PotterInk RV: 2

Round 4: Entries

Ophelia 'Lia' Statton

**Some language present**  

Top tip about the Scottish weather: it's hardly ever the kind that makes people say, "Let's go on holiday there, Mum!"

Tonight's the perfect setting for a horror movie: howling gales, raging thunder, and even a bit of lightning for dramatic effect. Despite the shelter of Hogwarts Castle, I can see how awful the storm is by glancing at the magical ceiling. It makes me feel really sorry for poor Hagrid and his tiny hut outside.

The weather might be awful, but it doesn't change the fact that everyone is practically buzzing with excitement. Even the staff are talking earnestly amongst themselves, heads bent close together and whispering though nobody could possibly hear them through all the noise. The last five minutes have just been a complete hubbub of random yelling and shouts of "I'm entering! I'm gonna enter you! It's gonna be fun, come on!" and blah blah blah.

"Can you believe it?" my best friend, Katherine Drewett, yells even though I'm sitting next to her, but it doesn't matter because everybody else is shouting anyway. "It's gonna be so much fun!"

"The last time the Triwizard Tournament happened, someone died," I say, because I'm just optimistic like that. Kaz shrugs casually, as if death is something she experiences on a regular basis. "Harry Potter was in it, and it turned out to be a trick set up by Voldemort."

"Yeah, but Voldy's dead and mouldy now. It's gonna be safe and so, so, so fun! I am so entering! So should you, Lia!"

Kaz must be really hyped about this--she's never said so five times in a sentence before. I only shake my head in response; I must the only person in the room who doesn't particularly care about the tournament. It's basically synonymous with Death Match in my mind.

"I'm not entering," I say, picking at my stew and looking the epitome of bored. "I'm not really feeling it. Like, stealing a dragon's egg and wiping out in front of the whole freaking school--scratch that, three freaking schools? No thanks."

"But it doesn't matter! Do it for the experience! At least enter--there's a chance that it won't be you, judging by how many people want to put their names in."

"I don't turn sixteen til' next month," I say smugly, hitting on a point she can't bend. "That's the age limit, and I can't breach it."

"Oh, cuz it's not like you're in Ravenclaw or anything," a new voice pipes up. Rachel Johnson leans over on her chair from the Gryffindor table, grinning. Her long brown hair is done in a French braid today, matching my never changing style. She's decorated in Band-Aids from the incident last week, though otherwise she looks fine. Just like everybody else, her eyes are practically glowing with excitement.

"Why do you mean?" Kaz asks her.

"Lia could do some fancy charm work, figure out how to break the Age Restriction Spell. You're one of the best witches in the year, Ophelia Statton. I heard Flitwick say so--he might bump you right up to NEWT level while the rest of us are slogging with OWLs."

I let myself feel a bit flattered, before pulling myself together. "Nope. Even if I could, I wouldn't. Besides, I've got in enough trouble already. That thing about Fred and Robbie--"

"Doesn't matter," Rachel says impatiently, literally waving the matter off. "In the past, let it go. Besides, your butt doesn't hurt anymore, does it?"

"Uh...no," I mutter, glaring at Kaz as she begins to snicker.

Part of the reason why I don't want to enter the Tournament is because I've been involved in way too much drama already. First of all, the freak troll attack that almost got Alice killed; then, the series of court cases that happened one after the other, like some Sherlock Holmes serial. I managed to get myself mixed up in three of them: one where I was defendant, and two where I was a witness in favour of the defendant (Rachel was involved in one of them). In the process, I got myself in an illegal duel, suffered a broken butt, and managed to get a Dementor stuck to my face.