Professor Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak, she merely glared. She wasn't the only one either; Karkaroff livid.
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" Bagman said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honours?"
Mr Crouch seemed to come out of a deep reverie.
"Yes," he said. "Instructions. Yes . . . the first task . . ."
Heri and Cedric return to the dorms both very dissatisfied. The agitated crowd that had been waiting for them had mixed feelings when they were told that Heri was required to compete as well. On one hand, Hogwarts having two champions was unfair and came about through someone tampering with the Goblet of Fire; on the other hand, both champions for Hogwarts were Hufflepuffs, both were heavily popular for their own merits, and both were known for being talented. It seemed that the outcome was actually heavily in Hufflepuff's favour despite the sketchy means.
Heri threw herself into her usual seat between Sally-Anne and Hannah when everyone had calmed down enough to pretend to go back to the usual night's routine even as the chatter about the Tournament was used as background noise to their studying and faffing about. She sighed heavily through her nose when her friends asked if she was alright.
"Three will be expected, but four will come," Heri said eventually. She looked at Sally-Anne and smiled wryly. "This is one interpretation we didn't consider."
Dear Sirius,
Due to the unfortunate luck that plagues me whenever Halloween comes around, I've destroyed part of the Great Hall with a fireball I punched and got chosen as a fourth champion for the Triwizard Tournament. I hope you realize that you and Remus are now obligated to come and watch whether you had been planning to or not.
I would ask you to contact your solicitor, but, apparently, the contract is magically binding. Did I mention that I hate Halloween? Well, I do.
Love,
Heri
P.S. Please tell Auntie Andromeda to send me a pair of gloves that are unassuming enough to be worn casually, but are nice enough that I can wear them with dress-robes. The fireball that I punched was made from the flames of the Goblet of Fire; apparently, magically-induced burn scars are like curse scars and can't be undone. I would be more upset, but the scars are flame-shaped and actually look really wicked.
On another plane of existence, the body of a man was stretched out across a thick mattress and soft sheets. His breath was even and deep, the slow inhalation of a person in a deep slumber. All was quiet, the silence of the chamber as calm as an undiscovered tomb.
Suddenly, the man jolted, his head turning to the side as if turning to look at someone. With a groan, a bleary eye cracked open, the colour a dark forest green. The gaze was unfocused and soon slid closed again, the man drawing in a deep breath before going limp once again.
October 31st, he thought as he drifted back to sleep. It was her birthday.
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The Metamorphosis pt. 2 (pt. 2)
Bane and Firenze were displeased at hearing of Heri's participation in the Triwizard Tournament. 'Displeased' was almost an understatement with the way Bane had cursed the idiocy of wizards and their magical bindings that did as much harm to themselves as they did to other creatures. They then decided that it was imperative that she spend the entirety of the time she didn't spend in class on repeated days honing her skills in the Forest.
Since that day, Heri was worked into the ground — both her instructors agreed that they couldn't waste any time in whipping her into proper physical condition to compete against students bigger and older than herself. In effect, the Forest's population of acromantulas and other aggressive monsters was at its lowest as a result.
Joining them in Heri's training were a handful of dryads and other nature Beings whom the centaurs had convinced to help. While sweet-faced and retiring in personality, those ladies ran Heri through the wringer with exercises on flexibility and light-footedness. As she huffed and puffed behind the tree nymphs that ran like the wind through the greenery, Heri acknowledged that she normally made an awful lot of noise as she sprinted at a speed not that much faster than the average human. Oh, sure, she was as evasive as any nymph, but she wasn't yet anywhere near as fast. Still, she liked to imagine that her stealth and evasion could now be likened to those of a ninja.
The nymphs kindly hammered speed into her skinny limbs — some of them took to chasing after her with swords that they had already proved that they were willing to use. Nothing like increasing your speed by running for your fucking life.
On top of physical work, the nymphs began teaching her their kind of magic. It turned out that some of them had been witches before; while many had been born nature spirits, others had been transformed by deities they had encountered long, long ago. While their magic was different enough that there were things Heri would never be able to do — Outrun gods; photosynthesise; travel tree-to-tree through the ground — she could (eventually) learn to meld into the body of a tree and even transform herself into a plant. It was slow going, but she hoped to be able to perform at least one of the skills being taught to her before the Tasks started.
(Though she didn't know what good turning into to a tree would do her outside of the off-chance that one of the Tasks involved avoiding detection. Well, whatever. The nymphs wanted to teach her, and at the very least she would have the option available to her if a situation ever called for it.)
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