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SIX HOLLIDAY LIPPINCOTT

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       HOLLIDAY LIPPINCOTT.

       It is a variation of another name, one that replaces the first name with the nickname Holly. It is a name that has been thrown around frequently over the past couple months, ever since she stood in line with the first years to be sorted, at least a head taller than them, with ice-white hair and a gaze a couple notches down from piercing. Sometimes, it's mentioned with the fact that she's cousins with Draco Malfoy, or how she's already been accepted into Pansy Parkinson's gang. Other times it's whispered gossiping, about I heard she used to go to Durmstrang, and apparently her mum's one of the Death Eaters in Azkaban.

       Recently, it's been noted with another thing. She's actually really clever. Which Holliday Lippincott would like to agree with, along with the idea that she's a jack of all trades, and a master of none. Every lesson she's got her hand up, answering questions like they're an easy breeze, a walk in the park. Every lesson she impresses the teachers and surprises the other kids sitting in the classroom, because who would've thought? Some random girl from Durmstrang knows her shit.

       Holliday is after the Breakfast at Tiffany's character, her paternal grandmother's favourite book — her dad wanted to name her his mother's name, Judy, but his mother refused to allow a little baby to have the name of an old lady, and thus, he drew inspiration from the book his mother Judy always read, and now, the book Holliday Lippincott always reads. Lippincott is after her father. Thankfully, because by the time she had been born, her mother had already realised how dangerous it was to keep Baby Holliday with her, and therefore, her mother had already been in contact with her father, to tell him that he was to look after the baby. You never know, with all of the werewolves around, they might sniff out the half-blood child.

       Holliday, dearest, is the name written neatly on a light-blue envelope, the back sealed with a white wax, the crest of a family sitting neatly, guarding the letter from being opened. Holliday, dearest, is the name written inside, on the letter, which arrived on Holliday dearest's eleventh birthday, along with a key to a vault in the wizarding world. The letter explained the situation — I wish this was not the way we first spoke, my dearest daughter, but due to the events eleven years ago it is the only option we unfortunately have.

       The Wizarding World is torn apart, and I believe it still is, when you're reading this. You have muggleborns and half-bloods and purebloods, and you fall under half-blood, which I know is not a bad thing, but a lot of people in the world believe it is the most dreadful thing. A lot of witches and wizards despise muggles — those who cannot perform magic — and when I was younger I believed this, because that's what my friends thought, why wouldn't they say something false? But it is false — it does not matter who your parents are, the only thing that matters is who you are.

        But when I fell pregnant with you, I was one of the evil people, believing that the world should not include muggles, or anyone with their blood. As soon as you appeared, I knew that wasn't true, but I knew we would both be dead if I told anyone who your father was, how he's a muggle. So I lied and told people that he was a wizard and he was very respected in the American's version of the Ministry of Magic, called MACUSA, because you know what the American wizards are like, they'd rather die than let anyone know about what occurs in their government. I don't know how ghastly it'll be for you, if the truth were to emerge, but as I write this, it's just as dangerous as sitting in a bath of petrol next to a candle.

       Holliday Lippincott is a girl of many talents; a jack of all trades but a master of none. Although that's better than a master of one, her dad would always tell her. But the case was still that — she knew how to duel, she knew her charms from her curses, but there was nothing she excelled at more than others. At least, she didn't think so.

       And now, Holliday Lippincott is a champion.

       (Shit.)

       The Great Hall is dead silent. Shocked faces turn to her, and she feels Pansy and Daphne on either side of her sit closer, as if that's any sort of protection from the amount of people staring at her, the amount of students that looked both surprised and angered that Hufflepuff's glory has been taken. Holly feels her stomach sitting on the floor, her heart banging in her chest, and it takes a minute before Pansy seems to come to senses, and put a hand on Holly, ushering her to stand up and walk to the front of the hall.

       Holly knows she'll have to wait until later to clear her name to her friends, to prove that yeah, just 'cause the idea seemed OK a while ago, doesn't mean that she would've actually figured out how to enter. She's too young, surely? Surely she doesn't know as much as the other ones — she isn't ready, she isn't ready, she isn't ready.

       "Through the door, Holly," says Dumbledore, who is staring at her. Holly looks over her shoulder, where Harry Potter is now a couple metres away from her and their headteacher. He's had to walk past the Hufflepuffs, which must have been terrible. Holly fiddles with her fingers, lightly moving one of her nails up and down another finger, trying to buy time and wait for Harry Potter. That's the polite thing, she supposes.

       Dumbledore says the same to Harry Potter, and before he can look at her, Holly starts to move towards the door the other champions had gone through. She sees the other three champions standing next to the fire, and she hears the door close behind her. Holly still doesn't look at Harry Potter. She feels like she's in a narrative she shouldn't be in; he's some chosen one, she's just Holliday Lippincott, a living lie thanks to her mother.

       "What is it?" says Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion. She has a pretty French accent, and if this was any other situation, Holly would admire that more. "Do they want us back in the Hall?"

       Holly holds onto the diamond hanging from her necklace, moving it along the chain. She tries to avoid eye contact with anyone else. If she does, she knows she'll immediately give away her emotion. She's scared, she's worried, she's confused. Most of all, she's scared. What if she gets into trouble? She knows that Hogwarts isn't as nasty as Durmstrang, but still. The look on Dumbledore's face makes her doubt that idea. Maybe she was too nice, on her judgements of Hogwarts. What if it's worse than Durmstrang?

       "Extraordinary!" says Ludo Bagman, as he walks into the room, making both her and Harry Potter move closer into the room. At one point he puts his hand on her arm, like he did with Harry Potter, to move her closer, but Holly steps away and just follows. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen... lady... May I introduce — incredible though it may seem — the fourth and fifth Triwizard champions?"

       It's easy to tell that the other three do not believe this. Holly feels ashamed of herself, like it's her fault she's been thrown into this. If she had any idea of this, she wouldn't be scared, she wouldn't be hoping that if anything goes wrong, her dad can swoop in and help her out, like he always does. She wants her dad here. She doesn't want to do this.

       And then she realises that she'll be greeted by Karkaroff momentarily, along with Dumbledore and Madame Maxime. And her stomach drops even more than it already has. Dread is already beginning to gnaw at her insides, chew on her bones, poison her thoughts of memories of her old headmaster, her old school, her old school life.

       "But evidently there has been a mistake," says Fleur. Holly hopes there has been, truly. "They cannot compete. They are too young."

       "Well... it is amazing," says Bagman. He rubs the hairs on his chinny-chin-chin, and he smiles at both her and Harry Potter. She does not smile back. She's trying to think of how to get out this event before she has to have any sort of interaction with Karkaroff. She thought that she'd be able to avoid him, she wouldn't be in the tournament, why would they ever cross paths? But now she is. She's a champion. And he's going to walk in, and he's going to speak to her, and she wants to vomit.

       "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure," says Bagman. An extra shadow appears next to the fireplace. Holly feels a little better. "And as their names have come out of the goblet... I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage... It's down in the rules, you're obliged... Harry and Holly will just have to do the best they—"

       The door opens. Dumbledore and Crouch and Karkaroff and Madame Maxime and McGonagall and Snape — they all arrive, walking in, ignoring the students talking outside in the hall. McGonagall closes the door, and Holly's thankful for that.

      "Madame Maxime!" says Fleur. "They are saying that these little children are to compete also!"

       Holly tilts her head slightly. Um.

       Madame Maxime turns to Dumbledore. "What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?"

       "I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," says Karkaroff. Holly, without thinking, inches backwards. As if they'll forget she's a champion and he won't look at her, won't speak to her. Please leave me alone, she thinks. "Three Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed three champions — or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

       Karkaroff does it. The laugh. The tiny little laugh, too long to be a scoff, but infused with nastiness, reminding her of how terrible he is, why she left. She wants to leave now.

       "C'est impossible," says Madame Maxime. "Hogwarts cannot have three champions. It is most injust."

       "Especially considering one could have been a Durmstrang champion," says Karkaroff. He looks at Holly. Holly looks back at him. She can't show she's scared of him. That's what he lives off of. "Was that the intention? To take one of my best students and use them to your advantage, so that you can win?"

       Susannah appears next to her. "Stand up for yourself, for fuck's sakes," she says, rather forcefully. "If you don't then he's going to think that, isn't he? Say something, fucker! What is he going to do? This isn't his school!"

       Holly knows she's right, which is annoying, really. Karkaroff can't be terrible here, he'll get into trouble. Holly's safe here. She can say something, clear her name, prove she didn't plan this. "You know that isn't why I left, sir," she says. Karkaroff looks at her again, perhaps surprised she spoke back. But she said sir, so she was being respectfully rude. Holly looks back at him, until he turns away.

       Susannah claps. "See? He can't do anything!"

       "We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," says Karkaroff, which to Holly seems like an attempt to change the subject. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

       "It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff. Lippincott, on the other hand, is a surprise to us all and I expect we'll look further into that," says Snape. And this is when Holly frowns slightly, and glances at Harry Potter, who's watching Snape speak. But it seems a little stupid, doesn't it? How Snape's cool with her being in the tournament against her will, but immediately he blames Harry Potter for it. Hm. Weird. "However, don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here—"

       "Thank you, Severus," says Dumbledore. He turns to her and Harry Potter, looking relatively expressionless, perhaps on the calmer side of things. At least Holly thinks so. She thinks he looks calm. Compared to the others, he is. "Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"

       "No," both say.

       Susannah floats further up into the air, looking bored. Everyone's glance continues to dart from her to Harry Potter. Holly keeps on looking over at Susannah to try and ignore the handful of stares.

       "Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?"

       "No," they both say, only Harry Potter's a little more forceful in saying so. Holly on the other hand tries to present herself as calm and collected. This isn't her first rodeo, with a teacher asking questions like this.

       Madame Maxime shakes her head, like it is the most preposterous thing, two people telling the truth. "Ah, but they are lying!" she exclaims.

       Holly has to stop herself from talking back, from standing up for herself. She knows that, although this conversation is about her, it does not include her. The grown-ups are discussing the matter at hand with each other, not with those it involves.

       And that's what continues. The three headmasters lightly bicker. At one point the judges weigh in their two cents — we must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament. Then they throw in the fact that the Goblet of Fire won't reignite until the start of the next tournament—

       "In which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" says Karkaroff, looking deeply offended by the whole thing. Good. Holly thinks it's perfectly fine for him to get a little upset, to have a temper tantrum. Like the three-year-old he is. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"

      "Empty threat, Karkaroff," says Moody, stepping into the room. If Holly didn't want to expose her emotions to the whole room — and she doesn't, in front of Karkaroff this is a weakness — she'd smirk. She knows Karkaroff used to be a Death Eater, still have the mark on his arm. And Moody knows that, doesn't he? And Moody must like her, she's pretty good at Defence Against the Dark Arts — wait, scratch that, of course she's good, she resisted Imperius.

       So it's good that Moody's here. He'll be on her side — their side, she corrects herself, remembering Harry.

       "You can't leave your champion now," says Moody. Holly finds a little happiness in the grumpy look on Karkaroff's face. She knows it's pathetic of her but she can't help it. He looks unhappy. She feels the opposite. "He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

       "Convenient?" says Karkaroff. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."

       "Don't you?" says Moody. Holly can see the anger on Karkaroff's face. She's trying her best not to take a page out of Susannah's book and jump for joy. "It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter and Lippincott's names in that goblet knowing they'd have to compete if it came out."

       Madame Maxime looks like she'd turn her nose up in the air, if her head wasn't already brushing against the ceiling. "Evidently, someone who wished to give Hogwarts three bites at the apple!"

        "I quite agree, Madame Maxime," says Karkaroff. "It is especially unfair, considering Lippincott's competing for Hogwarts despite most of her knowledge being taught at Durmstrang. I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards—"

       "If anyone's got reason to complain, it's Potter and Lippincott," says Moody. Which is true. Holly agrees with this completely. And, if anything — the thing about her knowledge coming mostly from Durmstrang? That's fine by her. It feels like kicking Karkaroff in the face... And if she won, could you imagine, he'd get so angry... "But... funny thing... I don't hear them saying a word."

       "Why should they complain?" says Fleur. She stamps her foot. Holly wants to frown, and say, and you say I'm a little child? Uh? "They have a chance to compete, haven't they? We have all been hoping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! The honour for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money — this is a chance many would die for!"

       A thousand Galleons? Holly wasn't informed about this. That's around five thousand pounds. Can you imagine? She could go to Hawaii.

       And honour for our schools? More like honour for Slytherin, some sort of glory for them to finally receive. Holly hears Moody respond, and the others weigh in and shove the conversation back towards an argument, but she thinks about what she had been saying to Harlow a few weeks ago, about what if a Slytherin was the champion?

       Imagine, right. The champion's Slytherin, they're an amazing student, they're not a jack of all trades, but a master of a few, and they exercise the traits they do have! They're cunning, and they're ambitious, but they're not prejudiced — they're against it, actually, and they encourage others to be the same, to learn about the people they think they hate.

       She could do that.

       She knows she's cunning, that's the way to survive at Durmstrang. She knows she's ambitious, she knows she'll find a way to win if she sets her mind to it. And she knows she isn't prejudiced, come on. She could do it, though. She could be the best damned champion and she could get Slytherin the glory it deserves.

       She could.

       Of course she'd need to practice every day, from now onwards. Her dad's a sports fanatic, and he always talks about how if you've got a healthy body, you'll have a healthy mind, a mind that can win. She'll be quicker on her toes if she's fitter — she can grow running, up and down next to the lake in the morning, and she can use the old warming spell to go swimming, maybe the fear of the giant squid will some kind of motivation, maybe even a fun twist on swimming laps, escaping a giant squid. And she can get her friends to practice duelling with her again, and they can help her, they won't object, if she wins it's a win for all of them, it's a win for Slytherin.

         Holliday Lippincott is going to win.

        "Well, shall we crack on, then?" says Bagman, smiling like an child on Christmas Day. It's almost as if he's ignored the past half-hour of the teachers arguing with each other. Holly makes sure she's actually listening to this, not half-listening to the teachers earlier. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honours?"

       "Yes, instructions," says Crouch. "Yes... the first task..." How do I win, she thinks. "The first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard, very important... The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.

       "The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

       Holly's finding this tournament more and more attractive.

       "I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

       "I think so," says Dumbledore. The grown-ups talk about having a drink and whatever. As Madame Maxime leads Fleur out of the room, and Karkaroff leaves with Krum, Dumbledore smiles at the three remaining. "Harry, Holly, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed. I am sure your houses are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

       The three exchange a look. Holly's aware that the other two must know each other, she gets that sort of vibe from them, when they nod at each other. Oh well. Nothing to do with her, isn't it? She doesn't know them. They don't know her. Whatever.

       "So, we're playing against each other again!" says Cedric, once the three of them are out of the room, and back in the hall, which is darker due to the candles burning lower. Holly knows that he's talking to Harry, so walks a little ahead of them. Not enough to be a separate thing — it's probably a good thing if she's friendly with the other champions — but enough to know she isn't really a part of the conversation, but oh well.

       "I suppose," says Harry.

       "So, tell me," says Cedric. "How did you get your name in?" 

       Holly turns around. Now she's in the conversation.

       "I didn't," says Harry, frowning. From the look on his face, and what her friends have said about him, you can tell he's been through a lot here. "I didn't put it in. I was telling the truth."

       And then they both look at her. Holly smiles. "Oh, please, if I did it, you'd already know. My friends would've mentioned it." Which is true. They would've said it in a sly remark, how Slytherin was going to win because of her.

       Which again, is true.

       "Ah... OK..." says Cedric. He looks unconvinced. "Well... see you, then."

       He walks towards a door next to the hall. Both Holly and Harry pause for a minute, as Cedric closes the door behind him, a click sounding as he does so. Holly feels very, incredibly aware that she does not know Harry, not in the slightest. And her cousin's Draco. Wonderful. Only Holly can get herself into this sort of situation.

       "So," says Holly. She turns to Harry, putting her hands in the pockets of her robe. "Get the feeling he doesn't believe us?"

       "You didn't put your name in, then?" says Harry.

       Holly raises an eyebrow. "Did you?"

       "No," he says, a little standoffish.

       "Then, why would I?" asks Holly. Look. The thing is, she knows she's being a little more confident, a little more defensive, because she doesn't know him. Plus, her friends despise him with every bone in their bodies, and she feels like she has to keep her guard, you never know. "I mean, we've got to do it, so we may as well get on with it."

       Harry frowns. "We could die."

       "Well, maybe with that attitude," says Holly.

       He frowns at her again. The same as he keeps on doing. Which Holly gets, he probably thinks she's got to be some evil villain, considering how he sees her friends, and how she mysteriously arrived at Hogwarts this year, not first year like she should've done.

       "You keep on doing that," says Holly, frowning. Harry blinks a couple of times. In the distance, she can see Susannah trying to swim in the air. Which is odd, considering the fact that it seems to be butterfly. "Like you're trying to read my thoughts."

       "No, I don't," he says.

       "It looks like it," she says. 

       "Well, I'm not," says Harry.

       Holly nods. "OK."

       "I'm not."

       "All right."

       "I'm not—"

       "It's normally something to do with Hollywood, my dad's from around there," says Holly. Harry continues to frown at her, and she chooses to smile back at her. "Anyway — if you're wondering about who entered you, I'd say get on with it. You've got to compete, may as well have a go."

       Harry frowns at her. "You're not wondering why—?"

       "Well, yeah, a little, but what's that going to do?" says Holly. She shrugs. "I've got to do, regardless if I knew who put my name in. The better option is to focus on the tournament and how to win — the older ones don't think we're good, we've got an advantage."

       "Someone does want me dead, though—"

      "Voldemort's dead," says Holly.

      "What about the Death Eaters?"

       "They can't Apparate into school."

       Karkaroff was one.

       "But, anyway," says Holly. "I'm going to my common room. See you around."

       Don't think about that. Don't get involved.

       Holly walks further down the corridor, turning a corner as she sighs to herself. She's a little concerned, as to why she's in the tournament. Who wouldn't be? It isn't like she's a chosen one, or famous, or anything. Around Hogwarts she's only known because she joined in her fourth year. Not because she stopped Voldemort, not because she's a famous Quidditch player or because she's the captain of the team, not because she might be veela. She's nothing but a girl — Holliday Lippincott.

       And you know what? She might just be that, but that doesn't mean she can do things. Holliday Lippincott may just be a girl, but she's a girl that won every duel at her old school's duelling club. She's a fast swimmer, can breathe underwater for fifty-seven seconds. She's got a ghost by her side, one that can hear other conversations and help her out. She's smart, she knows her shit.

       Just because she isn't known for anything special doesn't mean she can't do anything special.

       And that's just what she's going to do.

       Holliday Lippincott is going to win.

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