"Have you got a quill, Ginny?" Clara asked. The ginger shook her head. Clara turned toward John.

"No, why?"

Clara groaned. "I want to get Krum's autograph"!

John frowned. "Why though? You didn't even cheer for Bulgaria… If anything you were just after the Vee–"

Clara's face became an unnatural red colour, and she hissed, "Will everyone just stop talking about that!"

"Nope," Ginger muttered.

Clara rolled her eyes and sighed. "I just want to get the autograph of a professional Quidditch player, is that so much?"

"I didn't know it was anything," John said truthfully.

The three of them walked back to the Great Hall, and sat down. The Beauxbatons students had decided to sit with the Ravenclaws, while the Durmstrang accompanied the Slytherins. The giant lady (John could not for his life remember her name) appeared alongside Dumbledore next to the teacher's' table, and suddenly the Beauxbatons students lept to their feet. Some Hogwartians laughed at that.

"Is this the military?" John muttered under his breath. He was half expecting the Durmstrang students to salute.

Dumbledore spoke a bit, but John didn't pay much attention. He was looking at the two chairs added at the end of the table. Maxime and Karkaroff already had their seats, which meant that someone else was coming… Two somebody's…

The food appeared on the table, and Clara made a gagging sound. John instantly looked at her in alarm.

"Wha–"

"What is that?" Clara pointed to a black pudding that was lumpy.

John cocked his head. "Er, that's beef and kidney suspended in a sort of black pudding–"

Ginger wrinkled her nose. "Why is it here though?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not the chef at this school. And let me tell you that if I was, we would only be having bananas and chocolate."

"You would get fat," Clara muttered.

"Correction, we would all get fat. Honestly, where's a P.E. teacher when you need one? Clara, don't you know one?" He looked at his friend expectantly.

"No…?"

Ginger waved her hand. "Hello! Severely ignored friend here! What's P.E?"

John made a sour face. "Really awful. It's basically just military training but toned down–"

Clara sighed. "No, John. It's not. P.E. stands for 'Physical Education–"

"Ew!" Ginny exclaimed.

"No! Not like that!" John said, "That's Health class. Basically though, P.E. is where you run around, do some push-up, stretching–"

"Oh!" said Ginny. "That seems fine."

"For some," John grunted. "I can take the running, but my old body can not handle the flexibility test."

Clara, who's mouth was full said, "John, you're thirteen. You're just unathletic."

A Beauxbatons girl appeared at their side. "Are vous needing vous bouillabaisse?"

John shrugged. "You can have it," he passed it to her. The girl smiled briefly, before turning on her heel and walking back to the Ravenclaw table.

Ginger broke the silence. "Ha! Knew it! Clara's–"

"Would you just shut up?" Clara said loudly, attracting some attention.

"Did I miss something?" John asked.

Ginger laughed. "Hell yes! Clara was ogling the girl!" A few students around them chuckled.

"Shut up!"

"She's just hormonal," John explained. "She's thirteen."

"Excuse me?" Clara said vehemently. "That's crossing the line!"

Ginger nodded. "Actually, you're right. We don't need a, er, P.E. class–"

"Health," Clara and John corrected at the same time.

"Whatever."

"I'm going to kill you both," said Clara slowly and venomously.

"You'll have to save that for later," John cut. "Look at who has come…"

The three of them all turned their heads to catch a glimpse of the two new people arriving. Ludo Bagman and Bart Crouch. John had learned their names later, but there those two men were.

John stabbed at some French food while keeping his gaze fixed on the two men. "What are they doing here?"

Ginny answered, "Oh, Dad said that we might see them. Didn't understand it when he said it, I just thought that, you know, they work at the Ministry and stuff. But, also, some kid told me that they're organizing the event."

Dumbledore rose. "The moment has come for the Triwizard Tournament to begin." There was utter silence. Dumbledore smiled, "Before we bring out the casket, I would like to introduce to you: Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Cooperation." Mentally, John was keeping notes. "And of course, Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"Do they have magical rugby?" He asked, louder than was passable as just 'talking to yourself.'

A few other laughed, but John could see Bagaman raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Mr. Bagaman and Mr. Crouch will judge the champions on the panel along with myself, Madame Maxime, and Professor Karkaroff."

John's interest heightened with the mention of the 'champions' and he instantly perked.

"The casket, if you will Mr. Filch," Dumbledore boomed.

Filch stumbled in with a wooden crate encrusted with jewels. It was awe-inspiring. The oldness of the crate did not seem to match the sparkle that the jewels kept.

"––The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector," there was a pause in which there was absolute silence, in which you could practically feel the turn of the earth, where you could hear the howls of the dogs of Hogsmeade, where you could taste the sweat and dust that was in the air. "The Goblet of Fire!"

Dumbledore walked to the chest and pulled out a seemingly, ordinary-looking, wooden goblet. There was, of course the matter of electric, blue flames that danced around the rim, of course. Dumbledore closed the casket, and placed the goblet on top.

"Any aspiring champions must submit themselves within twenty-four hours. You must write your name, clearly I might add, on a piece of parchment, and then drop it into the goblet." John cracked his knuckles, whose sound was clear throughout the Great Hall in the silence. Dumbledore however, continued. "On Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three most judged worthy of championship."

"To all those who are underage, I will be drawing an Age-Line around the goblet. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross the line."

"Oh, yeah, forgot about that one," john muttered.

Clara chuckled. "Oh, you so want to enter."

John hissed back, "There's a chance that you'll die if you enter, serious injury, I'll be missing classes, and it's probably all just a money scam."

Whispering back, Clara said, "John, you would love to put yourself in anything that dangerous or reckless; it's who you are. Second, when did you even start giving a damn about classes? Also, if you win, you get paid"!

John had to admit, his friend knew him well. He wasn't going to admit it to her, but he was slightly, no, moderately, no, definitely wanting to put his name in the goblet.

The whole spiel ended, and they were dismissed. John, Clara and Ginger sat up headed toward the door only to be blocked by a mass of people.

"What's happening?" Clara asked.

John huffed. "Why are you so short? Maybe if you were taller, you'd be able to see."

Clara clearly took offense. "Well, you're obviously larger than I am! What's happening?"

John sighed, and jumped up to see what was causing the holdup. His shoulders slumped. "Oh, that's interesting. Very interesting."

"What?" Ginger said irritably.

"Seems like Karkaroff knows of Moody. They're having an argument…"

Clara pouted. "I really wish I were taller."

The next day was Saturday, and John got ready particularly early. Clara and Ginger had told him that he had to be ready to see who put their name in the goblet. While putting on his trousers, John wondered how it would be if he were 17. Perhaps he would've entered, John wasn't sure. Whenever John looked at himself in the mirror though, he couldn't quite believe it was him. John squinted whenever he looked at himself; his eyes were too old, John realized.

There were no wrinkles on his face, or any other part of his body. But his eyes. They had a certain aura of antiquity and age. Perhaps that was why John was always grumpy.

He walked down to the Great Hall, which only had around twenty people milling around; it was quite early. He noticed Clara sitting with Ginger and the Harry Potter Gang. Scowling, he walked up to her.

"You made it," Clara said glumly.

"Don't seem so surprised," John retorted.

"Did it!" Fred said, entering the Great Hall with George. The twins ran up beside John so that they could talk to Harry. "We've just taken an Aging Potion," he practically squealed.

John felt his heart thump. Perhaps that would work! He kept his natural scowling demeanor, however. "Aren't you going to try it"!

"You bet we are!" George announced, and they wrote their names on parchment, and ran up to the goblet. Fred went first, hopping in. George immediately followed after. They dropped their names in, and for several seconds everyone thought that they had succeeded. And then with a loud POP! The two twins were flung across the room with long white beard that could rival that of Dumbledore's.

The twins were sent to Pomfrey's under Dumbledore's personal order. After about twenty minutes, John had eaten three bowls of sugary cereal and was quite hyper. John's leg was causing the his seat to twitch, which made him nervous, which caused him to twitch his leg. Endless circle.

The Beauxbatons students all entered their names with frilly, blue paper. Clara nudged his shoulder.

"Wanna try?" she asked.

"No, did you see what happened to Fred and George?"

Ginger laughed. "Serves them right for being so daft. As if you could fool Dumbledore."

Hermione, who sat beside Ginger nodded. "Yes, and you're only thirteen Clara. Much too young."

Clara put a hand to her heart. "I'll be fourteen in a month!"

"Still too young," Hermione sang.

"I honestly wouldn't want to," Harry said.

Ron gasped. "What? Harry? Eternal glory!"

Clara laughed. "Eternal glory? Please, that's a joke. You shouldn't want to enter for the glory. You should enter for the fun of it! The adventure. Also, can you remember the last Triwizard Champion?"

Ron scoffed. "That was centuries ago."

"They said eternal. Forever, infinitely," Clara chasitized. Ron spluttered. Clara continued, "Besides, I really want to at least try. John?"

John laughed sourly. "No. Much too dangerous."

Clara punched him lightly. "Come on! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I lost it over the many times I've almost been killed."

Harry frowned. "When?"

John snorted. "You were the main cause of me almost dying, Harry Potter."

Harry's face went as red as a tomato. Clara kicked him in the shin.

"Ow! Clara!"

Ron muttered, "Low blow, low blow," under his breath. John wasn't sure whether or not Ron knew that everyone could hear him.

Clara brushed her hair out of her face. "I'll do it myself." She stared intently at the goblet. "I think it'll work. It should work."

Ginger made a sound of confusion. It was kind of a soft yelp. "What are you talking about?"

John had a tugging feeling in his gut. "Now, really!" He said as Clara got up, and headed toward the goblet. "This really isn't the job for you, Clara. It's probably for that Diggory guy that tried."

"I want a career too, you know," Clara said chuckling. She walked slowly to the goblet, taunting John. He itched so bad to join her.

"Clara, stop being so reckless!" Hermione called after her, getting up from her seat and trying to pull her back. Clara was now mere steps away from the goblet. Her eyes reflected the gold Age-Line, making them look ablaze.

"One... " she said loudly, so that all could hear. "Two…" Oh, where were the professors? "Three!" She jumped over the golden line, and landed safely in the circle. Two seconds… Five seconds… Ten seconds…

"Did it!" She said, pumping her fist. The Great Hall was silent.

Clara beamed, and John was absolutely shocked. Clara smiled, waved her hand at the students, and jumped out of the circle. There was applause; Clara bowed, and skipped back to her seat with Hermione in tow.

"How did you…" Ron faltered. "But that's not possible!"

"No, it's not," John noted.

"Tell me how you did it!" Ron begged.

"How, Clara? How?" Ginger queried.

"You wouldn't be able to do it," Clara said. "It was an experiment, only works on me."

Hermione frowned. "Then, why did you want John to join you?"

Clara smiled devilishly. "Because, if I failed, I wanted someone else that everyone would laugh at. Though, I decided to just take a risk, obviously."

Ron was on his knees. "Tell me!"

"I can't!" Clara laughed. "Sorry."

Hermione's scowl seemed to be etched on her face permanently. "I think I'll get the S.P.E.W. badges for Hagrid," she muttered, "still haven't asked him." And she walked away.

Harry was scratching his hair. "You are quite surprising."

Clara smiled, which caused an unnatural and sort of vindictive feeling towards Harry to form in John's chest. It wasn't even like John fancied Clara; he just didn't think that Harry was good enough. John was not stupid. He was maybe an idiot, but he was still above the average IQ. He could almost understand the teenage mind, and he was sure that there were some chemicals spurring in the air.

Ron was begging once more, along with Ginger.

"Come on!" Ginger plead. "I'm your best friend!"

Clara laughed it off, but John couldn't help but notice that the reflection of the Age Line seemed scarred in her eyes faintly. Her pupil was now surrounded by a thin, gold ring that was almost unnoticeable. But John was attentive.

After the commotion had died down, and fewer and fewer students stopped asking Clara for her secret, Harry and Ron had left with an annoyed Hermione to meet Hagrid. Luna Lovegood had joined them, and was now talking with Ginger.

John stared at Clara, which caused her to laugh shakily.

"What?"

"Could you at least tell me how you did it? Because you seemed so sure that you would pass."

Clara smiled. "I don't know. I have no trick, to be honest. Something just told me that it would work. I don't know, maybe the goblet was too strong for Dumbledore's spells, and let me through. I might've been worthy." She laughed again.

John shook his head. "No, because you also seemed sure that it would work for me. How?"

Clara frowned. "I… Don't' know… Funny how the thoughts just fly away, you know?"

"Clara, this is serious," John hissed. "You just broke a spell made by Dumbledore. Bloody Dumbledore."

"You don't say 'bloody' I've never heard you say that," Clara said.

"Well, unless you're more cooperative I'm going to have to force it out of you, Clara," John said sternly.

"Damnit, John! I don't know how it happened! It just worked."

"You're not 17."

"I know that!" And there it was, the falter in Clara's speech. Her voice quivered, and John saw her left hand twitch, and her right hand flick her short hair back.

I forgot how difficult teenagers were.