Clover Hawkings and the Triwizard Tournament

0. Prologue

Disclaimer: I am not the owner (sadly) of the Wizarding World, full credit to JK Rowling for the world and for any of her characters I use. 

The sky was dark, pitch-black save the wisps of clouds, only visible by the reflective light of the moon. The forest was dark and quiet, and the neighborhood by said forest was, if anything, even darker and quieter. This may have been because most of the inhabitants were alive when Rome fell, or maybe because no sane human being would be up at this ungodly hour. 

Which leads us to me, an insanely, ungodly girl. 

In a house at the very end of the cul-de-sac, a light was on in an upstairs room. A shadow was flickering over the warm glow of the light, pacing back and forth.

"Frick," it muttered. "spell books, cauldron, wand...oh, I know I'm forgetting something!" (I'm always forgetting something)

As you could infer by the previous statement, that anxious, pacing shadow was me. To be fair, I am often an anxious, pacing shadow, but tonight I was particularly anxious and therefore breaking pacing records.

The Hogwarts Express would leave tomorrow at eleven am, and I wasn't even close to ready. August the 31 had always been a stressful night, but after my aunt dragged me to see the Werewolf Museum, insisting that symptoms, history of the Wolfsbane Potion, and famous werewolves would be good for my education, I barely had time to pack. Scratch that and let it die in a hole, I had no time to pack.

"Ah!" I cried. "Dress robes!" For some reason, Hogwarts had demanded dress robes on the packing list of my fifth year- little did I know the reason would both scare me to death and set me free. Most good things come like that. I crammed my hunter green dress robes into my trunk, attempting to rearrange my spell books to fit around the velvety cloth.

"No, that wouldn't fit"- I balanced some books precariously on the edge of the bed. "We'll put that there, yes that'll work"- the next thing that came out of my mouth was a shriek and a few choice words that my aunt certainly wouldn't approve of as the books dropped onto my toe.

"Clover!" said aunt managed to appear in the doorway just as I thought that, as parent figures have a knack for doing. "Such language is unacceptable!" My aunt Cass looked so much not like me that it was a wonder that we were related- she was short, plump, with short red hair and I was tall, lanky, with long blonde hair that never got untangled. But we were- she had raised me since- well, forever, basically. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah- hold this, won't you?" I said, thrusting A History of Magic and Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five into her hands.

"Are you packed?" she asked.

I threw her a dirty look. "Are you kidding! No way, after someone decided to waste the last week in Northern Britain!"

She sighed and looked slightly hurt. "I'm sure they'll come up in your O.W.L.s, it's a very important but tragic part of Wizarding History"-

"O.W.L.s aren't 'til the end of this year!"

"As a Ravenclaw, surely you would like to study ahead!" my aunt protests, brushing that flaming red hair (that I certainly did not get) out of her face. She then launches into a speech about how studying is an important aspect of life, and the more OWLs you get, the more you'll exceed, and how you can do anything if you set your mind to it- yada yada yada. I've heard this a million times. Rolling annoyingly hazel eyes ( for it seemed they could never make up their mind if they were green or brown) I stuffed socks into my already overflowing trunk.

"Yeah, I'm a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin. My goal is to pass this year!"

"You'll thank me later."

"We could have just gone to the World Cup," I muttered grumpily, plopping down on my bed. The Quidditch World Cup had been hosted in Britain this year for the first time in hundred, and nearly everyone at Hogwarts went but me. Naturally. I mean, it would have been horrible anyways, seeing my non-existent friends there, and I don't like crowds...or people in general, for that matter. It would have been loud and annoying at absolutely wonderful.

"Too much rush, too much money..." Cass said dismissively, picking up some of the fallen books.

'You just hate Quidditch!" I fired back. There had been an accident when she was younger, involving my mother, my aunt, an apple tree and some broomsticks. It had been quite a popular bedtime story.

"I do not," Cass lies cheerfully, waving her wand at my socks.

"You've called it a sport for numbskulled jocks who smell like sweat and grease."

"All my love is lost in translation, dear. Besides, security this year was...lacking."

My something's-up radar is beeping. I narrow my eyes, this should be easy. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"What happened?"

"Nothing." less sure this time.

"What happened? You know I'll keep asking until you tell me."

Hesitation, then- "You-know-who's mark was cast up."

"What?!" I yelped, sitting up so fast that I knocked my trunk over, flooding the floor with my stuff. "Oh, CRAP, not that stupid trunk again!"

"Here," my aunt said consolingly. "Let me do it." She flicked her wand and instantly the clothes flew over and folded themselves, the socks tucked into the empty spaces, my spell books and cauldron, which had tumbled out, once again sat neatly. She twitched her wand again and it rose back over the bed, landing with a soft thump.

"Anyway," I said quickly, "You-Know-Who?"

"Yes," my aunt said, shuddering again. "Apparently there were Death Eaters at the Cup- went after the Muggles, they did. One cast the Dark Mark into the sky, and they all fled before the Ministry took action....Rita Skeeter, curse that cow, did an article on it..I'll just have to pray there weren't any dead bodies...giving the whole Ministry a nightmare, why, just the other day Shackbolt said.." this is normally the part where I tune out, but Cass just shakes her head and lets the words trail into silence.

"Anyway. Goodnight, pumpkin. Sleep well- you have a big day tomorrow." Like I don't know that.

She turns the light off with a flick of her wand- a waste of magic, in my option, we have perfectly good lightswitches- and floats the trunk down to the floor.

I roll over onto my side. I feel nervous about tomorrow, the first day of the fifth year, but truth be told I feel much more nervous about the Death Eaters at the World Cup- although one never knows what a new day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will bring...