2. emptiness.

                                    

                                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
✠
"May I introduce you to your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody." 
Okay. Okay. Good. 
She could remember that day a bit too well. Waking up one morning, happy because it had started to rain. The wind was blowing wildly, making the cables outside the muggle street whistle as the trees began to dance around. 
"Yvette, could you get the Prophet?" her mum called as she went downstairs. El sighed, so clueless about what was going to happen and how her life was going to change forever. 
The paper seemed to have a charm so it couldn't get soaked, so as she lifted it, she caught a glimpse of the main title. 
TRAGEDY. ENTIRE FAMILY MURDERED LAST NIGHT. 
El wished she hadn't kept reading. She could just remember three words: Olive Grayson and Moody. And the worst of all, they did not specify the cause of their deaths. Nobody could guess what got them killed, only that they were murdered in cold blood as they prepared for bed. 
"El, 'you coming with us?" 
She snapped back to the present. Harry was staring at her, and for a moment she felt kind of scared about the spacing out. But no time for that now, she had to play it cool until her brain was convinced it was all cool and that everything was going to be hell from that moment on. El gave him a firm nod and followed them to the common room. 
"So what do you think about the Triwizard tournament?"
"Huh?"
"No offense, but you're kind of scaring me now," said Harry. "Weren't you listening to Dumbledore?" 
"Well clearly I wasn't." 
"Okay, people from Dumstrang and Beuxbatons will be coming here in october to participate on a tournament where they select a champion from every school and they get themselves almost killed. The usual." 
"Beuxbatons?" El frowned. "Here? In Scotland?" 
"Yup," he said. "Why?" 
"My grandad teaches there. But he probably won't come."
"Oh, are you french?"
"What? No! I wished."
"Is he?"
"No."