The North American bros and the Goblet of Fire

What Does the Future Hold? Apparently, Ferrets.

Matthew was happy to see that the storm from the previous evening had blown itself out. Sadly, the weather was still a dreary gray, and this was reflected in the ceiling of the great hall. Not that Matthew cared much. He was fairly happy as he examined his courses with his new friends. 
"I've got a pretty good day today," said Hannah, "Herbology with Gryffindor and then Arithmancy and Muggle studies for the start of the day, at least."
Matthew glanced at his schedule. 
"Herbology then, eh? I guess we'll be seeing more of our Head of House. Hmm, I've got Divination*. Oh, and I've got Muggle Studies too."
Hannah smiled. Matthew, however, had stopped paying attention. There was an odd rustling noise coming from above. Matthew looked up and saw, for the first time, the owl deliveries. He really had to try to look like he'd seen it all a hundred times before. After all, Ilvermorny probably used owls as well, and if he acted too surprised, it'd seem suspicious. But then, Matthew noticed something, or rather, a lack of something. White. He knew that Harry's owl was white, and through information given to him from England, that Harry had recently sent a letter to his fugitive (it was a misunderstanding, he had been told) godfather. Harry would be expecting mail. Matthew grew uneasy. He felt that his job was about to start soon.

Herbology was rather uninteresting, despite being about absolutely disgusting plants that nearly no one could find boring. However, Matthew had seen it all before. Despite Hannah trying to make conversation (Something about cursing off a nose?), Matthew spaced out and didn't hear much of it. He could just ask England later, anyway. Divination was far more interesting. Since it was with Gryffindor, Matthew could keep an eye on Harry. The divination room was...interesting. It reeked of perfume and was rather cluttered. The windows were covered with rather dramatic curtains that made the room incredibly stuffy. The light was rather reddish and ominous. Matthew was at once uncomfortable. But despite the clutter, he, Justin Finch-Fletchly, and a girl named Susan Bones (Matthew vaguely remembered being introduced to her the night before, but they hadn't talked much) found a spot, luckily quite close to Harry and his friends. Matthew was surprised to see a thin woman with glasses (presumably Professor Trelawney; he vaguely remembered seeing her the previous evening) approach Harry. 
"Good day," she said, "you are preoccupied my dear..." She said more than that, but the nation didn't pay much attention. A bunch of Mumbai- jumbo about Harry dying soon. Wait. Back up. *insert sound of record scratching*. Harry dying? Canada immediately refocused, but by this time, the professor's voice was inaudible to anyone further than 12 centimeters from her. 
"Don't mind her," said Susan, "she predicts Harry's death daily. She's been doing it for a year now, and nothing's ever happened."
"Not yet," said Justin, "but he's sure got a knack for finding trouble. Remember the basilisk?"
Hannah nodded solemnly. Matthew decided it was best not to ask what was going on. 
Matthew watched Harry, who had clearly dozed off, as Trelawney rambled on. He had finished his own planet chart a while ago. Suddenly, Harry sat up. Canada started to listen to what the professor was saying at this point.

"I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn," she said, still speaking to Harry (goodness, wasn't she ever going to talk to anyone else? Or, you know, actually teach?). 
Harry just sort of looked at her. Matthew couldn't hear way he said, but he was clearly inquiring about what the professor had just said, because she replied by stating that by this, she thought he was born in "midwinter." At this, half the class stufled a laugh, for nearly everyone, Hufflepuffs included, knew that Harry had been born in July.

"Isn't she absurd," asked Susan.

"I'm only here because it's easy. Predict misery and you've got an easy A," said Justin. 
Canada still wasn't convinced. Sure, old Sybil was something of a character, but she had Oracle blood in her, and had had some correct predictions. What if her concerns for Harry weren't as absurd as everyone thought?  Matthew walked out of class still pondering. 
However, he was rudely snapped out of his thoughts when he heard shouts. 
"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter," said one. Canada figured its owner was a Slytherin. 
"Keep your big fat mouth shut, then." That was Harry. Not that Matthew figured the kid was much of a threat. He walked on. But suddenly , out of the corner of his eye, the nation saw a white bolt fly through the air, and heard several screams. Turning suddenly, another voice joined the mix. 
"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" 
Turning again, Matthew saw the figure that had been introduced as Mad-Eye Moody limping down the stairs. His wand was out, and he was pointing it at a white ferret that was exactly where the Slytherin kid had been. 
"Draco Malfoy," whispered Susan, "the school bully. There's always one." 
Malfoy, as his name was, was shivering. Probably nerves. 
"Did he get you," Moody spoke in a low growl. 
"No," said Harry, "missed." 
At this time, one of Malfoy's thugs tried to pick up the ferret, but to no avail. 
"LEAVE IT," shouted Moody. Harry did not seem to understand that Moody was no longer talking to him. 
He asked "leave what?" 
"Not you, him," said Moody, pointing out the goon. It seemed to Matthew that perhaps Moody's blue eye was magical and could see through objects, including the back of its owner's head. As the professor began to lump towards the ferret, it squeaked and streaked for the dungeons. 
"I don't think so," roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret once more. At this time it began to bounce. Moody began growling a lecture as the little creature cried out in pain. Matthew could only watch, horrified. He knew that this Malfoy kid was a jerk, and had probably provoked Harry or Ron, but seeing him in such a helpless state, squeaking in pain, was still hard for the kind nation to pass off. And yet, it was like a car crash- you wanted to stop looking, but you couldn't. Finally, to his relief (although he'd never admit it), Professor McGonagall walked in. She began to explain to Moody the correct ways of discipline at Hogwarts (transfiguration was not acceptable). The ferret turned into a blond kid, who was muttering something under his breath. Canada couldn't hear too much of it, but he caught the words "my father". The Malfoy family was probably rich, then. Great. Mathew hoped he wouldn't have any run-ins with this guy later. 
Finally, as Matthew and his friends (could he call them that yet?) sat down at the Hufflepuff table, discussion erupted. Not just about Malfoy, but also Professor Moody. Apparently, he had once been an auror (basically a wizard soldier, as Mathhew learned) and actually knew his stuff. He knew what it was like to be out there, fighting the dark arts. Ernie MacMillian sighed. 
"We haven't got him until Friday."