Rose Weasley and the Callamitus Clause

"Greetings, all, and welcome to the Triwizard Tournament." A huge, amplified voice filled the Quidditch pitch. "I am Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic for the United Kingdom, and it is my great pleasure and highest honor to welcome you to the first Triwizard task.

"As you all know, this Tournament was founded to allow schools of magical learning to visit each other, learn each other's ways, and have their students form lifelong bonds. Of course, the way to do that, the Tournament's founders decided, was to pit the students against each other in deadly competitions."

A hearty chuckle from the crowd, and Kingsley continued. ""Today, we have lessened the danger involved in the tasks. There is still considerable risk, however, so the three champions you will see today are all over the legal age- here, it is seventeen."

"Is it different in other places?" asked Lorcan with interest, who had come to sit between James and Rose.

"I think it might be lower in France," said Rose, "but I can't remember. They may have some sort of provisional-"

But Kingsley was continuing. "Here to judge today are the witches and wizards behind each school. From Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Madame Olympe Maxime,"

All of the students promptly jumped to their feet as Maxime rose and waved. For the first time, Rose saw the headmistress laugh openly, without snideness or derision.

"From Durmstrang Institute, Professor Vikenti Ivanoff."

The students, well trained by Madame Maxime's Foreign Studies lessons, stayed on their feet as Kingsley called, "And finally, headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Professor Minerva McGonagall!"

She received the loudest applause from the crowd. She stood, brought her hands brieflytogether in silent thanks, then sat. The students settled back into the stands as Kingsley continued.

"No one knows the struggle of being a Triwizard champion better than these next three. Former champions themselves, here are Petya Kiernoff of Durmstrang, Louis Montageux of Beauxbatons, and Harry Potter of Hogwarts!"

Deafening applause met the last name. Teddy-Harry stood dutifully, nodding and smiling until at last, Kingsley blasted his wand for attention. Rose looked at Harry as the crowd settled.

"Certainly the chance to avoid the overwhelming adoration has nothing to do with the disguise," she muttered, knowing he could hear.

He grinned at her. "Never, Rosie. Can you imagine me missing an opportunity to be lauded over?"

Rose grinned. She knew that her uncle was joking; he had a knack for getting incredibly busy at work just when an invitation arrived for him to attend an event.

"It's safest for me here" he continued, "and it would be terribly inconvenient for me to die just at the , up there on the platform, I am completely vulnerable and at a horrible angle. Here, I am part of a crowd and can quite easily reach the champions if such need arises."

Rose's father had told her often that Harry had changed over the years. "Or maybe he always had all these escape routes in his head," Ron Weasley mused. "At least back then, he didn't share them over dinner. Though I must admit, they have come in handy a number of times..."

Rose understood that it came from Harry's being Head of the Auror Department at the Ministry of Magic. She stored that away as a good defence against Dmitri's nerves- Albus' father did dangerous things for a living, and he was fine. So far, anyway.

"Now," said Kingsley, "the point of this task is to test the champions against the unknown. Each of these boxes-" He gestured to the black boxes on the field. "-will present a series of challenges the champions will have to face. Scoring will be based upon the order that the champions complete the challenge."

At some invisible cue, the three champions strode onto the field, heads held high. Rose squeezed Dmitri's hand; he had begun to shake upon the sight of his brother. Rafael searched the crowd until he found Dmitri. When he did, he patted his chest twice, just below his neck. Dmitri repeated the gesture weakly with his free hand.

Each champion stood next to his or her box. Mariette had begun to inspect hers with interest and mild confusion. Alistair, feet planted firmly on the grass, grinned into the crowd, waving to people that shouted his name. Rafael had something in his hand; it looked to be a necklace. He held it for a moment longer before slipping it around his neck and tucking it into his deep red shirt.

"Champions, you have been informed about the task prior to this point, is that correct?" The three champions nodded. "Then we shall begin. Remember: your task is to bring back the scroll. In three... two... one..." Kingsley's wand shot off like a canon.

The champions stared at their boxes, obviously unsure of what came next. Slowly, the front wall of each slid down. The crowd craned their necks to see what the boxes' insides looked like, but each champion hopped inside as soon as the wall was low enough for them to manage it. Ten seconds later, all three students were gone.

"The champions can no longer hear us," said Kingsley, in a more subdued tone. "A bit about the Pandora's Boxes. Early prototypes of these devices had challenges based off of each champion's individual fears, but as they stand now, each champion will be facing the same series of events. This includes everything from curing a case of Lightning Bumps- many prominent wizards of our time cannot work a simple Healing spell- to stealing a scroll from the nest of a Granian."

Rose and Dmitri exchanged a look and laughed. "It vill not be easy," said Dmitri with relief, "but he vill be remembering them from home. The others vill not."

"See?" asked Rose. "These tasks aren't so dangerous after all."

She did not mention the questions that were burning to be asked: who was keeping watch of them inside the Pandora's Boxes? How much danger did these simulations pose? What sort of safety-

But for Dmitri's sake- and her own; she had grown fond of the silent Rafael- she did not voice any of her concerns. Instead, she turned to her uncle. "Harry?" she said, and he turned. "May I introduce my friend?"

"Of course," he replied. It was the most relaxed Rose had ever seen him in disguise; probably because this was almost recreational.

"Dmitri, I would like to introduce you to my uncle, Harry Potter. Harry, this is the Durmstrang champion's younger brother, Dmitri Romolov."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Harry.

Dmitri gaped. "But you are- and he is- and you-" he stuttered, looking from Harry to Teddy up on the platform with the judges. "Are you Harry Potter truly?"

"I truly am," said Harry with a laugh.

"O moj bože," breathed Dmitri. "Rafael says you are the vun who..." He trailed off, eyes wide.

Rose grinned, watching asHarry managed to hold up a conversation with both his sons and Dmitri, while listening to Hagrid's story about a recent Blast-End Skrewt mating fiasco. Apparently multi-tasking was an acquired skill in politics.

"Look, Dad!" cried Albus at one point, pulling something from his pocket. He sounded much younger than his 11 years. "Look who I got on the way to school!"

Harry regarded the Wizard Card with a soft smile. "I am very glad that you got this," he said quietly. "Keep it, now, and never forget."

Lorcan chose that moment to turn to Rose. "Brilliant idea," he said, and it sounded like he was paying her a compliment. "Rose, do you know how to do a Summoning Spell?"

"In theory," she said, frowning, "but that's pretty advanced for me. Why?"

"I just had an idea about the Finders," he said, pulling one of the thin silver devices out of his pocket. "It would be a stronger spell than the one I originally used, though. I may have to work on it a bit."

Kingsley stood, his amplified voice once again rising above the crowd. "According to our experts," he said, gesturing to a pair of esteemed-looking witches seated behind the judges, "the champions should be approaching or in the midst of their final set of challenges."

Dmitri clasped Rose's hand once more, his air of relaxation gone with the Minister's words. "Breathe," ordered Rose, but the majority of the crowd seemed to be with Dmitri. Chatter died down to murmurs of nervous anticipation. Even Rose revisited her dubious thoughts of the safety measures.

The minutes drew on, until even the whispers dissipated into nothing. Kingsley stood on the judges platform, his face perfectly serene. When a low, grating sound filled the stadium, the Minister didn't so much as flinch.

Mariette Croisseux stepped out of her Box, covered in sweat and splattered with what looked like mud. A large chunk of her robe was missing- it looked like it had been seared off- but her smile was triumphant, and she clutched a thick scroll in her left hand.

The crowd cheered as a team of Healers ran to the Beauxbatons champion. They rushed her to the side of the field, where the other Beauxbatons students hurried to embrace her.

"In first place, we have Mariette Croisseux of Beauxbatons!" announced Kingsley- quite, thought Rose, unnecessarily. "As soon as she is cleared by our team of Healers, she will come up to the judges and sit with Madame Maxime."

The crowd remained tense as everyone waited for the other two champions to appear. It couldn't be too long now. But the minutes drew on- Mariette finished speaking to the judges and climbed the narrow steps to the platform, but still the boys had not returned.

Thirty, forty minutes passed, and Kingsley was finally visibly restless. He consulted frequently with the witches behind the judges, who just shook their heads in befuddlement.

Finally, a sound, quite unlike the grating noise that had accompanied Marriette. The crowd drew in a collective breath as both remaining boxes began to open. Rafael emerged first, a long slash down his cheek, another across his chest. Alistair stumbled out, clutching his right arm, which was bloody. Both wizards looked like the walking dead.

The Healers split in half and swarmed the champions. Alistair let them pull him towards the sideline, but Rafael backed away from the Healers and would not let them touch him.

Rose only realized what Dmitri was doing when they were both halfway down the stairs, connected by the reassuring grip she had kept on his hand. She tried to break free, but the connection was steely.

Rafael was still backing away from the Healers when they reached him. "Dmitri," he said as his younger brother finally released Rose's hand to hug him tightly. "Not now," he grunted. "Valk. Come, you, now."

Not quite thinking about what she was doing, Rose fell in with the brothers as they began walking away from the Healers. Rafael was speaking in rapid Russian to his brother, who asked an occasional tentative question and received a curt response. Rose only spoke when they reached the castle and stopped.

"Rafael, you're bleeding," she said softly. Rafael grunted, not looking at her. Sighing, Rose turned to Dmitri. "There's a Healer who stayed at the castle. Will he see her?"

"I vill," replied Rafael curtly before Dmitri could speak. Rose led the pair in silence, letting their foreign words wash over her. It now sounded like Dmitri was starting to panic and Rafael was calming him. Every now and again there would be a familiar word, but by the time her brain caught it, it was gone.

They reached the Hospital Wing without seeing anyone- even the ghosts had gone to the field to see the first task. But there was one person that Rose knew would not be there.

Madame Chang took one look at Rafael and gasped. "What have they done to you down there?" she asked, worry creasing her face. "Come, we'll get you sorted out."

Rose pretended to not see the framed picture and tear-stained handkerchief lying where Madame Chang had been sitting. Instead she sat on the cot next to where Rafael was being worked on.

"This will sting," warned Madame Chang before slathering a thick layer of lilac gel over the cut on Rafael's cheek. The Durmstrang boy winced but said nothing.

The best part about Madame Chang was that she asked no questions. She hissed sympathetically upon seeing the gash across Rafael's chest, but did not ask what had happened. Rose, however, did not share the Healer's unquestioning attitude.

"What happened to him?" she asked Dmitri quietly as he came to sit by her. "Why did he leave? The judges-"

"Hell on the judges," said Rafael bitterly, having obviously heard her. "Hell on the Tournament. I vill compete no more in it."

"But it's a binding magical contract," blurted Rose. "You can't-"

"I can. I vill."

The doors to the Hospital Wing burst open, and a swarm of people entered. Kingsley matched pace with Ivanoff, who was already spewing Russian at his champion, who remained calm under the furious gaze of his headmaster. The other heads and judges brought up the rear, with the two witches who had created the Boxes trailing behind uncertainly.

Kingsley waited for a pause in the conversation between Ivanoff and his student to say, "Gentlemen, if you please."

"If I please nothing!" cried Ivanoff furiously, but now his anger was directed towards the room at whole. "An attempt has been made on my champion's life!"

Madame Maxime looked around, as if expecting to find an assassin lurking under one of the cots. "What does ze boy mean?" she asked.

Rose moved out of the way as Ivanoff said, "Rafael, if you could recount what you just told me?"

There was room for her a few cots away, where the Boxes' inventors had perched themselves. Rose saw now that they were identical twins- her stomach sunk in realization.

"Where are the real inventors?" she murmured under her breath.

The Gemini looked at her,apparently amused, and she blushed as she realised they had somehow heard every word. "Away," one said, "but don't worry. We know everything they do about the Boxes." She tapped her head while the other began to take notes.

"I vas in the box," began Rafael. "I see scroll, like ve vere told to get. I get it and vant to leave, but it is not ending. It changes. I see-"

The window above Rafael's cot shattered with a noise akin to an explosion. Everyone covered their heads, and there were yells and shouts as shards of glass rained down on their exposed arms and hands. On the foot of Rafael's bed lay the source of the broken window.

Madame Chang shrieked. Tied to a rock was a black raven with iridescent feathers that glinted threatening in the innocuous sunlight. It's neck wasclearly broken.

No one moved for a long moment. Finally, with a jerky motion, Kingsley repaired the shattered window and McGonagall levitated the rock and bird off the bed to a nearby table.

But out of everyone, Rafael looked the most disturbed. He stared at the bird, wide-eyed for a few moments, then leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes.

"I am sorry," he said stiffly. "I feel not vell. The Granian kick my head when I take scroll."

"He really should be taken care of," said Madame Chang, her eyes still on the bird. Professor McGonagall quickly covered it with a handkerchief, then shuddered and looked away. "I took care of those nasty cuts, but I haven't had a chance to do a thorough examination."

Kingsley looked to Ivanoff, who nodded. "If the Healers could come to the ship, that would be best," the Durmstrang head said stiffly. "I will take him there myself."

Dmitri followed Rafael and Ivanoff, eyes trained on the floor. Madame Maxime swept out of the room, undoubtedly in search of her champion. The others slipped out- Teddy had exited before the broken window, probably in search of Victoire- until only Rose, Madame Chang, and the Gemini remained.

"Well, that was a shocking turn of events," remarked one twin as Madame Chang scooped up the handkerchief and whisked it away into her office.

"What do you think he was going to say?"

"Why he stopped is more important, I think."

"I reckon it had to do with the bird."

"Well I reckon we're missing something."

Rose looked at the two with interest. "Are you actually going to write about this?" she asked.

The Gemini looked at each other, then both said, "No."

"It would be an exclusive piece-"

"-but also an inconclusive piece-"

"-and that doesn't make for much of a story."

"No, not at all."

A weary Rose quickly said goodbye and left the Hospital Wing, too tired to ponder further on the mysterious twins. She needed to talk to Albus, and she knew that if his father was still on the grounds, there was only one place he would be.

"It's me," she called, pounding on Hagrid's front door. The door immediately swung open to reveal the most people that Rose had ever seen in Hagrid's hut at once. Harry, now in his proper form, sat at the table with his sons. Hagrid, who had opened the door, pulled a chair out for Rose to join them.

"Where were you?" asked Albus as Rose sat. "You just disappeared with Dmitri, then Rafael is gone and the judges are announcing that they have to hold out on giving the scores, and then they're gone-"

Rose hurriedly recounted what had occurred in the Hospital Wing, leaving out the presence of the Gemini. "So Rafael should be back at the Durmstrang ship at this point," she concluded, taking the mug that Hagrid offered her. She sniffed it when he wasn't looking; it seemed to be plain tea, safe enough compared to some of the brews she had been subject to.

"What's he playing at, saying someone tried to kill him?" said James indignantly. "It was a challenge."

"I don't think that's what he meant," said Rose.

Looking thoughtful, Harry set his mug of tea down. "It's definitely something to watch for," he mused. "Al told me that you had been aware of a previous situation with Alistair?"

"They've exchanged words," summarised Rose, not wanting to get into the details of the incidents when there were more pressing matters at hand.

After a long moment, Harry sighed. "I'm afraid this Tournament brings out the worst in people," he said. "That was my main objection to bringing it back." He glanced out Hagrid's open window to the darkening sky. "We should be getting back to the castle. You all need to eat, and I'm supposed to sit with Neville at the feast."

Rose wanted to object, to say that the current situation was about more than just the Tournament, but Harry seemed preoccupied with other matters. She kept her feelings to herself.

On the walk back, Harry reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a letter. "I almost forgot," he said. "Rose, this is for you. Hermione asked me to deliver it. Ron sends his love, and Hugo is angry you're not coming back for Christmas."

Part of the Triwizard Tournament was the Yule Ball, which took place on Christmas Eve. As a first year, Rose would not be attending unless asked by an older student, which she wasn't expecting to be. However, she had decided to remain at the castle over break anyway, seeing how exciting things would undoubtedly be occurring. She had finally made it to Hogwarts, and she was in no hurry to get away.

The feast had not yet begun, but most of the students were at their tables. Rose was relieved to see Dmitri wave to them from among the Gryffindors, though Rafael was nowhere to be found.

"I vas thinking you vere all gone," said Dmitri with relief as Rose, Albus, and James sat down. "Vhere you all go?"

"Down to Hagrid's for a bit," replied Rose. "How is your brother?"

Dmitri's expression sank. "He is fine. Healers tell him to rest. He rests."

Though Rose was desperately curious about what the scrolls said, she knew it was not the right time to ask. Instead, she looked down the table to where Victoire sat. She was talking to her friends and holding the hand of a boy in Gryffindor robes that Rose did not recognize. It could only be Teddy.

She kept an eye out for him that night in the common room, but when Victoire finally appeared, she was alone. Speaking to no one, she ascended the stairs to her room.

In a quiet corner of the room, Rose and Albus began working on a Transfiguration assignment. They had to list the color changes an object would undergo while shifting from orange to violet.

"If it hits red, you've gone too far," corrected Rose absently, reading Albus' scroll upside-down, "and I think Professor Randor said to list them vertically." The Transfiguration master was a stickler for order and precision.

"Who d'you reckon threw the rock through the window?" asked Albus, siphoning some dried ink off his parchment in order to fix his mistakes. "And don't just jump to say it was Alistair, because he was still on the field when I left for Hagrid's."

"I don' know," admitted Rose, "but I know it scared Rafael, and badly. I've never seen him frightened before, not once. But then...you should have seen his face."

They had been working in silence for a few minutes when Albus asked, "Do you think it has anything to do with Dmitri?"

Rose considered this. Dmitri was the one thing- person or possession- she knew Rafael was protective of. And hadn't he mentioned Dmitri to Alistair on the sixth floor that day?

"I think it might," she said, reminding Albus of what she had overheard. "It's clear that the brothers are close. Do you think Alistair would use that against him?"

Albus sighed. "I know you're not fond of him, Rose, but I don't see how one bloke could be in two places at once. I saw him on the field."

"And I saw the dead bird tied to a stone," said Rose stubbornly. "I'm not saying he's doing this alone. What about those creeps he's always with?"

Albus listed them for her. "Delbert and Faustino Payne aren't smart enough to do anything but grunt. James says that Baena is smart, but that doesn't mean-"

"None of it means anything," sighed Rose. "Never mind, I'm not awake enough to think this over." She quickly reviewed her Transfiguration work before shutting A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration and heading upstairs.

But once she was in bed, all she could think about was the Tournament. When Alistair had emerged from his box, his eyes had met Rafael's for a brief moment before the connection shattered. But both champions had emerged in the same instant, the same bubble of time. Surely she had not been the only one to notice.

That night, her dreams found her locked in a dark, airless box that slowly constricted around her, squeezing the last bits of air from her lungs. Bright, colorful flashes of light illuminated images; steel feathers- sharp fangs- red eyes- the glowing tip of a wand.

The wand was connected to an arm. Rose saw Alistair Trimble amble forward, wand arm completely extended, an eerily smooth expression on his face.

"Come on, now," he said as he sauntered forth. "Can't we all just be friends?"

A flash of brilliant, colorless light, and Rose was staring at the hangings that dripped maroon around her bed. Once more, she was alone.