The Next Generation - Harry Potter

The Four Schools

Hugo

The new students had sat around the house tables and the Ilvermorny students took to the Gryffindor table. I realised I was slightly staring at the dark-haired boy so instead turned my attention to the spitting goblet. The guests threw in their entries and sat back down. The Ilvermorny boy must have already entered his name. The liquid inside the goblet bubbled angrily and eventually released a single scrap of parchment, which the headmistress caught. She read, "The Durmstrang champion is: Klas Norling." An older boy wearing blood-red robes stumbled forwards and into the room behind the teacher's table. He had a very defined face with a strong jawline and unfriendly eyes.  The Slytherins and Durmstrangs, who were sharing a table, cheered immensely. A few Durmstrangs looked disappointed. The liquid in the goblet now had a bluish tinge. It released a second entry. "The Beauxbatons champion is: Heloise Blanc." An unnaturally pretty girl stepped forth, she was pale-skinned and had very long blonde hair that fell to her waist. The Beauxbatons girls and boys looked sulky and a few girls were actually crying. For the third time, Professor Mcgonagall read, "The Ilvermorny champion is: Evan Hayes." It was the freckled boy on our table. I clapped along with everyone else and the American Ilvermorny students cheered louder than any other school when their champion had been chosen. Finally, the Hogwarts champion was announced, "Amelia Wood" and the feast started whilst the champions conversed in the empty classroom
•••
At breakfast the next day,  Evan sat next to me and asked if I could help him around the school since he didn't know his way around. I introduced myself and we talked about the tournament until breakfast appeared. There was much more food than usual and it all looked more impressive. I had to laugh at Evan's face when he tried the full English breakfast: "It's way better than American breakfast!" Our first lesson that day was potions and we were working together. Our cauldron's potion was definitely not the desirable lavender colour and was a thick puce. "So we're both terrible at potions," he concluded, grinning. His eyes were the greeny-blue of the ocean on a summer's day. The type that you could get lost in forever without realising you were ever gone.