The rain was pounding the windows violently.

The Hogwarts Express had been trekking along for a vast majority of the day. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat comfortably in their compartments discussing events that had taken place over the summer - namely, the Quidditch World Cup and the events that had followed. Namely, the Dark Mark, the mark of Voldemort, appearing in the sky after a muggle family had been tortured and subjected to the Cruciatus Curse in front of the wizards camping just a ways off from the stadium.

"I've got to hand it to the Wizarding World," spoke Ron aimlessly.

"Ever since the day I got the letter, my life has been way more exciting than being stuck at the stupid burrow. Plus, look at all our previous summers. Me and Harry flew to Hogwarts in dad's car in our second year, then Harry blew up his aunt last year… and now, the Dark Mark has appeared again! That's not even to mention what happens during the school years,"

At this remark, Hermione spoke up with an earnest disdain in her tone. "Ron, that's not something to look fondly on. You saw what happened at the Quidditch World Cup! That was far too dangerous… even for us. There's some things you just have to take seriously… like seeing his mark."

Ron scoffed at this time and picked up a custard cream he had purchased from the Trolley Witch who offered an array of snacks at any time throughout the journey to Hogwarts. He threw the snack into his mouth and spoke in a lazy tone, "Yeah, but, all I can remember is the match, Hermione! Krum just knows how to handle a broomstick like no one else. Don't you agree, Harry?"

Harry hadn't been listening in too hard. His mind had been preoccupied with the more pressing matter of what everyone had been alluring to what was going to happen this year at Hogwarts. "Huh…? Oh, yeah, Krum is amazing. It was fun to watch, that's for sure."

Despite the fact he had been rooting for Ireland, he couldn't help but show the utmost of admiration for Viktor Krum's skills on a broomstick. Harry had been fantasizing about it himself - to be flying in a ginormous stadium, full of people chanting his name, screaming at the top of their lungs at the thought him catching the snitch that ended the game and made his team win by a landslide.

This was all but a mere fascination for now. He was only about to begin his 4th year at Hogwarts, so he still had plenty of time to hone his skills in flying and become a cleaner, smarter and stronger player on the field. It was the area of magic he was naturally adept at, and he couldn't be more happier about this. The cherry on top was finding out his father, James Potter, was also a respected and honoured Quidditch player during his time at Hogwarts.

Hermione simply shook her head in disbelief at Ron's disregard for the fact that the most evil dark wizard of all time could be coming back, or perhaps something even unthinkable. "I mean, seriously, Ronald. Will you ever get your head out of the clouds and join the rest of us down here on earth?" The freckled face stretched out to a grin as Ron said, "Maybe one day, Hermione. Till then, I'll be up here appreciating the god of Quidditch that is Viktor."

Harry couldn't help but crack a smirk at the other's response to her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a small smile purse Hermione's lips behind her hands now covering her mouth.

"We should be arriving soon, I think. Let's get changed into our robes so we're ready once the Hogwarts Express pulls up. I think we'll be there soon," recommended Hermione. The two boys nodded in agreement and they all changed.

—

As the trio arrived back at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, their very first night was one they would recall excitedly for the following month and just over a half. It had been announced by Professor Dumbledore that for the first time in an extremely long time, the international wizarding tournament known as the Triwizard Tournament, in which three schools would pick a champion from each and they would compete in three tasks to find one to be crowned the winner.

However, in the past, the competition had been riddled with countless deaths of innocent, young champions so for the resurrection of the tournament, a strict rule was imposed - an age limit. Only students of seventeen or over would be able to submit their name to be considered for the tournament. Many of the students were outraged by this revelation, but a fair few, some like Hermione were satisfied by this and thought it wise and was hopeful it would stop deaths in the competition completely.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had overheard Fred, George and Lee planning to hoodwink the judging committee or whatever it would be that chose the Triwizard champion for Hogwarts into believing they were of the legal age to compete. Hermione was vocal in her attempts to tell them that this would be an impossible feat, simply because Dumbledore knew how old all three of them were. They brushed her off with not much care or regard to her words.

As the term began and slowly began to move into the start of the school year, the trio had realised how much the work had been amped this year - the teachers were not hesitant in reminding the fourth years that this was their final year before they began their O.W.L's, otherwise known as Ordinary Wizarding Levels and that they would need all the help they could get for this year. Professor McGonagall, in particular, was vocal in the extreme difficulties of their upcoming exams in the next few exams and she would accept only the best of the best into her future classes. To their detriment, this stressed Hermione out more than the rest of the class which was a bad sign, since it was common knowledge was the smartest student in fourth year and no one would be surprised if her intelligence surpassed those even older than her.

Harry had been drawn to something in particular, however - their new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Mad-Eye Moody. In their very first lesson with him, he was adamant in showing the class what they're up against and how to prepare them for the very worst. He had demonstrated the three Unforgivable curses on animals. He had also uncomfortably pointed out that he, Harry, was the only one to ever survive the fatal killing curse. Harry wasn't a fan of being known for the simple reason of he didn't die along with his mother and father. It was rather unnerving when people brought it up most of the time, especially after his encounter with dementors from the previous year.

In late October, signs had been put up in the Great Hall signifying that the chosen applicants from the other wizarding schools known as Beauxbaton and Durmstrang would be arriving only days before Halloween. This had the school in a frenzy, as a lot of the students were excited to meet the students from these schools who would be trying their hand in the Triwizard Tournament.

On the day of their arrival, Professor Dumbledore had had the entire school arrange themselves in the grounds and welcomed them gracefully to the grounds and castle. Durmstrang had arrived by a boat that had sprung up from the Giant Squid's lake and had pulled up on the shore just ways away from Hagrid's hut.

The Beauxbaton students had been brought by chariot, however. Once they had arrived, Hagrid was all but eager to maintain the wellbeing of the horses that had carried the Beauxbaton's all this way. The headmasters of Durmstrang and Beauxbaton were known as Igor Karkaroff and Olympe Maxime, otherwise known as Madame Maxime respectfully.

However, the real thing everyone was focused on was the fact famous Quidditch player, Viktor Krum, had arrived with the Durmstrang students. Everyone was in disbelief he'd be applying for the tournament alongside the rest. Rumours circled immediately he'd be chosen due to his fame and his recent catching of the snitch at the World Cup. Not that anyone else from the Durmstrang students showed any signs of agreeing or refuting this; they were a quite bunch, it seemed.

Everyone had made their way into the Great Hall and sat in their respectful house tables. As the two other schools made their way into the Hall, Karkaroff and Maxime could be seen making their way up to empty chairs on either side of Dumbledore. Durmstrang students had saddled up at the Slytherin table; Harry had noticed that Draco Malfoy was trying to engage Viktor Krum in conversation, which irked him slightly.

The Beauxbaton girls, on the other hand, had gracefully sat at the ends of the Ravenclaw table, chattering amongst themselves until the time for Dumbledore to speak had came - this way the sway Dumbledore had over people. Even these people, who probably knew very little of him, would silence in his presence. He had that sheer sense of commanding presence. Harry always respected the way Dumbledore carried himself.

Dumbledore had unveiled the way the students would enter themselves into the tournament - there was a goblet sitting on the stool that would normally hold the Sorting Hat. It was appropriately named the 'Goblet of Fire' as it had a bright blue flame burning endlessly at the top of it. Dumbledore had specified all you would have to do is throw a bit of parchment with your name and school on it and you would be considered for the tournament.

To protect it from people who were too young to enter, he had drawn a magical golden line with his wand that acted as an age barrier. It could tell who was too young for the tournament and eject them from it instantaneously. However, a few seats away from him, Harry was almost certain he heard the voice of either Fred or George mutter 'age potion' under their breath. Harry pondered over this before putting his attention on Dumbledore again.

Dumbledore had informed them it would be in the middle of the Entrance Hall for anyone to submit their name for the next three days as they wish, but to think wisely before submitting as the Triwizard Tournament had a tormentous ordeal of hurdles to overcome before you could even contemplate being the winner of it.

With that said, Dumbledore had finished. The golden, marble doors that connected the Entrance Hall and Great Hall swung open and the Goblet and the stool flew overhead and situated themselves dead perfect in the centre of the room.

"That will be all. Goodnight, everyone." finished Dumbledore, standing down.

In moments, the students of Hogwarts noticed that every student from the two other schools were submitting their names as they spoke. To Harry's knowledge, he hadn't seen anyone from Hogwarts enter their name, but he could merit a guess as to why this was - they were probably a bit too embarrassed to do it around the entire school and their guests. Harry stared longingly at the Goblet's beautiful bluebell flames lighting the room in a pleasing manner, before descending to the Grand Staircase and making his way to the Gryffindor common room.

As the days passed, Harry had heard rumours of many Hogwarts students submitting their name. The name that travelled the school like wildfire was Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff. Harry could recollect Cedric with ease as he had beaten Harry in a Quidditch game the previous year, and he had met with him and his father Amos Diggory on the way to the Quidditch World Cup. Unfortunately, meeting his father wasn't a memory Harry enjoyed recollecting.

Harry had also heard Angelina Johnson submitted herself to which he had the utmost of pleasure. She had been one of the only remaining Gryffindor Quidditch team members remaining from the very first year he started and he felt personally honoured that she could have a chance to not only represent Gryffindor, but the school as a whole. Word had spread fast about the conquests of Fred and George trying to smuggle their name into the goblet as well.

Both twins had made an aging potion that did not fool the aging line and caused them to spontaneously grow white hair and a floor length beard, the same as Dumbledore's. This caused everyone who witnessed the scene laughs aplenty. All except for Hermione who had repeatedly muttered, "I told you so…"

—

The night of the champion choosing ceremony had arrived. The castle was in tense spirits as talk was running amok about who would be the champion for each school. The only that seemed certain to everyone was that Viktor Krum would be the champion for Durmstrang. Hermione didn't have trouble pointing out the goblet wasn't objective in who it is choose, but that it was completely random. Sadly, no one gave her a moment's notice to contemplate the validity of that statement.

Everyone had gathered in the Great Hall and were waiting in murmured anticipation for the results of who the champions were going to be. Harry was praying that Angelina was chosen as Hogwarts' champion, since he would know someone amazing would be playing for them.

After a very fast paced dinner, Dumbledore stood at the front of the room, with the Goblet moved back to where he originally showed everyone it. He spoke in a loud voice.

"This… is the Goblet of Fire. If your name is pulled from this Goblet, you are under a binding magical contract to see this through to the end. There's no turning back - you must compete. With that, I wish good luck to all the champions I am about to reveal just now. If I call your name, you would please make your way along the staff table and into the Records Room behind us." He cast a glance at a tiny door off to the side of hall.

"Now, let us begin."

Dumbledore drew a hand and hovered it above the goblet. Within seconds, a piece of parchment burst from the goblet and drifted lazily into Dumbledore's hand.

With a booming voice, Dumbledore called out, "Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbaton!"

With a resounding applause, Fleur, a moderately tall girl with platinum blonde hair made her way along the side of the hall and slipped into the Records Room. It took a tiny while for the clapping to die down.

Then, the process repeated. Dumbledore averted his gaze into the froth of the flames as they rose higher than usual and then, a burst of old brown parchment fluttered down and Dumbledore clutched it in his hands and bellowed, "Viktor Krum of Durmstrang!"

The noise was tumultuous - the clapping, whistling and shouting was overwhelming even after Viktor had disappeared into the Records Room. After 5 minutes or so, the last of the applause had finally died down and Dumbledore could move onto the Hogwarts champion.

The room was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop - Dumbledore's lips could be seen trembling as he, along with everyone else, waited eagerly for the champion to be revealed to them. After seconds, the bluebell flames erupted and another parchment came hailing down and curling itself in Dumbledore's hands.

The earth stopped as Dumbledore cried out, "Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts!"

The cheers, cries, screams of the Hufflepuff table could have been heard from eons away. Even the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables were overjoyed for Cedric. Harry was clapping hard and even bellowed a few "Go Cedric!"'s in order to show his support. He was happy that Hufflepuff got some recognition and he knew Cedric had the magical capability to hold his own, so he was very excited for him. Somewhere, in the pits of his stomach however, he felt a little resentment for not being picked.

As Cedric made his way into the Records Room and the room became silent once more, Dumbledore began talking to the room at large.

"Well now, well now! Our three champions have been chosen. Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbaton, Mister Viktor Krum of Durmstrang and Mister Cedric Diggory of Hogwarts of the Hufflepuff house. These are your champions, and we hope you all will do what you can to support each and everyone through the trials and tribulations they will surely face at the hands of the Triwi-..."

Dumbledore's speech had been cut short. Everyone in the room could see it. The Goblet of Fire's flames were dancing rapidly, spinning and the brightest bluebell flame thus far had dancingly descended upon them and revealed another bit of parchment. Dumbledore's hand shook as he clutched onto it and the reaction on his features were all anyone needed to know.

"Harry Potter…?"

Suddenly, Harry heard chairs squeak and grind against the marble floor as pretty much every eye in the room turned to focus on him. He did not get up from his seat. He just stared wildly from Ron, to Hermione, then to Dumbledore. There was no applause this time.

"Harry Potter!"

Hermione had nudged Harry on the arm and shoved him so he would be forced to stand up. Harry swallowed nervously and turned back to look at his two best friends as he did the walk of shame in the Great Hall. He walked right up to Dumbledore, but no words were uttered between the pair. Dumbledore turned his head to the door and Harry need not be told anymore, as he headed there, not daring to look back again as the entire school looked at him in utter disbelief.

As he entered the Records Room, he heard shouts behind him. "He's not even 17!"

"This isn't fair!" "Why weren't we given an opportunity?" and other condescending remarks Harry immediately tried to block out of his mind.

Harry descended the stone steps into the Records Room where he found the other champions being dead quiet and all looking at various trophies. Cedric spoke nonchalantly, "Oh, are they looking us to come back?" Harry could not even meet his eyes. He just kept his gaze fixated on his shoes on the floor.

A few moments later, he heard a crash, almost as if a stampede of elephants had arrived on the scene. It was a frenzy. The teachers, and the Ministry of Magic representatives involved with the Triwizard Tournament arrangements had argued for ages on whether or not Harry should be allowed to compete. After various back and forths, snide remarks and confused glances from the champions to each other, a decision was reached.

"Harry... you didn't put your name in that Goblet of Fire, did you? You didn't ask an older student to do it for you?" rasped Professor Dumbledore.

"No… no, sir."

"It seems, no matter who put your name into the goblet, Harry, I am afraid you are now legally contracted to participate in the tournament."

Karkaroff's and Maxime's reactions to this development were outrageous. They were sickened by the fact Hogwarts had two champions and they could not have two. They had swore that no matter what happened, they would not come back to Hogwarts in regards to this contest again and were extremely vocal in the presence of Harry about their vehement dislike for this sudden bending of the rules, when the Ministry of Magic representatives would not allow the two to pick another student from their schools.

The champions had been informed they would be given more directions later on in the week. Karkaroff had stormed out of the room desperate to get away from this scene, with an obvious distaste for the current situation. Viktor Krum did not move, however. As the teachers and two other champions cleared off, alongside the Ministry of Magic representatives, it was only the two of them left in the Records Room.

Harry was about to follow the rest and make his way back up the stone steps when he felt a hand grip his shoulder. A thick accent and Harry could only estimate it belonged to the only other person in the room with him at the very moment. He could just barely make out the words, "Excuse me for asking, but would you happen to be called Harry Potter? I have heard of you before. Heard about how you have been through many things. I learn that you once flew here to school in a car?"

Harry was gobsmacked and didn't know what to say. The famous, legendary seeker Viktor Krum, was here, stopping him for a conversation and asking him about the escapades he had gotten up to in the past. A minute or so passed and he felt extremely awkward as he had yet to reply to the other. Viktor was about to speak up when Harry blurted out, "Yeah, that was me... I couldn't get on the train to Hogwarts, so I had to look for a different way to get here and... a flying car was the easiest."

A grin pursed itself on Viktor's lips as he seemed to envision this inside his head. Harry was dumbfounded by what was going on around him. First, he had been submitted to this dangerous tournament meant for wizards who were of legal age and now the famous Viktor Krum was here talking to him. If he wasn't completely sure he was awake and this was happening, he would have done everything in his power to try and wake himself up from this weird, wild dream. He would even believe that Fred and George had slipped something into his dinner Pumpkin Juice that caused the wildest of dreams to happen when you were asleep - but the way he felt about the entire situation was definitely real. This was happening and he was just wondering why this was happening.

"That sounds... pretty funny." Viktor spoke, slowly. "I apologise if you cannot understand me because of my voice. I cannot help it, you see," Harry jumped and began waving his hands and shaking his head, speaking in a rather laid back tone. "No! You're fine... honestly. I'm just in shock. You're Viktor Krum. I saw you this year at the Quidditch World Cup. You were amazing to watch. I was at the highest part of the stadium. You did stuff on a broom that I wouldn't even think imaginable."

To this, Harry noticed Viktor's head leaned over to the side a little out of obvious embarrassment. It seems complimenting his flying skills was the way to go. "I... well, thank you. That's very kind. A lot of my pride is in my capability to fly. I don't have my Firebolt with me. Karkaroff said I could not bring it as I would not need it for the tournament."

Harry plunged at the opportunity. "I have a Firebolt! I got it just last year. Since we're both champions and such and this whole thing is about interpersonal magical friendships or something..." he had a feeling that if Hermione had heard him right now, she would have slapped him for getting every single thing she had told him wrong. At least he thought it was wrong. To his relief, however, the grin that was on Viktor's face stayed as he turned towards the stone steps and let out a cool, "I... would like that, Harry. I'm sure you have classes tomorrow, so please come and find me in your school's library when you are free. Don't disappoint me."

And without looking back, Viktor waved a hand goodbye and proceeded up the stone steps.

Harry stood in disbelief and shock, unable to do anything in his stupor.