There was a huge silence. Then, suddenly, the Hall erupted. 

"DAISY! DAISY!" Everyone was yelling. Cheers and claps broke out everywhere, even along the Slytherin table, thunderous applause rung out and echoed off the enchanted ceiling. Harry was sprinting up to me from the Gryffindor table, followed by Fred and George, Terry, and Draco. Harry flew into me, squeezing me tight to him, sobbing freely. The Insurgents gathered around us in a massive hug. Draco reached through all the boys surrounding me and kissed me; Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Dean, Seamus, and the rest of our squad were joining us; the whole Hall was standing up, cheering and applauding my return. 

Fred grabbed my hand again, tugging me to the Gryffindor table, grinning. Draco looked after us with a glare on his face. I smirked to myself as I saw him, and he looked at me as I mouthed 'jealous?' at him.

He glared huffily at me as he plopped himself back down at the Slytherin table. Jealously looks cute on him. I propped my chin on my other hand as I gazed at him for a minute. 

"Yes, yes... Wonderful indeed... Miss Potter is back..." Dumbledore finished clapping too, slowly taking a seat again. "Back to where we were before ... Although I would like to speak to you, Miss Potter, in the morning when we have time..."

"Doesn't everyone always want to speak to me in general, though?" I flipped my hair over my shoulder, grinning around at everyone in the Hall. They all nodded, laughing. 

"Anyway... I must ask once more for your attention while I give out a few notices." Dumbledore announced again. "Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs - mainly Miss Potter and Mr Boot's fault, I believe. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I assume, and can be viewed in Mr Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it." 

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched.

"We should go check it so we can bring each of the four hundred and thirty-seven objects." I snickered to Fred, who was beside me, and, as I suddenly realised, still had a grip on my hand. Whatever. I mean, he's probably just extra glad I'm back.

"For real though," Fred said to me after his fit of laughter, "what happened? Are you alright? Who kidnapped you? What did that guy mean about You-Know-Poo?"

"I'll tell you guys later." I said, as everyone else in my squad tuned in, turning round in their seats to look at us. "It was actually great banter! And really, there's nothing to worry about, just forget about it and enjoy the last free night we have before surrendering to class tomorrow."

Everyone murmured their agreement, wincing at the thought of class, but a few excited giggles erupted as we all thought of the actual banter and disruptive behaviour we would encourage in class.

Dumbledore continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year - yes, I'm looking at you, Miss Potter and Mr's Weasley.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." 

"WHAT?" Harry and I gasped simultaneously. I looked around at Fred and George, who were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. 

He continued, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year..." 

I was scheming... I made eye contact with Harry, who nodded. No way was I missing Quidditch, it was what kept me ALIVE, damnit!

"...but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-" 

I jumped up from my seat and faced the Hall.

"If the teachers won't host the Quidditch Cup, we will!" I announced furiously to the Hall. Everyone cheered, a couple of voices from the Ravenclaw table shouting loudly, "Hear, hear!"

Dumbledore looked amusedly at us over his spectacles. "Well, the students may host their own Quidditch Cup if they want." As I sat back down, grinning, a strange man sitting at the teachers' table caught my eye. He had a huge fake eye that was rolling around and a heavily scarred face. He winked at me with his normal eye, and I quickly jerked back round in my seat. Um... okay then. "But as I was saying... we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" Fred and I said loudly. 

Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively. 

"I am NOT joking, Miss Potter, Mr Weasley." He said. "Though, now 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 -" 

Minnie cleared her throat loudly.

"Er - but maybe this is not the time... no..." Dumbledore said. "Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament..." He then went on to describe what it was, but I zoned out, turning to Fred and George and high-fiving them: I already knew what the Tournament was, as us Insurgents discussed it occasionally and wistfully, wishing that we could have participated in one for the banter.

"...That is, until the death toll mounted so high that the Tournament was discontinued."

"DEATH TOLL?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly with each other, and I was, if anything, MORE pumped that this thing is more dangerous than I thought! 

"...An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. Indeed, we could use the prize money for our joke shop...

"Hell yeah, me too!" I enthused down the table also, and several Gryffindors leaned over to high-five us. 

However, we were not the only people who were visualising ourselves as the Hogwarts champion. At every house table, I could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore or whispering fervently to their neighbours. 

I looked over at the Slytherin table, and saw Floppy boasting loudly to his friends; Pansy Pratinson was flipping her hair over her shoulder as all of her friends gazed at her with awestruck faces, and she smirked at me as she noticed me. Draco was smirking slightly over at me too, and he pointed to himself once he noticed I was looking at him, then mimed holding a huge cup. I blushed. Imagining Draco as Hogwarts champion was doing things to me, and I hurriedly looked away to clear my mind of admittedly rather hot images of Draco holding the cup, his robes billowing behind him in the wind, and a proud stance with a straight back and a triumphant smirk. 

I shuddered, a shiver of pleasure shooting down my spine, and I glanced over at Terry, who was gesturing to George, pointing at himself and the three of us at the Gryffindor table, then bursting out laughing. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quietened once more. 

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the Heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This," - Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people including me had made noises of outrage at these words, and the twins were suddenly looking furious, along with Terry and Draco. Draco glared at his table, and I read his thoughts, sniggering as I heard, 'Damn it, now I can't seduce Daisy by winning the Cup and being all heroic and shit' - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the Tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light-blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over mine, Terry, Fred and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen." 

He then sent us off to bed, and there was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet, and swarmed towards the double doors into the Entrance Hall. 

"They can't do that!" George said, who had not joined the crowd moving towards the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

"They're not stopping me entering." Fred said stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally -" "But since when has that stopped us, Red?" I cut in, "- yeah, true. But a thousand Galleons prize money!" 

"Yeah..." Terry said, who had come over from the Ravenclaw table, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons..." 

"Come on." Hermione said. "We'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and I set off for the Entrance Hall, bidding Terry a 'cheeky goodnight', Fred, George, and I debating the ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen entering the Tournament. 

"I don't see why they couldn't just put the boundary at sixth year though, instead of seventeen." I said logically. "If apparently people under sixth year can't handle it. Sixth year does include sixteen-year-olds, too, do they know?"

Fred and George nodded, grumbling.

"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" Harry said. 

"Dunno," I said, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Ageing Potion might do it, Red, Bushy..."

"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though." Ron said.

"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" Fred said shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he or she'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."

"People have died, though!" Hermione said in a worried voice, as we walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.

"Yeah," Fred said airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if George, Daisy, Terry, and I find out how to get round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harry. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older... Daisy's one thing, she's way smarter than us, but dunno if we've learnt enough..."

"I definitely haven't." Neville's gloomy voice came from behind Fred and George. "I expect my gran'd want me to try, though, she's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honour. I'll just have to - ooops..."

Neville's foot had sunk right through a step halfway up the staircase. There were many of these trick stairs at Hogwarts; it had become second nature to most of us older students to jump this particular step, but Neville's memory was notoriously poor. Harry and I seized him under the armpits and pulled him out, while a suit of armour at the top of the stairs creaked and clanked, laughing wheezily. I winced as a few of my cuts twinged with pain.

"Shut it, you." Ron said, banging down its visor as we passed. 

We made our way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. 

"Password?" The Fat Lady said as we approached. 

"Balderdash." George said. "A Prefect downstairs told me." 

As we made our way up to our dorm, we said goodnight to Harry, Ron, and Neville, who banged into their dorm, Dean and Seamus inside already and getting into bed. Seamus had pinned his Ireland rosette to his headboard, and Dean had tacked up a poster of Viktor Krum over his bedside table. His old poster of West Ham football team was pinned right next to it. 

The last thing we saw was Ron sighing, "Mental." as he shook his head at the completely stationary football players. 

But when Fred, George, and I joined Lee, who was already passed out on his bed, I couldn't take it any longer. 

"Guys..." I started to warn them, before I just couldn't hold back any more, and my wings burst out of my back. 

Luckily, they were a sort of smaller version, more proportional to my body size and able to fold behind me, and feathers floated around the room, blood dripping from them. My glamour dropped too, my cuts appearing all over my arms and legs and face, the stab wound in my stomach still shining brightly.

"Holy fuck, Softpaw." George exclaimed. 

"Looks like she would literally be a holy fuck." Fred snickered, and the two high-fived.

"Are you guys not even fazed out by this at all?" I panted. The twins shrugged, grinning. 

"Wow." Fred grinned. "So you're... what? An angel?"

"Yeah, actually." I swayed on my feet, and Fred reached over, steadying me. 

"I think we'd better get you to Madam Pomfrey..." He said, a hint of anxiety in his voice. 

"No..." I melted into his hand, which was pushing against my shoulder. "I can fix it myself. Just... one of you give me your DS."

George handed over his Nintendo DS without inquiry, as if best friends who were angels and sliced up asked for his DS all the time while refusing medical care. 

I went on the camera and took a picture of the white light shining from my wounds, then handed George's DS back. "TY." 

"Dude." George said as he chucked the DS back onto his bed. "Fix yourself, you're gonna bleed out and die and then we'll have no one to prank with except Terry, and you know what he's like when it's only us three." 

I nodded. "Fair." When it was just those three, Terry liked to fill the gap of a person missing, and ranted on and on about science or politics or other various fields of his interest, some much more advanced than our knowledge, and Fred and George really couldn't keep up with him if they tried. RIP them. Having a member of our squad be a Ravenclaw amongst Gryffindors is very challenging sometimes, I'll admit.

I focused very hard, and the cuts on my body slowly sealed up. I swayed on my feet more this time, and Fred swooped me up, gently laying me on my bed. His fingers accidentally brushed against my feathers, and a shock of what I could only describe as pure pleasure shot down my spine, it felt that good. I let out a huge moan, and the two boys both looked at me in surprise - then burst out laughing.

"Softpaw, my man, what the fuck?" George nearly pissed himself, collapsing to the floor. Fred cackled, smirking at me, and I felt a strange flutter in my chest. 

"Wha-what? What's going on?" Lee had woken up and spoke blearily from his bed. 

"I guess we'd better call everyone up here." I said, grinning. "Time for a sleepover and a cheeky explanation!"