Harry Potter of Number 4 Privet Drive woke to his uncle pounding his fist against the cupboard door. "Wake up! Get up! Today's an important day!" Uncle Vernon bellowed in-between pounds.
Harry groaned and sat up, taking his glasses from his nightstand and placing them on the bridge of his nose. He heard his uncle's heavy footsteps fade down the hall. Why is today so important? He thought sleepily to himself. Harry glanced around his room – well, the cupboard under the stairs that served as his room – and tried to blink the sleep from his eyes. A letter on his nightstand caught his attention.
"That's right…" Harry muttered to himself. "Today is the Goblet of Fire drawing…"
Vernon's stern knocking returned. "Get up, boy!"
"I'm up, I'm up." Harry said, hastily pulling on clothes, tucking his wand in his back pocket.
He slipped into the hallway and turned into the kitchen where he was immediately greeted by the smell of bacon; which his cousin, Dudley, was already helping himself to. Uncle Vernon was sitting in his usual chair at the head of the table, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee. Aunt Petunia stood, piling more breakfast onto Dudley's plate. None of them acknowledged Harry when he walked in.
He sat down at the table and began nibbling on a muffin. "Have you had enough to eat, Duddy-kins?" Petunia asked in a sickly sweet voice.
Dudley nodded greedily, shoveling more food into his mouth. "Of course he has, Petunia." Vernon grunted, folding the newspaper down and setting it on the edge of the table. He checked the watch on his plump wrist. "We'd better get going, dear, it's nearly 10."
The Dursley's and Harry were out the door and in the car in less than two minutes, Dudley still with food in his mouth. Now, the Dursley's don't approve of magic or strangeness of any kind, but the annual drawing of the Goblet of Fire was the one exception. Ever since Voldemort (or You-Know-Who) took over the wizarding world many years ago, they've carried on the tradition of the Hogwarts Games. At the age eleven, every witch and wizard are sorted into one of the four Houses: Gryffindor (for the brave and chivalrous), Ravenclaw (for the clever and knowledge-seeking), Hufflepuff (for the fair and just), and Slytherin (for the cunning and ambitious). Harry was sorted into Gryffindor, the same House as his deceased parents.
After they are sorted, their names go into the Goblet of Fire every year. Twenty-four names are chosen and those picked will have to fight to the death on the abandoned Hogwarts grounds to achieve fame and glory for their House, while being broadcasted magically to the rest of the wizarding community.
Harry looked out the car window and watched the reluctant drops of rain roll down, as if in a race against each other. Harry's father was in the Games. He died before Harry was born.
Harry heaved a sigh as he continued tuning out the Dursley's upbeat conversation. The Durlsey's actually liked the idea of the Hogwarts Games because it meant that Harry had a chance of having to fight to his death. After his mother died when he was a toddler, he was sent to live with the Dursley's. None of them really had a say in the matter. But the idea of their… inconvenience being gone was definitely an attractive idea to them. Even though they didn't realize how much Voldemort and his followers ruled their lives too.
Finally, after what seemed more than Harry could tolerate of the Dursley's, they were in London. They dropped him off at the telephone booth, the same one he was always dropped off at. Vernon shoved a few dollars into Harry's hand and left without a word. He knew what the money was for; for finding his way back to Privet Drive if he doesn't get chosen.
Harry pushed his way into the red phone booth on the busy sidewalk and closed himself in. He dialed the number and found a familiar, cool female voice speaking to him. And the ground was slowly sinking, pulling him smoothly down a shaft to the underground building. Every year, Harry couldn't help but marvel at how none of the Muggles ever took notice.
Then he got a view of the black tile, the large stone statue of the Muggles holding up the wizards on their backs. The shaft came to an abrupt halt with a lurch. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic." The woman's voice said, the booth's doors opening to let him out. Her tone was in such deep contrast with the scene that surrounded Harry as he stepped out of the phone booth.
Wizards and witches hustled by, briefcases stiff at their sides, stern expressions on their faces. Occasional teenagers passed by too, many accompanied by family members. They were making their way over to the stone statue where the drawing would be held.
Harry checked his watch. He had several moments to spare. He followed the others to the statue. There were ribbons dividing the area into four sections; a section for each House. Harry stood in the red Gryffindor quadrant. He recognized most of the teenagers from previous years' drawings but some of the faces he saw in the crowd were brand new. Harry frowned as he noted that they must be the eleven year-olds.
Then the time had come. All the chimneys for the Floo Network dropped down bars as the green flames were extinguished. Black clad Death Eaters stood menacingly by them, looking through their masks at the crowd of nervous people.
Terror Harry knew too well crept up his spine as a round woman dressed entirely in pink stood at the podium. Her face always reminded him uncannily of a toad's. She held her wand to her short neck and cleared her throat. "Mm-hm." It came out as a high-pitched squeak.
An extremely tense silence fell upon the crowd of wizard-folk. Harry wiped his sweating palms on his jeans. "Welcome to the 24th Annual Hogwarts Games!" She smiled widely. No noise resonated from her audience. "I am Dolores Umbridge, member of the Wizengamot. Now, let's get the drawing started. Oh! And may the odds be ever in your House's favor."
She placed the Goblet of Fire on the podium, to her left, as to not obscure her toad-like face. The flames rising from the goblet's depths were blue, writhing unceasingly. Then the flames turned orange, the same shade of a normal fire and spat out a slip of paper. Harry swallowed with much difficulty. The older you are, the more slips of paper bearing your name in the goblet there are. This was Harry's fifth drawing; his name was in there five times.
Harry watched with bated breath as Umbridge scanned the piece of parchment and held her wand up with a pudgy hand to her throat. "From Ravenclaw House: Roger Davies!"
A boy stepped out of the blue quadrant and onto the stage. A woman who must be his mother began sobbing and gasping loudly into her husband's shoulder. Although Davies stood erect, his hand trembled when he reached out to shake Umbridge's hand. He looked to be in one of his last years of the drawings. He walked off the stage to meet a Death Eater who ushered him away.
The Goblet of Fire spat out another name. Umbridge placed it in her wide hands and raised her wand yet again to her throat. "Representing Gryffindor House," Harry's stomach lurched. "Ginevra Weasley!"
This time, several redheads just to the right of Harry reacted. A girl with blazing ginger hair stiffly made her way past the others and onto the stage. She was shorter than Davies was and much more fragile looking. Harry's heart sunk as he watched her shake hands with Umbridge and met the Death Eater offstage.
The Goblet of Fire turned orange again and tossed another piece of paper out. Umbridge grabbed it, not-so-gracefully, and spoke into her wand, "For Slytherin House: Blaise Zabini!"
A tall, broad-shouldered boy came to the stage. It sounded to Harry as though some people may have been quietly cheering for him. That made Harry sick. Some people thought it was an honor to fight in these Games and there were times when people even volunteered! Harry had joked once to the Dursley's about volunteering. They encouraged Harry to do so.
He decided in that moment that he would never volunteer to go through something so horrible and inhumane. I won't be a part of their Games. He thought as he watched Blaise swagger to the waiting Death-eater. Umbridge began speaking but he paid no attention. I won't be.
"Harry Potter!" Umbridge's voice rang out through the hall.