As we all filed back into school for the welcoming feast, everyone was whispering.
"Look, it's him!"
"Viktor, Viktor Krum! I didn't know he was still in school…"
"He's an amazing Quidditch player … do you think he'll sign my hat?"
I pushed around the latter group of girls, heading in. The Beauxbatons lot were already seated at Ravenclaw table, as I made my way over to Harry, Ron and Hermione the Durmstrang students sat at Slytherin. Draco was talking to Viktor Krum, and gave me a smug smile as I sat.
When all the students had entered, the teachers began to file in, taking their seats at the head table. Professor Dumbledore, Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff were last, and the Beauxbatons students stood respectfully for their Headmistress, remaining so until she was seated. Our own Headmaster remained standing until there was silence in the Hall.
"Good evening, ladies and gentleman, ghosts, and most particularly, guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you to Hogwarts. I hope your stay here will be most enjoyable. Thee Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast, so for now, dig in!"
There were more dishes than normal tonight, including several that were clearly foreign. I stuck to my normal small helping of food.
"Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" A girl from Beauxbatons stood near us, eyeing the closest foreign dish. She had long silvery hair, and deep blue eyes. I saw Ron go purple, and felt pretty purple myself. Did all the foreign girls look like that?
"You can have it." Harry replied, sounding pretty normal, thankfully. He pushed the dish towards her.
"You 'ave finished wiz it?"
"Yeah." Ron breathed, finding his voice again. "Yeah, it was excellent." He continued to ogle the girl as she walked back to Ravenclaw with the dish. Harry laughed, as Hermione bristled.
"They don't make them like that at Hogwarts." Ron continued, obliviously.
After the feast finished, and the plates were wiped clean, Professor Dumbledore stood again. A buzz of excitement hung in the air, the same buzz I'd been feeling all week.
"The moment has come, and the Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I'd like to say a few words of explanation first, before we bring in the casket, to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year. But firstly let me introduce Mr Bartemius Crouch, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
Applause filled the hall, quiet for Mr Crouch, and louder for Mr Bagman, who acknowledged it with a wave of his hand., and they will
"Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch have worked for months to organise the Tournament and will be joining myself, Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff on the panel of judges. The casket then, if you please Mr Filch."
The caretaker, previously lurking in the corner, approached Dumbledore, carrying a large wooden chest, encrusted with jewels. It appeared very old, and necks craned all over the Hall to see it better.
"The arrangements for the tasks the champions must accomplish have already been seen to by Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch. As you know, there will be three tasks spread evenly throughout the school year, and each task will test the champions in many ways. They will be tested on their magical prowess, their daring, their powers of deduction and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.
"Three students will be participating in the Tournament. One champion from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform the tasks, and the champion with the highest amount of marks will receive the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector … the Goblet of Fire!" Professor Dumbledore tapped his wand three times upon the lid of the chest, reaching in as the lid creaked open. He drew out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. Unremarkable except for the fact it was filled with writhing blue flames. Clearly, it lived up to it's name.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as school champion needs merely put their name into the Goblet. They will have twenty-four hours in which to do so, as the champions will be drawn tomorrow night after the Halloween feast. It will be placed in the Entrance Hall so all have access to it. Also, to avoid younger students submitting their names, I will be drawing an age line around it. Nobody under the age of seventeen may cross and enter.
"Of entering, I caution that you do not put your name in lightly. Once a champion has been selected, he or she is obliged to see the Tournament through to the very end. There can be no change of heart once the champions are selected. Now, I bid goodnight to you all."
Saturday gave us plenty of free time the next day, and many people hovered around the Entrance Hall, watching who submitted their names or following the foreign students around. Not to sound like Hermione, but I spent the day doing something useful; the mounds of homework our teachers had piled upon us. Unfortunately, even in the library it was hard to concentrate, as people everywhere were talking about the upcoming selection of champions. Eventually I gave up, dropping my books off at my dorm and heading downstairs. By the time the evening rolled around, the school was so tense it seemed it were going to snap. The feast seemed to drag, and barely anyone touched his or her food, glancing every few minutes at Professor Dumbledore. Eventually the plates cleared, and the Headmaster stood. The sudden silence was profound.
"The Goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate one more minute. Meanwhile, I'll give a last instruction. When the champions names are called I would ask that you please come to the top of the hall and proceed through to the next chamber," he gestured at a door behind the head table, "Where you will be given your first instructions."
Following this, Professor Dumbledore extinguished most of the candles in the room, plunging everyone into semi-darkness, the Goblets' blue-white fire almost painful to look at.
"Any second …" I heard Lee Jordan whisper.
Suddenly, the flames in the cup turned red, flaring high into the Hall, sparks flying like fireworks at the selection of the first champion. As the spout of fire died, a charred bit of paper fell, to be caught by Dumbledore and unfolded. As the fire returned to it's blue-white colour, the Headmaster held out the paper.
"The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum." He read in a clear voice. A storm of applause spread through the Hall, as the Quidditch, and now school champion, stood and walked through the Hall. The clapping died down as the Goblet once again flared red. A bit of paper fell, and once again, the students held their breaths.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," Professor Dumbledore read out. "Will be Fleur Delacour!"
Applause shook the Hall again as the girl with the silvery hair made her way towards the high table, proceeding through the door. Some of the other Beauxbatons students were sobbing, obviously distraught at not becoming school champion. I didn't see why, exactly, you'd want to volunteer.
As once again the Goblet flared, the tension rose in the Hall. Hogwarts was next.
Professor Dumbledore reached up, plucking the scorched paper out of the air, appearing to take an age to unfold it. "The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"
Hufflepuff leaped to their feet, screaming and cheering for the school champion, their champion. Cedric, another Quidditch player I remembered, made his way through the Hall, grinning wildly. I relaxed, a grin spreading my face too. Why was I worried? With the age limit, it wasn't as if any of my friends could enter the Tournament. None of them would be hurt, and I could relax. I leaned back in my seat, feeling as if I was floating again, a burden being lifted from my shoulder. I looked up staring at the clear, pristine night sky. I heard a gasp, though, and sighed. I think I worry too much, but what could go wrong now? All three champions were selected. But as I looked, Professor Dumbledore unfolded a fourth piece of paper, staring at it for an unseemly long time.
"Harry Potter." He finally called.
And the well-known sinking feeling was back.
