AN - I don't own Harry Potter or any of it's attached characters.
Five Champions
Chapter 1 – Let the Tournament Begin
"Colorado Academy of the Magical Arts, more commonly referred to as C.A.M.A, is one of seven magical institutes in The United States of America. Settled among the quaking aspens trees, in a town of the same name, students age eleven to eighteen study year round learning to harness and control their magical talents."
Dr. Stephens' voice carried through the heavy doors of the Great Hall in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I and seventeen others stood waiting to be introduced into the welcoming feast. Our arrival to the Castle had been late, so we hadn't had an opportunity to see any of the student body – visiting or otherwise.
Not that they would have been impressed by our entrance, we had simply Portkeyed into the town called Hogsmeade, and then carriages pulled by what I imagined must have been thestrals (not that I could see them) pulled us up to the strangely named school.
"May I present the students of C.A.M.A!" Dr. Stephens finished and all of us stood a little bit taller. I stood back, not wanting to be trampled as the doors swung open and students began to shove their way in.
"Well, there goes any chance of looking like a dignified student body." I muttered to myself. I quickly looked around, hoping none of my colleagues had heard me, to see that everyone else had already filed into the Hall and were claiming what few seats remained. Any thoughts of dignity vanished as I rushed after them, tripping on my robes. I smashed headlong into the stone floor, my knees burning from the impact and red lines of blood began to form on my now scraped palms.
Dr. Stephens spoke over the snickers as I scrambled to right myself, "Take your seat Mr. Isolde." I frantically searched for a seat, yearning to quickly find a place so I could be out from under the scrutiny of my peers.
"With haste, Mr. Isolde!"
A whimper left my lips, and I silently pleaded for someone, anyone, to point out an empty seat. My eyes began to cloud with tears, and the familiar heat of a blush bloomed across my throat and on the tips of my ears.
Just as Dr. Stephens was about to bark at me again, the man seated at the head table with snowy white hair and a beard to match, wearing puce robes, and half-moon spectacles spoke. "Joshua, please excuse my poor planning but it seems we've run out of room. Mr. Isolde, was it? If you'd be so kind as to join us here at the head table, there is an open seat by Professor Hagrid I believe."
As the aforementioned Professor rose to make himself known, another round of snickers graced the Hall. Directed towards me, or the fact that the professors rising caused the entire head table to practically tip over, I didn't know. I had, had enough and I practically flew to my seat and sunk down into the chair.
Dumbledore (the bearded man) rose and a silenced settled over the Great Hall. "Good evening, ladies and gentleman, ghosts, and – most particularly – guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will both be comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourself at home."
He sat down, and the golden plates in front of everyone filled with food. I looked around as students began to fill their individual plates.
"Yer hands alright?"
Professor Hagrid was massive and his voice, though booming, was gentler than I would've expected. "You took quite a spill there."
"Yeah," I began, blushing once again, "I'm not really use to this European robes. They're longer than we have back in the states."
"You should let Madame Pomfrey take a look – don't wan' yer hands getting infected do ye?"
Before I could even responded he had already flagged down the medi-witch who, with two flicks of her wand, had my hands cleaned and bandage bound.
"That's better don' ya think? The name's Rubeus Hagrid, Professor in Care of Magical Creatures – and keeper of Keys and Grounds."
"Greyson Isolde, 9th grader… er fourth year, Majoring in Curse Making."
Talking with Hagrid was honestly the most natural and enjoyable conversation I'd ever had. I was beyond disappointed that his tales of working with some creature called a Blast-Ended Skrewt had to be cut short – but with a promise of tea and the rest of the story at a later date, we both turned to the once again standing headmaster.
"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament… I'm sorry Four wizard tournament" he corrected with a smile towards Dr. Stephens "is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation as we bring the casket in. Mr. Filch, if you would.
"As you know, three" He chuckled, "Pardon me, Four, champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after the third task will win the Cup."
Dumbledore tapped the top of the casket which had been brought to the front as he had been talking. The casket melted away to reveal an unassuming wooden goblet. The only real interest to it was the blue flames that danced along the brim.
"To ensure that no underage student feels too tempted, I will be drawing an age line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. All students from Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbaton must be seventeen to cross the line. Any student from C.A.M.A who has completed, with their guardians mind you, the necessary permission slips may participate."
Grumbles of disbelief and moans of 'unfair' passed around the Hall, while any C.A.M.A student seated next to another shared high fives. Dumbledore continued on of the dangers of participation, but I had tuned him out. Every student from the U.S., all eighteen of us, had plans to enter. In order to be eligible to even go on the trip here you had to present the forms of Eligibility. Chances of me being chosen were slim, I knew that. But my mother had practically threatened me to enter. Her words echoed in my head.
"Of course, you'll be chosen, and of course you'll win. Because if you aren't it means you weren't strong enough… and if that's the case…
"I don't know why you'd even bother coming home."
FC
AN - This will be a Viktor/OC (Greyson Isolde)/Harry Potter story, I'm not quite sure how that'll all work - but I really want this story to take off.
a run down on Greyson (for those of you who yearn for a description NOW even if it will come later.)
Age - 14 (Fifteen in november (This story begins on October 30th)
Height - 5'3"
Build - Slim with light muscle from Dueling Club. His skin is pale with raspberry colored lips
Hair - Shaved Close on the side with a long top that hangs close to covering his right eyes ending about mid cheek. Jet Black.
Eyes - Ice blue with flecks of silver and grey.