Chapter 12: Chat with Dumbledore and Champions

"I don't believe it!" Ron said, in a stunned voice, as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. "Krum, Claire, Harry! Viktor Krum!"

"We get it, Ron," Claire said annoyed. Ron had been repeating the same thing for the past two minutes.

"I can't believe Viktor Krum is here at Hogwarts!" Ron said, still in disbelief.

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," Hermione said.

It was as though Hermione had physically slapped him across the face.

"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron said. "Hermione—he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

As they entered the entrance hall with the rest of the Hogwarts students heading for the Great Hall, they saw Lee Jordan jumping up and down on the soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of Krum's head. Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked—

"Oh I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me—"

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

"Really," Hermione said loftily as they passed the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick.

"I'm getting his autograph if I can," Ron said.

"Are you gonna ask him to sign in lipstick too?" Claire teased him.

Ron glared at Claire before asking Harry if he had a quill.

"Nope, they're upstairs in my bag," Harry said.

"What about you Claire, Hermione?" Ron asked them.

"I think I might have some lipstick," Hermione said teasingly.

"A simple no would've suffice," Ron said.

They followed the rest of the students into the Great Hall. Just as they entered the Great Hall, someone bumped into Claire, almost knocking her down to the ground. The person kept Claire from falling.

"Sorry." Claire and the person said in unison.

Claire looked up to see a familiar face. She was shocked. "Jeremy?"

It was Jeremy Anwir from the Muggle Music shop. He wore the same shocked expression. Claire took note of his clothing. He was wearing the same furs as the rest of the Durmstrang students.

"I didn't know you were a wizard," Claire said.

"Yeah, I wouldn't expect you too. My parents are pureblood, but my mom is interested in muggle music and decided to open the shop. I go to Durmstrang Institute. You go here to Hogwarts, don't you?" Jeremy asked.

Claire nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, it was nice seeing you again, Claire. I'll see you around." Jeremy said.

"See you around." Claire waved goodbye to him as he joined the other Durmstrang boys who were smirking at them.

When Jeremy was gone, Claire noticed that Harry, Hermione, and Ron were already seated at Gryffindor table. She walked over to them and sat down on Ron's left, across from Harry.

"Thanks for waiting for me," Claire said sarcastically.

"Did you get lost in the crowd?" Hermione asked.

"No, I ran into someone, literally," Claire said.

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Jeremy Anwir. He's from the muggle music store I took you guys this summer. He goes to Durmstrang Institute." Claire replied.

Claire noticed Harry's expression change to something she couldn't recognize. Claire was about to ask Harry if he was ok when Ron began to scoot closer to Claire.

"Um, Ron, what are you doing?" Claire raised her eyebrow.

"Making room for Viktor and his friends. C'mon, before they decide to sit somewhere else!" Ron said.

"Too late," Hermione said motioning towards the Slytherin table.

The Durmstrang students began to sit at the Slytherin table. They could see Viktor and Jeremy were sitting near Malfoy and his gang. Malfoy wore a smug look and Claire saw Ron clench his fists. Claire rolled her eyes and then she noticed Jason glaring at Jeremy; Jeremy returning the glare. Wonder what's up with that? Claire thought to herself.

"Look at that," Ron said bitterly.

Claire looked where Ron was looking to see Malfoy bending forward to speak to Krum.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," Ron said scathingly. "I bet Krum can see right through him, though...bet he gets people fawning over him all the time...Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry...I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."

Hermione snorted.

"They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot," Harry said, glancing at the Ravenclaw table.

The Beauxbatons were looking around the Great Hall with a similar expression Mrs. Malfoy did when she looked at Hermione. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

"It's not that cold," Hermione said defensively. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?"

"They probably thought they weren't 'fashionable'," Claire made air quotes around fashionable. "They look like a bunch of stuck-up Malfoy clones."

"I disagree. They're actually attractive," Ron said, staring dreamily at one particular girl with a muffler around her head. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts."

"Gee, thanks, Ronald," Hermione deadpanned.

"I think they make them alright here," Harry said, glancing quickly at Claire. Hermione caught this glance and smirked. Ron also noticed this too and became suspicious of Harry. Ron was about to question Harry before Hermione spoke up.

"It looks like Filch is adding chairs to the staff table," Hermione said, looking at the staff table. "Why is he adding four chairs when there are only two extra people? Who else could be coming?"

"Eh?" Ron said vaguely. He had gone back to staring avidly at Krum.

The empty chairs at the staff table slowly began to fill up. The last ones to enter the hall were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—guests," Dumbledore said, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh. It was the same girl Ron had been staring at earlier.

"No one's making you stay!" Hermione whispered, bristling at her.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Dumbledore said. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and Karkaroff leaned forward at once and engaged him in conversation.

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than they had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

"What's that?" Ron said, pointing at the large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," Hermione said.

"Bless you," Ron said.

"It's French," Hermione said, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," Ron said, helping himself to black pudding.

Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Harry, Claire, Ron, and Hermione with a very heavily bandaged hand.

"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called.

"Thrivin'," Hagrid called back happily.

"Yeah, I'll just bet they are," Ron said quietly. "Looks like they finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers."

At that moment, a voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth.

Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.

"Yeah, have it," Harry said, pushing the dish toward the girl.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."

The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Harry and Claire shared a look before starting to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.

"She's a veela!" he said hoarsely to Claire and Harry.

"Of course she isn't!" Hermione said tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"

"Hermione, you should probably get your eyes checked," Claire said, motioning to the other boys who turned their heads as the blonde girl walked by them, leaving them temporarily speechless, just like Ron.

"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" Ron said, looking sideways so he could keep a clear view of her.

Harry looked towards the Ravenclaw table to see the blonde girl sitting next to Cho. Cho glanced at Harry and sent him a smile. Claire noticed this exchange and felt an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach causing her to frown.

"When you've both put your eyes back in," Hermione said briskly to the boys, "you'll be able to see who's just arrived."

She was pointing up at the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime. Claire noticed Mr. Crouch sent her father a glare, while her father seemed oblivious to it. Claire wondered why Crouch was glaring at her father.

"What are they doing here?" Harry said in surprise.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" Hermione said. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

When the second course arrived they noticed a number of unfamiliar desserts too. Ron examined an odd sort of pale blancmange closely, then moved it carefully a few inches to his right, so that it would be clearly visible from the Ravenclaw table. The girl who looked like a veela appeared to have eaten enough, however, and did not come over to get it.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant tension filled the Hall. Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.

"The moment has come," Dumbledore said. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket—"

"The what?" Harry muttered.

Ron shrugged.

"—just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation"—there was a round of polite applause— "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. He seemed to have a stern look permanently etched on his face.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; some of the first years tried standing on their chairs to get a better look at what Filch was holding.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," Dumbledore said as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways...their magical prowess—their daring—their powers of deduction—and, of course, their ability to cope with danger. As you know, three 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 task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," Dumbledore said. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross the line. Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

"An Age Line!" Fred said, his eyes glinting, as they all made their way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance hall. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing—it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," Hermione said, "we just haven't learned enough..."

"Speak for yourself," George said shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Claire, Harry?"

"No thanks. As thrilling as it sounds to put my life at risk for a stack of galleons, I think I'll stick to living. Don't you agree Harry?" Claire said, but then she caught the look on Harry's face. "You're not actually considering it, are you?"

"Where is he?" Ron said, who wasn't listening to a word of their conversation, but looking through the crowd to see what had become of Krum. "Dumbledore didn't say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?"

"Ron, you're starting to sound like you're stalking the guy," Claire said.

Ron ignored Claire, still searching for any signs of Krum. They soon spotted Karkaroff with his students.

"Back to the ship, then," he was saying, "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

They saw Krum shake his head as he pulled his furs back on.

"Professor, I vood like some vine," said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.

"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," Karkaroff snapped. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy—"

Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the doors, reaching them at exactly the same moment as Harry, Claire, Ron, and Hermione. Harry stopped to let him walk through first.

"Thank you," Karkaroff said carelessly, glancing at him.

And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to Harry and stared at him as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up Harry's face and fixed upon his scar. The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at Harry too. Claire sense Harry was uncomfortable with the stares.

"You know, it's rude to stare," Claire said.

Her voice captured the attention of Karkaroff and his students.

"Who are you?" Karkaroff sneered.

"Claire Smith." Claire said.

"Ah, yes. Daughter of Carina Black and John Smith and niece to the notorious murderer Sirius Black," Karkaroff said.

"My uncle did not kill anyone. If you didn't hear he was cleared of all charges," Claire replied hotly.

"Yet he's on house arrest? He should've been thrown back into Azkaban." Karkaroff said.

"Is there a problem here?" Professor Moody had made his way over to them.

Professor Karkaroff spun around to see Mad-Eye Moody. Moody was leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at Karkaroff. Claire watched as the color drained from Karkaroff's face.

"You!" he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.

"Me," Moody said grimly. "And unless you've got anything else to say to Smith and Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."

Without another word, Professor Karkaroff left with his students following him. Moody watched him until he was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face. Moody then turned to the four friends.

"You four best be heading to your common room," Moody said before limping away.

"Wonder what all that was all about," Ron said as the four of them began walking to the Gryffindor common room.


The next morning, the four friends woke up at an early time, considering it was Saturday, and walked down for breakfast. When they reached the entrance hall, they saw a crowd of people standing around the Goblet of Fire. It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that the Sorting Hat normally occupied. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle around it in every direction.

"Anyone put their name in yet?" Ron asked a third-year girl eagerly.

"All the Durmstrang lot," she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," Harry said. "I would've if it had been me...wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just bobbed you right back out again?"

Someone laughed behind Harry. Turning, he saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited.

"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Harry, Claire, Ron,and Hermione. "Just taken it."

"What?" Ron said.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains," Fred said.

"One drop each," George said, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," Lee said, grinning broadly.

"I don't think that's going to work, you know," Hermione said warningly. "I'm sure Dumbledore thought about this."

Fred, George, and Lee ignored her.

"Ready?" Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then—I'll go first—"

Harry watched, fascinated, as Fred and George pulled out a slips of parchment with their names on it.

"Am I the only one who thinks this will end terribly?" Claire said, watching as the twins stepped up to the golden line.

"No," Hermione said.

They watched as the twins stepped over the line. For a second they thought it had worked—both twins yelled in triumph and fist-pumped the air—that is until there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the circle. They landed painfully on the cold stone floor and the both of them began to sprout identical long white beards.

The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Fred and George set off for the hospital, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter, and Harry, Claire, Ron, and Hermione, also chortling, went in to breakfast.

As they entered the Great Hall, they saw it had been decorated with its normal halloween decorations. Carved pumpkins floated through the air and live bats fluttered around the enchanted ceiling. Harry led the way over to Dean and Seamus, who were discussing who would be entering the tournament.

"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," Dean told Harry. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth."

Harry, who had played Quidditch against Warrington, shook his head in disgust.

"We can't have a Slytherin champion!"

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory," Seamus said contemptuously. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."

"At least he has good looks," Claire retorted, glaring at Seamus.

"Listen!" Hermione said suddenly.

People were cheering out in the entrance hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. Angelina came over to them, sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"You're kidding!" Ron said, looking impressed.

"Are you seventeen, then?" Harry asked.

"Obviously she is. Otherwise she'd be in the hospital wing with the twins." Claire said.

"I had my birthday last week," Angelina said.

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," Hermione said. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

"I hope you get it too, Angelina. You'll set an example that not all girls are afraid of breaking a nail." Claire said.

"Thanks, Claire, Hermione," Angelina said, smiling at them.

"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," Seamus said, causing several Hufflepuffs (and Claire) passing their table to scowl heavily at him.

"What're we going to do today, then?" Ron asked Harry, Claire, and Hermione when they finished eating breakfast and were leaving the Great Hall.

"We haven't been down to visit Hagrid yet," Harry said.

"Okay," Ron said, "just as long as he doesn't ask us to donate a few fingers to the skrewts."

A look of excitement suddenly dawned on Hermione's face.

"I've just realized—I haven't asked Hagrid to join S.P.E.W. yet!" she said brightly. "Wait for me, will you, while I nip upstairs and get the badges?"

"What is it with her?" Ron said, exasperated, as Hermione ran away up the marble staircase.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said suddenly. "It's your friend..."

Claire rolled her eyes at them. Suddenly, Claire remembered something. "I think I'm going to meet you three at Hagrid's."

"You're just trying to get out of Hermione trying to talk Hagrid into joining S.P.E.W., aren't you?" Ron said skeptically.

"No...well, partly, yes," Claire replied. "But I actually have something that I forgot to do."

"What?" Harry asked.

"Remember the dream?" Claire said.

Realization washed over Ron and Harry.

"You're going to visit Dumbledore," Ron said.

Claire nodded. "I'll see you later. Good luck."

Just as she walked back into the Great Hall, Professor Dumbledore was coming out.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Claire said.

"Ah, Miss Smith," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, sir, I was wondering if you had time to talk about something," Claire replied. "I think it might be urgent."

Dumbledore stared at her for a few seconds and then nodded his head.

"Very well, then," Dumbledore said. "My office?"


"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered Claire as they settled in his office.

"Sure." Claire accepted a lemon drop.

"Now, Miss Smith, what is it you wanted to talk about?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Well, you see, sir, I've been having these...dreams you could say," Claire began.

Professor Dumbledore looked curiously at her.

"What I mean is that I'm not sure if they're dreams or if they're events that actually happened," Claire elaborated.

"I see," Dumbledore nodded his head. "And what are these dreams about?"

Claire began to describe the dream she had before the Quidditch World Cup and the one she had a week ago. After she finished, Dumbledore was silent, contemplating what she had told him.

"My mother thought it'd be best to tell you. She thinks that my dreams or whatever they might be are suspicious." Claire said.

"Your mother was right in you coming to tell me this." Dumbledore replied.

"So, what should I do, sir?" Claire asked.

Dumbledore was quite for a moment. He then opened a drawer from his desk, pulled out a notebook and said, "I want you to keep a record of your dreams and come talk to me when you have them. Try to write down every little detail you can remember. I fear your dreams may not be dreams at all but visions and if that is the case the students here are in danger."

Claire looked warily at the journal remembering when she kept one in second year.

"I assure you this journal is not like the one you had in second year," Dumbledore said, reading the expression on her face.

Claire gently took the journal from him. "Professor Dumbledore, you said that you thought my dreams were visions. Does that mean I'm a Seer?"

"No," Professor Dumbledore said, shaking his head.

"Then how would I be able to see these things if I wasn't a Seer?" Claire asked.

"I think that is a question you should ask your father, Miss Smith," Professor Dumbledore replied. "Is there anything else you'd like to tell me Miss Smith?"

"No, sir," Claire said. "Thank you for your help."

"I'm glad I could have been of some assistance." Professor Dumbledore said. "And remember to write down your dreams."

"Will do, sir," Claire put the journal in her robe's pocket and left Dumbledore's office heading to Hagrid's hut.

She soon reached Hagrid's hut and knocked on the door. She heard Hagrid's voice say "Come in." and opened the door.

"Hello, Hagrid. I'm sorry I had to visit Professor Dumbledore about someth—" Claire stopped dead as she saw Hagrid.

Hagrid was wearing his best (and very horrible) hairy brown suit, plus a checked yellow-and-orange tie. There had been evidence that he had tried to tame his hair, using what looked to be axle grease. Claire looked questioningly toward Harry, Ron, and Hermione who gave her a look that read "don't ask".

"'Ello, Claire. It's al'ight. Want some beef casserole?" Hagrid asked.

Claire politely declined knowing Hagrid wasn't the best cook. She sat down at the table with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid. Hagrid poured Claire a cup of tea which she thanked him for and the five of them began talking. Their discussion soon trailed to the Triwizard Tournament. Hagrid seemed especially excited for the event.

"You wait," he said grinning. "You jus' wait. Yer going ter see some stuff yeh've never seen before. Firs' task...ah, but I'm not supposed ter say."

"Go on, Hagrid!" Harry, Claire, Ron, and Hermione urged him, but he just shook his head, grinning.

"I don' want ter spoil it fer yeh," Hagrid said. "But it's gonna be spectular, I'll tell yeh that. Them champions're going ter have their work cut out. Never thought I'd live ter see the Triwizard Tournament played again!"

A light rain started to fall by midafternoon. There was a cozy atmosphere sitting by the fire in Hagrid's hut, listening to the gentle rhythmic pattern of droplets hitting the window, watching Hagrid darning his socks and arguing with Hermione about house-elves—for he flatly refused to join S.P.E.W. when she showed him the badge.

"It'd be doin' 'em an unkindness, Hermione," he said gravely. "It's in their nature ter look after humans, that's what they like, see? Yeh'd be makin' 'em unhappy ter take away their work, an' insultin' 'em if yeh tried ter pay 'em."

"But Harry set Dobby free, and he was over the moon about it!" Hermione said. "And we heard he's asking for wages now!"

"Yeah, well, yeh get weirdos in every breed. I'm not sayin' there isn't the odd elf who'd take freedom, but yeh'll never persuade most of 'em ter do it—no, nothin' doin', Hermione."

Hermione looked very cross indeed and stuffed her box of badges back into her cloak pocket.

When it turned five o'clock the four friends decided to start heading towards the castle for the Halloween feast—and, more importantly, the announcement of the school champions.

"I'll come with yeh," Hagrid said. "Jus' give us a sec."

Hagrid got up, went across to the chest of drawers, and began searching for something inside it. They didn't pay too much attention until a very strong, horrible odor reached their nostrils. Coughing, Ron said, "Hagrid, what's that?"

"Eh?" Hagrid said, turning around with a large bottle in his hand. "Don' yeh like it?"

"Is that aftershave?" Hermione said in a slightly choked voice.

"Er-eau de cologne," Hagrid muttered. "He was blushing."

"Maybe it's a bit much," he said gruffly. "I'll go take it off, hang on..."

He stumped out of the cabin, and they saw him washing himself vigorously in the water barrel outside the window.

"Eau de cologne?" Hermione said in amazement.

"And what's with the hair and the suit?" Harry said in an undertone.

"What's going on with Hagrid?" Claire said.

"Look!" Ron said suddenly, pointing out the window.

Hagrid had just straightened up and turned 'round. If he had been blushing before, it was nothing compared to what he was doing now. The four friends peered through the window to see Hagrid talking to Madame Maxime with a misty-eyed expression.

"He's going up to the castle with her!" Hermione said indignantly. "I thought he was waiting for us!"

Hagrid trudged off the grounds with Madame Maxime, the Beauxbatons students following behind them, jogging to keep up with their enormous strides.

"Well at least we know why Hagrid was wearing those clothes." Claire said as they let themselves out of his hut.

"He fancies her!" Ron said incredulously. "Well, if they end up having children, they'll be setting a world record—bet any baby of theirs would weigh about a ton."

"I did not need that image in my head." Claire grimaced, shaking the picture from her mind.

"Ooh it's them, look!" Hermione whispered.

The Durmstrang party was walking up toward the castle from the lake. Viktor Krum was walking side by side with Karkaroff, and the other Durmstrang students were straggling along behind them. Claire caught a glimpse of Jeremy, who turned around and spotted Claire sending her a smile and wave. Claire returned the smile and wave.

"What's going on between you two?" Ron questioned, noticing the exchange.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Ron, Jeremy's my friend."

"That's what you said about Saxton and look what ended up happening." Ron said.

"What's that Claire?" Hermione asked, noticing something sticking out of Claire's robe pocket.

"Oh, Professor Dumbledore gave me this." Claire answered taking out the journal.

"What did Dumbledore have to say?" Harry said.

"He told me to write down my dreams and to come speak with him about them when they occurred. He said that my dreams were visions." Claire explained.

"So then Professor Trelawney was right about you being a Seer?" Ron said in disbelief.

Claire shook her head.

"What do you mean?" Harry questioned. "If you're having visions then wouldn't that make you a Seer?"

"I asked Professor Dumbledore the same question and he said I needed to talk to my father." Claire said.

"But what could your father possibly know about your dreams?" Hermione asked.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out." Claire said.

When they entered the candlelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. Fred and George, who no longer had white beards, seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.

"Hope it's Angelina," Fred said as Harry, Claire, Ron, and Hermione sat down.

"So do I!" Hermione said breathlessly. "Well, we'll soon know!"

The Halloween feast seemed to take longer than usual. Everyone seemed anxious and excited to hear the names of the champions called.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original clean state; Dumbledore stood to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. However, Mr. Crouch looked uninterested and bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore said. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber"—he indicated the door behind the staff table— "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire appeared to shine more brightly than before. Everyone watched, waiting...

"Any second," Lee Jordan whispered.

The flames inside the goblet turned red again. Sparks flew from it and soon a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it— the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so he could read it by the light of the flames.

"The champion of Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!" Ron yelled as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Viktor Krum rose from the Slytherin table, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff boomed, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down as the flames from the goblet turned red again. A second piece of parchment flew into the air.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," Dumbledore said, "is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her, Ron!" Harry shouted as the girl who so resembled a vela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Oh, look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said over he noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party.

"That's an understatement," Claire said, noticing two of the girls who had not been selected crying.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished, the goblet's fire burned red again and a third piece of parchment shot out of it.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

"No!" Ron said loudly, but no one except Claire and Harry could hear him. Claire glared at Ron before shouting, "Go Cedric!"

Cedric was able to hear her over the noise and sent her an appreciative smile as he headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table grinning broadly.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as the clapping died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—"

Dumbledore stopped speaking as the fire in the goblet turned red for a fourth time,

"That's not suppose to happen, is it?" Ron said.

Claire shook her head. "All the champions have been called already."

A long flame shot into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment. Dumbledore caught and stared at the name written upon it. Dumbledore did not speak for a few minutes. He seemed to be staring at the parchment not quite believing what was written on it. Dumbledore soon cleared his throat and read out—

"Harry Potter."


Finally, things are starting to happen! Harry's champion, Claire's dreams are visions but she's not a Seer, Hermione's still obsessed over House-Elves' rights, Ron is not approving of whatever is going on between Jeremy and Claire, Jeremy's a wizard, Crouch and the Doctor had a glare off (actually it was mostly Crouch) as well as Saxton and Jeremy, and Hagrid's trying to get himself a lady. A lot happened in this chapter that is important, maybe even crucial, to this book's plot. I literally spent the entire day today researching everything about Harry Potter and Doctor Who stuff for this book. I said I was going to change the plot from the original book and right now the ideas are good but still have a few holes that I have to fill up. When I was writing this chapter I found it contradicted some of the earlier chapters I wrote so I had to modify it. I'm really excited to write this book even more than the last book because so much is planned for the ending of this book that's extremely important in Claire's character development as well as the story's. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Just so you all know the chapter updates may slow down for a bit while I try to plan out the plot line for the end of this book. Thank you for all of your support! I still can't believe people are still reading this. It makes my day whenever someone comments on my stories or favorites them. Which reminds I did not thank the new followers from the last chapter so here's a thanks to those followers as well as some new ones: robert100, sophiewhettingsteel, Spacedragon1999, SG-19, kimicachow, Angelic Aramina, and Sallymarie101.

Reply to Reviews:

Rainpelt the Doctor: Good guess about the boy. You'll find out at the end of the book who the boy is. I'm glad you liked the Doctor teaching. That was actually the last part I wrote and it was hard to write for some reason.

Natekleh: Well, I think the Doctor will definitely inform about paradoxes and whatnot before taking them on the trip. And Ron definitely does fanboy way too much.

NicoleR85: Thanks!

Teckie De Cool: Glad to hear you're feeling better. I would love it if the Doctor was my teacher. I'm thrilled you like the way I write him. The only trouble with writing him is that I always end up writing him last because he's a difficult character to write. There's no guarantee that Jason is the one in the dream. I will neither confirm or deny who the boy is until it is revealed. I'm sorry I sunk your ship, but what I have planned for the ending of the book should make you feel better.

Rukia-chappy: Trouble is now beginning and will only get worst from here on out.

nerdfighter1309: Saxton transferred from Durmstrang to Hogwarts in his second year and he's been there ever since.

Spacedragon1999: I definitely agree with you about the Cruciatus Curse being the worst. With Avada Kedrava it's one hit and you're dead. The Cruciatus Curse can be multiple hits that feel like someone's trying to insert nails and knives into your body and there's no guarantee you'll die. You'll just have to suffer until the person stops putting the spell on you.

auknowntimelord: No problem.

WhovianGeronimo: I'm glad you like Carina as a mom and the Doctor as a teacher. Thanks for clearing up about the GCSE. We had EOC (final exam) for math and apparently they aren't counting them because the whole state failed it. American education for ya, it's just great! (detect sarcasm) My teachers at my school wouldn't care if there was a tornado outside, they'd still give a ten page essay, five hundred page book to read, and fifty math problems expecting us to do them despite the tornado.