Aila Prewett is the only daughter of Fabian Prewett, born to him by the Veela during the First Wizarding War. Both her parents were killed by Voldemort, leaving her in the care of the Weasleys.
As the Triwizard Tournament is held once again, Aila's...
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There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air when Aila awoke the next morning. Heavy rain was still splattering against the window as she got dressed in a black shirt and jeans. She would change into their school robes on the Hogwarts Express.
She was making her way downstairs with Harry, Ron, and the twins when Molly appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking harassed.
“Arthur!” she called up the staircase. “Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!”
The four of them flattened themselves against the wall as Arthur came clattering past with his robes on back-to-front and hurtled out of sight. When they entered the kitchen, they saw Molly rummaging anxiously in the drawers. “I’ve got a quill here somewhere!” she muttered as Arthur sat, bent over the fire, talking to Amos Diggory’s head that was sitting in the middle of the flames like a large, bearded egg. It was talking very fast, completely unperturbed by the sparks flying around it and the flames licking its ears.
“…Muggle neighbours heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d’you-call-’ems–please-men. Arthur, you’ve got to get over there–”
“Here!” Molly said breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Arthur’s hands.
“He looks weird,” Fred said, nudging Aila’s shoulder as they stacked some toast on their plates.
“Shut up,” she hissed. “I want to listen.”
“–it’s a real stroke of luck I heard about it,” said Amos’ head. “I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off–if Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur–”
“What does Mad-Eye say happened?” Arthur asked, unscrewing the ink bottle, loading up his quill, and preparing to take notes.
Amos’ head rolled its eyes. “Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house but was ambushed by his dustbins.”
“What did the dustbins do?”
“Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell,” said Amos. “Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the please-men turned up–”
Arthur stopped writing and groaned. “And what about the intruder?”
“Arthur, you know Mad-Eye,” said Amos’ head, rolling its eyes again. “Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely there’s a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on MadEye, he’s had it. Think of his record! We’ve got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department. What are exploding dustbins worth?”
“Might be a caution,” Arthur said, still writing very fast, his brow furrowed. “Mad-Eye didn’t use his wand? He didn’t actually attack anyone?”
