the Hospital Wing. Madame Chang should have... something for that."

Crispin left the room in a hurry; his robe was starting to get heavy. The Slytherin students perched on their stools as Slughorn whipped out his wand and siphoned away the spilled potion.

"Shame," he said mildly. "Scorpius, continue working with Rose over there. She's a good potion-maker- certainly superior to Crispin."

Rose almost lost what Slughorn had said in the compliment- but then Scorpius picked up his copy of A Beginner's Guide to Potions and crossed the dungeon. Both halves of the room stared as the first inter-house pair formed.

Scorpius nodded to Rose, who immediately returned the gesture. He had white-blonde hair, and with his unnaturally pale eyes and pallid skin tone, he almost resembled one of the wispy Hogwarts ghosts. He looked even lighter in contrast to the flat black robe and dark, vibrant green accents that marked him as a Slytherin. Silently, he took a large Lily root and began to slice it.

Taking a deep breath, Rose returned to stirring the potion, ignoring the eyes that were on her and her new partner. When it was time to add the Lily root, she only had to turn to him; he added them in small handfuls, then moved on to slicing the next ingredient. They worked that way for the rest of the hour, building their potion in silence. When Slughorn came around at the end of the class, he was clearly pleased.

"Excellent work, both of you!" he praised. "This potion would cause the most wonderful, if irrational, feeling of success. Rose, this is superior to your collaborations with Albus. Watch him more carefully next time when he is chopping ingredients, and fix whatever he is doing wrong. Scorpius, anything is better than your work with Crispin. Don't let him touch the cauldron anymore."

He emptied their cauldron before moving on. Rose silently packed her bag, and Scorpius did the same. She wondered if swiping some of the potion for Dmitri would have been a good idea, but quickly dismissed the idea. She would never want someone giving her a potion without her knowledge- but then, maybe he would have agreed.... She worried about it for lack of anything else to dountil the bell rang, then hurried to get out of the dungeon. She had to try to find Albus.

Unfortunately, Albus was not in the Gryffindor Common Room, nor was he already in Professor Binns' classroom. Rose was tempted to run down to Hagrid's hut- she, Albus, and James went down there after their Defence double hours if they didn't have something to practice- but had no time before class. Instead, she had to make her way to History of Magic, where shesettled into her seat and took out her book, which they never seemed to need. Binns had it memorized, word for word- she had checked.

Right before the bell rang, Albus and Dmitri ran through the door, both boys laughing. They spotted Rose and joined her at her table, wearing matching grins.

"Where were you?" hissed Rose as the bell rang. As it did, Professor Binns floated through the wall and hovered in front of his lecture podium, precisely as he had done at the start of every lesson that year. Deciding to risk a quiet conversation, Rose continued. "And why is Dmitri here? Shouldn't he be in..." She tried to remember what class James had now, still wondering what the boys had been doing to put a smile on Dmitri's face on today of all days.

"Binns won't notice," Albus mutinously. "I'll explain later, don't worry."

"Good morning, Rose," greeted Dmitri, polite as ever. "How vas Potions?"

She couldn't explain that now. Glaring at Albus, she began to take notes on the Triwizard Tournament of 1614. The only sign that Professor Binns showed that he knew the Tournament was going on was taking time out of class to recount previous Tournaments- most of which ended badly. Belatedly, Rose realized that this wasn't the best class to have brought Dmitri to.

Albus realized the same thing and begin writing notes to Dmitri. They maintained a silent conversation until the bell rang and both of them burst into laughter. Albus crumpled the parchment and handed it to Rose. Rolling her eyes, she poked it with her wand and it went up in cool orange flames. After a few seconds, it was no more than a handful of ashes.

They exchanged stories on their way to lunch. "He put you with Malfoy?" said Albus incredulously, his expression making him look more like James than ever.

"It wasn't that bad," said Rose honestly. "We didn't talk to each other at all. But seriously, where did you go? Did you really run into Uncle Harry?"

"I still can't believe he's here," marveled Albus. "That's... No, I didn't. I went looking for Dmitri, who was actually down at Hagrid's."

"I vanted to be seeing the horses," explained Dmitri. "Albus found me." He glanced at Albus with a conspiratorial smile. "Ve skipped our lessons."

"I was already late to Slughorn's," Albus said defensively. "We went and had tea with Hagrid. Dmitri sampled his fruit cake."

"It vas quite good!" exclaimed Dmitri with a grin. "Different from home. I liked."

"He's not lying, either." Albus assured Rose, looking a little incredulous. "Ate nearly the whole cake."

They made it halfway through lunch before Dmitri fully remembered about the Tournament. His fork clattered down to his plate, and he propped his head in his hands. "Vhat am I will do?" he asked hopelessly. "Rafael is there and I am here and I vant ve vere home."

"It's only the first task," reasoned Albus. "They wouldn't put anything dangerous up first, right? They'd save all of the bad stuff for the end."

Rose thought this would worry Dmitri more for later, but for now, it calmed him a bit. "I suppose," he allowed, picking up his glass of water- one part of Hogwarts he could not get used to, no matter how hard he tried, was the pumpkin juice.

They put themselves in the midst of the throng headed down to the Quidditch pitch. It had been off-limits to students for the past week, though gazing out the window of the Girls' Dormitory, Rose and Tia had agreed that it looked the same. When Rose, Albus, and Dmitri reached the field, however, there were three immense black boxes lined up across the pitch. They were as tall as Hagrid, if not taller, and six times as wide in both directions.

Hagrid himself was sitting near the bottom of the stands next to James. He waved the group over with a large grin. James also smiled, even when Dmitri greeted him.

"Hey, Dmitri," he said, sounding only the slightest bit reluctant. Rose raised a brow at him; he shrugged. "Can't ignore him forever." He turned back to Dmitri, and asked, "Where were you all morning? I almost got worried."

Rose turned to Hagrid as Albus and Dmitri recounted the story of their morning to James. "Slughorn told us this morning that Uncle Harry's here," she said, leaning forward to dodge Albus, who was on Hagrid's immediate left. "Have you seen him yet?"

"Harry?" asked Hagrid, a deep flush rising up his cheeks- he had tied his busy hair back with a rough rope and the aid of what looked like thick, gloppy gel. "I dunno what yer talkin' 'bout. Havn' a clue. High Hippogriffs, it's hot out here. Don' you feel that?"

"No," said Rose slowly. "Hagrid, are you alright?"

A man appearing at the end of the row saved Hagrid from answering. He was nondescript in all ways possible. His hair was of an average length, slightly messy, and a plain blonde-brown. He wore a simple black robe and blended into the other adults filing into the stands. Hagrid, however, looked up and grinned at the stranger.

"'Bout time yeh showed up," he grunted, struggling to rise. With a grin, the man bent down and gave Hagrid a hug, patting him on the back.

"It's good to see you too, Hagrid," the man greeted warmly. "Let me just squeeze in here and we can talk."

Lorcan Scamander poked his head out from behind the man. "Hello, Rose," he greeted as she looked over at him. "Hello, Hagrid. Hello, Uncle Harry. So it is true, that you're here. I overheard the professors talking about it over lunch."

Everyone stared at Lorcan for a long moment, then the man began to laugh. "Very good, Lorcan," said Harry, shaking his head in disbelief. "When you make your schedule for next year, sign up for Divination. Professor Trelawney would love to have you."

Rose raised a brow at her uncle, who came to sit between Hagrid and Albus. Harry's sons were in the middle of an intense conversation behind Rose's back, and neither noticed the appearance of their disguised father.

"So who... Teddy?" guessed Rose, looking over at the judges. Surely enough, there sat Harry Potter, having a discussion with the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. If the real Harry was disguised as a stranger sitting in the stands, then someone else had to be pretending to be Harry up on the judges' platform. Rose's guess was Teddy Lupin, who had inherited his mother's gift of being able to shift every part of his appearance at will. By Harry's nod, she was correct.

"He wanted to see Victoire," he said, "and I wanted to see my sons. Speaking of Victoire, though, how is she? Ted seemed worried."

"She's... I'm not sure, actually," admitted Rose. "I saw her at the end of last week, and she seemed upset about something. Maybe it's good that he's here."

They talked for a few more minutes, then Rose nudged James, who was to her left. "Switch with me?" she asked. "I want to talk to Dmitri." They switched, and Rose watched as Harry told his sons who he was. Albus embraced his father furiously, and though James was more restrained, she could tell he was equally thrilled to see Harry.

"How are you holding up?" Rose asked Dmitri, who was staring at his shoes. He shrugged and continued to stare down.

Rose looked up as a hush fell over the crow. In the middle of the field, atop the immense podium, a tall black man had stood and was waiting for the crowd to settle. The students hushed each other, pointing to the Minister for Magic.

It was time for the first task to begin.