Obsidian (Harry Potter Fan Fiction, Sequel to the Lazuli Trilogy)

Ten - Tobias

I waited until I knew that my father was in a meeting with the Minister of Magic and the other headteachers before I went to the Goblet of Fire.

Dad had been known to loiter around by the cup, nodding approvingly as students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons stepped forward to throw their names into the flames, and breaking out smiles and pats on the back as those students who were over 17 and came from Hogwarts entered themselves into the running. I accompanied several of my friends when they entered their names, watched as Dad grinned at them and wished them luck, and tried not to appear jealous at all. How could my father be so proud of other people, and yet so unwilling to let me have a taste of that same glory?

I had written my name neatly on a scrap of paper and waited for two days for the opportunity to arise in which I could enter without any hindrance. Finally, on the morning of the third day, I heard the news of my father's meeting, and I knew that my mother was teaching a class of second years, and so my time had come. I waited until the rest of the school had gone to their first lesson - where I conveniently had a free period - before I headed alone down to the Great Hall, sneaking in quietly and shutting the door behind me.

It was peculiar to be in the vast room when it was empty, and yet the quiet was strangely soothing. The tables had been pushed aside and stacked up against the walls, the benches piled up in front of them. Nobody was in the Great Hall, and yet I still felt a tingling feeling at the back of my neck, as if I was being watched.

Slowly, I approached the Goblet, which sat in the centre of the room, its blue flames flickering entrancingly. Around it, my father had drawn an age line, in order to stop any younger students contemplating entering the tournament. However, many of the younger students had heard about how my Uncle Harry had been merely 14 when his name had been drawn from the Goblet of Fire, and a few of them had even tried their luck in the way that my Uncle's Fred and George had - the infirmary was currently full of third, fourth and fifth year boys who had taken potions which aged them 70 years. 

My feet tapped softly on the floor as I approached the age line, and I stopped for a moment to stare at the faint golden line of floating magic, which seemed to ripple and dance slightly on its own accord. My 17th birthday had passed - I no longer bore the Trace, and I was old enough to participate in the tournament. And yet, I still felt a feeling of unease; what if something went wrong, and the age line threw me back? What if my dad had enchanted it to throw me back in case I tried to enter? Did he really not trust me that much?

You told him you wouldn't enter, a voice niggled in the back of my head, clearly he has cause not to trust you.

I took a deep breath and shook my head. I couldn't do it, I couldn't betray my father like that.

"My my, vhat deliberation!" a voice suddenly snarled. I jumped backwards, my head snapping up and in the direction of the voice. My wand was drawn instantly and raised defensively, searching for whoever had been watching me.

"Who are you?" I called out, trying to make my voice sound a little more steady.

A figure moved in the shadows, and I watched as the shape of Kratzovic, the Durmstrang headmaster, moved out into the eerie blue light that the Goblet cast out. Suddenly the Goblet's fire didn't seem so friendly any more, and the empty room didn't feel peaceful; now, I merely felt threatened.

"I know you," Kratzovic stated, and I instantly got the impression that he wasn't expecting me to reply, merely listen. "You are Malfoy's second son, the Ravenclaw. Tobias is your name..."

I nodded stiffly, frowning at him and still keeping my wand raised. "I didn't realise that anybody was in here," I started to defend myself, "aren't you supposed to be at a meeting with my father?"