HP: A Magical Journey

Chapter 135 - Arrival, Fake-Eye, Triwizard

If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @

[ https://www.patreón.com/fictiononlyreader ]??

The link is also in the synopsis.

.

[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Like a twisted hose spewing out its first spurt of liquid, a multi-colored shapeless mass seemed to appear in the air. The twisted mass divided itself into two parts within a split second, before two figures stood on a tiled floor.

"How was it?" asked the taller of the two. A smile graced the boy's mouth as his eyes flashed, wanting praise.

The shorter yet older of the two first brushed her clothes smooth before replying to his question, "I have certainly been part of worse side-apparitions."

The not-so-obvious praise widened the smile on the boy's face. He knew that this was her way of saying he had done well.

"Are you sure this was fine?" asked the strict Ms. Rosey as she looked around the King's Cross Station's apparition point. "Risking being the one to apparate us here... you aren't supposed to know apparition yet."

"It's okay. People aren't that attentive. Besides, the delay between the one who apparates and its passenger is almost null. My apparition pop has become quieter and doesn't attract that much attention," said Quinn, not worried about the situation.

"If you say so."

The two walked forward towards the platform 9?. The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, was already there, clouds of steam billowing from it. Many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared as if they were dark ghosts. Quinn moved his eyes through the hustle and bustle, looking at the new and familiar faces, trying to spot a friend. Ms. Rosey, being a poster lady of manners, was properly walking alongside Quinn, but on the inside she was delighted that Quinn had asked her to see him off this year.

"Are you sure you don't want to reserve a compartment?" she asked. "You can come back out after making sure you have a seat reserved." Ms. Rosey hadn't seen the Hogwarts Express since her own Hogwarts days, as, after getting her job, she hadn't had the need to accompany someone to the Express (Neither Adam nor Lia had gone to Hogwarts). Her eyes were stuck to the bright red train, remembering her youth.

Quinn shook his head and took out a blue-and-bronze badge. "I'm a Prefect. There is a compartment reserved for us in the front of the train, so even if I don't find a compartment, I will have a seat for the journey… Of course, you already know that."

Ms. Rosey nodded with a small smile. During her time, she had been a Prefect for the Hufflepuff house in her fifth and sixth year and Head Girl in her seventh. She knew the privileges that the school provided to Prefects and the Head pair.

"Your grandfather, Elliot, me, and now you. Everyone in the family has been a Prefect now," spoke Ms. Rosey. "Even Lia and your father held important positions in Beauxbatons."

Quinn already knew that because he had seen George, Elliot, and Ms. Rosey's files in the Room of Rewards that held the black binders and the entrance to the Sin vault. While he hadn't been there since his second year, Quinn, while searching for clues, had taken a detour to glance at his family's files and all of them had splendid marks and recommendations.

"Being the owner of the A.I.D. is better than being a Prefect," said Quinn, turning the shiny badge to the other side so that it could reflect light. "However, I guess it comes with its own advantages. I don't have curfew restrictions anymore; I can roam around all night if I want."

While Quinn didn't like the house point system, he appreciated the Prefect and Head Boy/Girl system because it rewarded selected students with power and perks in return for the added responsibility. The students who got the student authority positions were the favorites of teachers, and Quinn was all for it. He liked this system because the student who would get the position would necessarily have a good rapport with the teacher, and that was a valuable skill known as networking. One could be excellent at their craft, but if they didn't have the communication skills, that technical skill would only get them so far.

He didn't think that the Prefect and Head Boy/Girl positions were worthless. Sure, later in their lives, these positions might not matter, but students weren't thinking ten or twenty years in the future. They lived in the present and wanted to be rewarded immediately; authority positions were perfect for that.

"Yes, you can, but please make sure to get enough sleep," said the ever-worrying Ms. Rosey.

"I love sleeping, Ms. Rosey," smiled Quinn. "Except when I'm doing magic, it's the best part of the day."

Ms. Rosey studied Quinn for a moment before bringing up the main thing George had asked her to say to Quinn. "Young master... the tournament... Please don't try to compete in it. None of us want you competing in something that was banned for a reason."

"The tournament is only for those of age, Ms. Rosey. I'm not of age," said Quinn, although that information had been known in the West manor for a while.

"... We know that, but we also know that nothing is sure with you. Lia was considering not letting you go to school this year because she thought you would figure out a way to bypass whatever measures they put in place."

"I'm not going to participate in the tournament... Eternal glory and a thousand galleons. That's what the Tri-Wizard tournament promises." Quinn put a palm on his chest. "But I'm a West; eternal glory is my birthright. As for the thousand galleons. I earn more than that every day in royalties. There is no need for me to join the tournament… although… fighting a dragon might be fun."

"-That. That's what we are afraid of," she sighed. "We worry that you will try to join the tournament so that you can fight a dragon. Please don't do that."

Quinn chuckled, and internally he thought, 'Well, I guess I don't have to fight a dragon... I have a Kraken sparring partner if I ever feel the need...'

"I promise, Ms. Rosey... I won't participate in the tournament. It wouldn't be fair for the others otherwise," smirked Quinn. "Anyway, as I said, I have no desire to join the tournament as a participant; it's not worth it."

"Promise me that you won't try to see how the Goblet of Fire works." The caretaker who had been looking over Quinn for a decade sharply demanded.

"Er... Ahem... I mean, sure, I won't. I won't go anywhere near the chalice."

"You aren't doing a good job in persuading me, young master.," sighed Ms. Rosey. She gave the slightly flustered Quinn a pointed look. "Anyway, I will repeat this for my own sake. Do not go anywhere near the Goblet of Fire. It's a dangerous magical artifact, and we don't want you taking any chances."

"... I understand," he nodded.

Ms. Rosey looked around the platform and saw the crowd getting larger. "It's time. You should board the train." She placed a hand on Quinn's shoulder and gave him one good final look. "Remember to take care of yourself, write to us regularly and tell us whenever you have any problems."

"I will," he said. Then, he hugged Ms. Rosey and boarded the train with his suitcase.

...

The corridor of the Hogwarts Express was populated with Hogwarts students. Some looked for space to sit while others were catching up with their friends after the long break. Everyone was in haste to get settled before the train took off. In short, there was plenty of activity inside the train; even inside the compartments, as there were students whose parents were still around were saying goodbyes to each other.

Within that liveliness, Quinn was dressed in a black half-sleeved, buttoned-up collared shirt tucked under light-brown trousers. He also wore dark brown derby shoes, which attracted eyes as he shuffled along the corridor. For a moment, everyone would stop what they were doing, and their heads would turn as Quinn passed by.

Quinn arrived at the front and opened the door to a compartment. At first sight, he saw that it was double the size of the standard one. Inside he saw seven people already seated, but they weren't talking to each other.

"Good morning, people," greeting Quinn his fellow fifth-year Prefects, eyeing the Prefect badges that everybody except him were wearing over their non-uniform clothes. Some girls blushed a little when they saw Quinn smiling, while the boys sat up straight.

He closed the doors behind him and, as the doors closed, Quinn was heard speaking to the other Prefects, "Before the older Prefects come, let's make some things clear..." What he said would remain a secret between Quinn and the fifth-year Prefects.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

Quinn smoothed out his Hogwarts uniform with magic and checked the lapel badge over his chest. He watched the Hogwarts Express slow down at last and finally stop in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over everyone's heads. But Quinn seemed to be impervious to the downpour as raindrops seemed to bend away above Quinn as if avoiding him.

"Yeah... it's good to be back," grinned Quinn at the weather. Always, without exception, the Hogsmeade station was wet because of the rain.

He looked around calmly, as other students hurried towards the hundred horseless carriages that were standing, waiting for them outside the station. Among the crowd, Quinn noticed a group of three. Of the three, the only girl was waving her hand towards him.

Quinn's happy smile dropped immediately as he all but shouted as the trio came near him. "Oh, for Merlin's sake! This makes it the fifth year! How in magic do I keep missing you guys?!"

In front of him stood his two best friends: Eddie Carmicheal, Marcus Belby, and his much-loved junior/secretary/friend Luna Lovegood. In all five years of boarding the Hogwarts Express, not even once had Quinn seen Eddie and Marcus on the train.

"Maybe it's the Nargles!" Luna gave her two cents on the matter.

"Couldn't care less," yawned Eddie. He had just woken up five minutes ago.

"It's good to see you, mate," smiled Marcus, delighted to see his best friend.

"It could be Luna; the nargles are surely powerful... I love you too, Eddie... Ah, yes, Marcus, I missed you the most," replied Quinn to his friends.

"Do that to us too," said Eddie pointing towards the top of Quinn's head at the diverging rain.

Quinn took out his fake wand, and the rain parted above his friend's head. As long as it was water, Quinn could do all kinds of stuff with it.

"As expected, you became the Prefect," noted Marcus, pointing at the lapel badge. "Not surprising, to be honest. There's no one better for the role."

Eddie put his hands on Quinn's robes and fiddled with the blue-and-bronze badge. "I guess we won't have to worry about detentions."

"As long as you don't do anything extremely foolish, you will enjoy the privileges of a Prefect pal."

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," grimaced Marcus, shivering as they inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd. A hundred horseless carriages were standing, waiting for them outside the station. Quinn, Luna, Eddie, and Marcus climbed gratefully into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.

"Did you read about the World Cup?" asked Marcus in the carriage.

"I was there when those people got there," joined Eddie. "My father got us out of there quick."

Quinn subtly glanced at Eddie. On the fateful day, Quinn had gotten to the campsite before the game started, and while he waited for the Death Eaters, Quinn, while scouting the grounds, had seen the Carmichael tent. It wasn't near where Quinn had dragged the Death Eaters to disable them, but it hadn't been far enough. If perchance a Death Eater tried to go that way, Quinn would be extra brutal; two had tried, and Quinn had sliced both of their legs cleanly.

"It's great that you got out early," nodded Quinn. The scene he had caused hadn't been pretty. The noise had been enough to make some people's stomachs turn.

The incident had had a lot of media coverage. Afterwards, it had been dubbed as the "World Cup Carnage" because of the fifteen people taken to St. Mungos. The Medi-healers had been so shocked that, after stabilizing all the patients, the entire staff had had a meeting to figure out how to undo whatever curse was cast on the fifteen. Someone from the hospital staff had ratted on the details of the treatment and conditions.

The details had been on the front page the next day, and all Britain came to know about the events. After that article, from the second day onwards, Rita Skeeter took over and she wrote all the cover stories for the Daily Profit. She picked up on the similarities between the Hogsmeade attack and came up with a trending article that attracted a lot of eyes and ignited a lot of conversations:

?Vigilante or Villain: The True Identity.?

The catchy headline boosted the sales of Daily Profit and every other newspaper and magazine that covered the World Cup carnage. It had been a boon for Quinn because he could keep track of the situation and the fifteen test subjects without moving too much. Rita Skeeter's investigation did all the work for him, and because the story was scoop-worthy, Skeeter for once didn't manipulate the facts, as the facts were juicy enough on their own.

Quinn had been happy to see that all fifteen test subjects showed favorable reactions. The reactions had been adverse to the victims, but they had been the best reactions Quinn could have hoped for. His sole visit to St. Mungos while legilimencing the lead Medi-healer had disclosed that everything from the shoulder below had been paralyzed because of the intense nerve damage. None of the fifteen couldn't so much as twitch their fingers, much less, raise their hands or grip something.

Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, the carriages trundled up the sweeping drive while swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, Quinn could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain.

Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Quinn, Luna, Eddie, and Marcus jumped down from their carriage and dashed up the steps, too, looking up only when they were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall with its magnificent marble staircase.

"Blimey," said Marcus, looking at the dripping people, all soaking except them, "The lake's going to be in need of wat - WOAH!"

A big, blobby, red, water-filled balloon dropped from the ceiling onto Marcus's head and nearly exploded on impact - but it suddenly stopped in the air. Sputtering at almost being hit, Marcus staggered sideways into Eddie, just as a second water bomb dropped— narrowly missing Luna and almost bursting at Quinn's feet, but didn't, as it suddenly flew away and splashed away from the group, sending a wave of cold water over someone other's shoes and into the socks.

People all around shrieked and started pushing others in their efforts to get out of the line of fire. Quinn looked up and saw, floating twenty feet above them, Peeves the Poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his broad, malicious face contorted with concentration as he retook aim.

The first balloon, which had stopped in midair because Quinn was controlling it before it hit Marcus, suddenly turned back and shot towards the Peeves, drowning the Poltergeist in water. The vindictive Poltergeist screamed at being hit from his own water balloon.

"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!" Professor McGonagall, deputy headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall but then slid on the wet flood, so she grabbed Quinn around to stop herself from falling. Quinn took the Scottish witch into his arms and effortlessly stabilized her.

"Ouch — Excuse me, Mr. West —"

"That's all right, Professor." Quinn grinned. She pulled McGonagall up as if she didn't weigh anything.

McGonagall then proceeded to screech hell on Peeves. Quinn gestured to his friends to move along.

"Thank you for stopping the balloon," said Marcus.

Quinn put his left arm over Marcus's shoulder. "Don't mention it." He smirked. He raised his fake wand with his right hand and moved the water on the floor away from their path so that they wouldn't slip and slide.

The Great Hall was splendidly decorated as usual. Golden plates and goblets gleaned by the light of the hundreds and hundreds of candles that hovered over the tables in midair. The four large house tables were packed with chattering students and, at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along, facing their pupils. It was much warmer there.

The group walked past the Slytherins, Gryffindors, and Hufflepuffs and sat down with the rest of the Ravenclaws in the middle of the Hall, next to the Grey Lady, Helena Ravenclaw, the Ravenclaw ghost. Translucent as always, the Grey Lady was dressed tonight in her usual blueish grey dress, which held an aristocratic elegance in it despite being of simple design.

"Good evening," she said, staring at the current challenger of the vaults.

"Good evening to you too, my lady," greeted Quinn to the ghost who led Voldemort to Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem.

The conversation stopped as the Grey Lady went silent and Quinn went back to his friends. One of them didn't want to talk, while the other already knew the secret of the first.

"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Eddie, who was also looking up at the teachers. They had never had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. Their favorite, Professor Lupin, had resigned last year. After looking up and down the staff table, they didn't see anyone.

"Don't worry about it; whoever it is will be here," said Quinn, looking bored, but inside, he was waiting for them to arrive so he could whip out Recon to confirm what he suspected.

In the very center of the High Table sat Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster while his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight. His magnificent deep green robes were embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together, and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought. Quinn glanced up at the top too. It had been enchanted to look like the sky outside, and he had never seen it look this stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded out, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

"Aw, come on," Marcus moaned, opposite to the other three, "I could eat a hippogriff."

Just after he finished saying that, the doors of the Great Hall opened. Everyone became silent. Professor McGonagall started leading a long line of first years up to the front of the High Table. If the rest of the school were wet, it was nothing like these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were cold, shivering and nervous as they faced the staff table, halting in a line.

Professor McGonagall now placed a four-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an ancient, dirty, patched wizard's hat. And thus started the long yet festive tradition of house sorting.

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"About time," said Marcus, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.

Dumbledore got to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" said Marcus loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.

The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates. The remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.

After the puddings too had been finished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"Now that we've sated our hunger and quenched our thirst," said Dumbledore, smiling. "I must once again beg your attention."

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you that the list of objects forbidden this year includes Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises over four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be seen in Mr. Filch's office should you like to check."

Quinn nodded in satisfaction, as none of A.I.D. products were on the forbidden list.

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As always, I would like to insist that the Forbidden Forest is out-of-bounds to all students."

"It is my duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

There were many murmurs throughout the Great Hall and a few loud 'whats' from the Gryffindor table, but the loudest voice in the entirety of Hogwarts came from the Ravenclaw.

"What!... WHAT!... WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!" Eddie Carmichael stood from his seat and fixed his eyes on Dumbledore. He seemed as if he had killed his entire family. Every head except Luna's, busy eating an extra pudding, and Quinn with his eyes behind his hands turned to him.

Quinn's other hand went to Eddie's shoulder and pulled him down.

"Stop! Don't pull me down! Why the hell would he say that?! Who does he think he -" The voice cut off as Quinn silenced him with a silencing spell.

Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will start in October and will continue throughout the school year. As such, it will take up much of the teachers' time and energy— However, I am most sure we will enjoy it immensely. I have the great pleasure to announce that this year —"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder, and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled towards the stranger who, suddenly, became brightly illuminated by the lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, and began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily towards Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Luna gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into a sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any student had ever seen. He looked as though he had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like. Every inch of his skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him truly terrifying.

One of his eyes was small and dark. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye moved ceaselessly, without blinking, rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently from the normal eye — then it rolled right over, pointing at his back.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was badly scarred (just as his face) and Dumbledore shook it, muttering to him some words Quinn couldn't hear. He studied the stranger with an observant eye. The man sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the links, but the blue eye was still darted restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said

Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause. Still, none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore, Quinn, Eddie, and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded. Eddie clapped to release the frustration he was feeling. But the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped pretty quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again to his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak pulled a few inches from the ground, and some saw, below the table, several inches of a carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

'Polyjuice or not?' thought Quinn, and his hand went near the inner lining of his robe. In the end, he exercised patience and decided to wait.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody. "We have the honour of hosting a fascinating event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over three centuries."

"It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament shall be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly from the Gryffindor table. Both twins were grinning widely.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er — but maybe this is not the time… No..." said Dumbledore, "Where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament… Well, I'm sure some won't know what this tournament is. As such, I hope those who do know forgive me for giving an explanation.

The Triwizard Tournament was first established about seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools would host the tournament once every five years. It had been agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities. Until, that is, the death toll became so high that the tournament was discontinued."

"Death toll?" Marcus whispered, looking alarmed. But his anxiety was not shared by the majority of students in the Hall. Many of them whispered excitedly to one another, more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about the deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which have been very successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided that time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that no champion would find themself in mortal danger this time."

"The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place on October 31. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy of competing. The prize is a thousand Galleons."

"F**k it! I'm going to compete!" Eddie hissed, released from his silence. If there was no Quidditch, then he was going to use this to get a girlfriend. He didn't seem to be the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Quinn could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore or whispering fervently to their neighbours.

Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more. "As eager as I know you are," he said, "the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on the contenders. Only students of age —that is to say, seventeen years or older— shall be allowed to put forward their names for consideration."

'Yeah, right!' scoffed Quinn internally.

Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage. Eddie looked absolutely furious: "This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous. All the precautions we take wouldn't be enough, as it is improbable that students below the sixth and seventh year would be able to successfully complete each task. I will personally ensure that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them the Hogwarts champion."

His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Eddie's mutinous face. "I, therefore, beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive in October and will stay with us for the more significant part of this year. I know that you will extend our courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when they are selected. In any case, it is late, and I know how important it is to be rested to follow class as well as possible. Goodnight! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

"*&^#$% *&#[email protected]$ %09$#!!!" A string of profanities escaped Eddie's mouth. The Irish descendant seemed to have picked a lot of new and innovative terminology in the summer break.

"Don't worry. I have something planned," spoke Quinn nudging Eddie with his shoulder. "I may be able to pull something out of my hat that will please you."

The hurling of continuous abuses stopped as Eddie looked over towards Quinn. "What?"

"Not right now; I will tell you after I know," said Quinn. He then put his arm around Eddie. "Don't try to get into the tournament. Don't even think about it. If you even go near it, I'll break your legs." Eddie felt constricted with the arm around him tightening.

"It?" asked Eddie, struggling to escape, but Quinn's grip was too firm.

"My fault... forget about it. If I see or hear you trying to get into the tournament..." The sentence didn't need to be complete as Eddie got the message loud and clear. He didn't know why Quinn was so strict about this, but looking at his expression, Eddie wasn't going to argue.

"Er, Quinn... aren't you going to guide the first years to the common room?" said Marcus from the side.

"Oh, crap!" Quinn released Eddie from his grip and turned back to see his female counterpart struggling with the firsties. "I'll see you guys in the dorms... Need to guide these little ones to the best beds of Hogwarts, first."

"Go get 'em~," said Luna with a yawn, her eyes drooping.

Quinn ran towards the Ravenclaw table. They had been out of the Great Hall after Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

"Sorry about that," he apologised to his Prefect companion and then turned to the first years. "I am Quinn West, fifth-year, Prefect. If you have any questions regarding anything, don't hesitate to ask me."

He paused and gave a smile to every first-year student and said, "If you check your pocket, you will find something special..."

The firsties looked at each other as their hands went to their pockets, but instead of empty pockets, they were surprised when their hands felt something. All of them hurriedly took out the mysterious object to find a black card in their hands.

"You hold the most powerful thing in Hogwarts other than your magic..." grinned Quinn as his words got their full attention.

'Time for advertising...' he thought, before opening his mouth to introduce them to his A.I.D. network system.

.

- (Scene Break) -

.

After the day ended, Quinn sat on his poster bed inside his dorm room with the curtains drawn for privacy. He could hear the soft snores from his roommates. The midnight moon shone outside.

A sizeable rectangle of fabric laid on the fluffy bed. With a touch along with a whisper, the magic inside came to life. Multi-colored inks came from within it and coloured the fabric in its pre-decided design.

?Welcome to Recon?

The text and the graphics on the fabric thrummed, spiked with activity as the welcome text in blue disappeared. A detailed floor schematic appeared on the cloth with colorful dots dotting on the map with name tags beside every dot. Three blue dots: Quinn West, Eddie Carmichael, and Marcus Belby sat in the room, unmoving. Quinn looked to the right and saw Luna Lovegood in blue inside the girl's dorms. Two green dots pranced around the common room below.

"... Alastor Moody." The second the words escaped his mouth, the Recon's schematic moved. The map moved and switched to the fourth floor, near the faculty apartments.

A red dot of an outsider with red text showed Alastor Moody in the corner of the room.

"I guess that because he still hasn't taught a class, he is still considered an outsider," noted Quinn. Recon showed outsiders in red while the teachers in purple.

Quinn didn't have to say the other name because another dot walked into the room and moved closer to Alastor Moody. "Bartemius Crouch Junior," said Quinn, and he watched as the two reds almost coincided.

"What should I do with you?" The mind of the boy-wonder began spinning as some thoughts and plans began to build themselves for the future.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

Quinn West - MC - Bow down to the perfect Prefect!

Ms. Rosey - West family caretaker - Has given her warnings.

Eddie Carmichael - In shock - "F**k you, F**k him, F**k everybody!"

Marcus Belby - Dry and hungry - Kind as honey.

Luna Lovegood - Third-year, Ravenclaw - Sleepy...

Albus Dumbledore - Headmaster - Death toll... anyway, let's move on.

.

-*-*-*-*-*-

.

If you have any ideas regarding the magic you want to see in this fiction or want to offer some ideas regarding the progression. Move onto the DISCORD Server and blast those ideas.

The link is in the synopsis!