Despite how every other student was too preoccupied with the piles of work they'd been given, Hermione had no problems with bounding up to Calla, Daphne and Padma before History of Magic to inform them that she'd started a campaign for the betterment of the lives of house elves. They all looked at her curiously. "This is your project you've been working on?" Daphne asked slowly. "House elf liberation?"

Hermione nodded, beaming. "We're calling ourselves the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare. Our short term aims are to secure house elves fair terms and working wages. Our long term aims are to change the law about wand use, and get an elf representative into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They reall are shocking underrepresented."

"We?"

"Harry is the Secretary and Ron is the Treasurer," Hermione said, looking rather pleased.

"Really?" Calla asked, grinning. She tried to imagine Harry parading about house elf rights.

"Yes." She rattled a tin under Calla's nose. "You're going to be in charge of promotional design - you can make posters and stuff - Padma is working on public relations, and Daphne is political campaign co-ofdinator."

"We are?" Padma asked, frowning at her. "Hermione, have you met a house elf?"

"Yes, I have," Hermione said, folding her arms. "And it's horrid, the way they're treated!"

"But... Most of them aren't treated bad, Hermione," Daphne explained. "They don't want wages. I agree not all of them are treated equally," she said hastily, upon seeing the look on Hermione's face, "but that's not how House elves work. They're loyal to people who are nice to them, they don't want more than that."

"Theyre loyal to their masters," Hermione said. "They aren't their friends. Calla, tell them about Winky."

"I have," she told Hermione. "We all agree Mr Crouch is horrible." She debated a moment before putting her hand over Hermione's tin. "What's in here?"

When she opened the tin she was confronted with about fifty or so large, round badges in a variety of bright colours, each with the word spew written on them. "Ah," she said. Daphne grinned beside her. "Spew."

"Not spew!" Hermione said. "You're as bad as Harry! It says S - P - E - W."

"So it spells spew."

"No, Daphne!" Hermione huffed loudly. "It's two sickles for a badge."

"We have to buy them?"

"Yes! It helps fundraise!"

"For what?"

"For our aims, Daphne! For the rights and liberation of house elves!"

"Do house elves want liberated?"

"Yes!" Hermione said. "How couldn't they?"

"Winky didn't seem to want clothes much, Hermione."

"Because she's been brainwashed! I thought you'd be a bit more understanding, Calla!"

"I am!" she insisted hastily. "But I think you should ask the elves what they want, Hermione."

Hermione huffed. "Are you going to join me or not? Harry and Ron will be awfully let down, too, you know."

"I bet they will," Padma said drily, sighing as she fished in her pocket for two sickles and handed the to Hermione, taking a badge.

Calla and Daphne did the same, and Hermione grinned, launching into a long speech about how she intended to petition for house elf wage increases and encouraged united strike action. They all had to admit when they left class that she had made some good points - house elves weren't exactly treated brilliantly - even if Calla very much doubted that the house elves had a trade union.

"It is a good cause," Daphne said, fiddling with her badge in her pocket. "But Hermione seems very over-enthusiastic."

"That's just Hermione when she's got a project though, isn't it?" Padma said. "We'll see what happens."

But they didn't have a lot of time to think about the liberation of house elves. As the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students grew nearer, excitement grew to a boiling point in the school, But their professors only increased their workload. McGonagall had given their class a simply hideous amount of Transfiguration homework to do, and had been really rather annoyed at the groan they all let out.

"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!" she told them sternly. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing ever closer-"

"They're not till the end of fifth year!" Mandy had cried indignantly. Michael and Lisa rolled their eyes.

"Maybe not, Brocklehurst, but believe me, you need all the help you can get! There remain only two members of this class who can turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pin-cushion! The rest of you are far behind in your studies!"

Calla's hedgehog had only given a small whimper the last time she went near it with a spell, and she didn't think it was very likely to make a pincushion soon. She had left the class in rather low spirits, and had it not been for their Divination class after lunch, she would have stayed in the library all afternoon. She'd left that in a bad mood, too, as Trelawney had bee very pleased with Harry and Ron's predictions from their homework and spent a large part of the lesson praising their entirely incorrect and made up work for its unflinching embrace of the horrors in their path. "Honestly," she muttered to Padma once they left the classroom. "They just made it up! I don't know what Trelawney's thinking!"

"Maybe they're right by accident," Padma said gloomily. Trelawney had said her own star predictions were off balanced and too positive, which she had been quite upset by, because she - unlike the boys - had actually tried for a semblance of accuracy.

Professor Binns had set them essay upon essay about the goblin rebellions, which Calla didn't honestly mind very much. Writing essays, at least, was a skill that she had, as opposed to transfiguring hedgehogs. Or transfiguring anything. Or just spellwork in general. Snape had given them essays, too, and told them to research antidotes, hinting quite heavily that he would be testing their antidotes on themselves. When Calla had mentioned this to Remus in a letter, he had said that he wouldn't really put it past Snape, and so she took extra care to make sure her notes were correct and specific so she would know exactly what she was meant to do.

Their Potions class had been on Thursday morning, and Calla was more nervous than anyone. If Snape was going to poison anyone, it was probably going to be her. He didn't seem to hate her as much as he hated Harry, but that still wouldn't mean he wouldn't enjoy poisoning her. At least it wouldn't be fatal. Probably. The only thing keeping her positive was the promise of the arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students the next day.

She worked very carefully on writing up her antidote recipe before she implemented it, checking the instructions against those of similar antidotes in her book. Snape was watching them all carefully, eyes beady and looking out for any mistake. "Calla," Isobel said quietly. "What do you think would happen if I added mandrake leaves to this?"

"Why would you even ask?" she whispered back, stirring carefully. "Don't do it, Izzy."

By the end of the lesson, Calla was rather confident about her Potion, as it had turned the correct shade of blue and, while possibly a little thin, was mostly the correct consistency. Snape hadn't even had anything bad to say about it, and in the end he hadn't poisoned any of them either. At least not as far as anyone was aware yet - some potions were slow working.

As they headed out to Care of Magical Creatures the day before the other students' arrival, it was impossible to ignore the changed state of the castle. It had been undergoing a very thorough round of cleaning recently, and there was hardly a window that wasn't gleaming. Even the slope down to Hagrid's hut and the forest seemed to have been mowed, so that the grass was even for the first time Calla could ever remember. "They all must be really into this Triwizard Tournament," Zach said to Calla as they headed down the hill. "You missed Sprout in the greenhouse yesterday - Hannah, Neville and I were all there - and she was having a right go about how someone had left a trail of crumbs from the kitchen to the common room, and how Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students would never do such a thing!"

Calla laughed. "Filch has been polishing the door knocker on Ravenclaw Tower more times than I can even count. It's a bit much."

"S'ppose they want Hogwarts to look the best it can, though. Have a bit of school pride, you know. Cedric's been talking about it a lot."

"Diggory?" Calla asked.

"Yeah. He's putting his name down for it, and so's Gwyn Murray and Helen Jones. Don't know any of the others though."

"There are a few putting their names down from Ravenclaw, I think," Calla told him. "James Carrel is, Lewis Henderson and I think Annabelle Turner?"

"I bloody hope it's one of them, if it's not a Hufflepuff. Could you imagine if there was a Gryffindor or Slytherin who got picked? They'd all be insufferable about it."

"I don't even want to think of it," Calla muttered, rolling her eyes. "I hope it's one of us. It's about time someone else got the attention from a change."

"Maybe it'll stop them all from being at each other's throats so much," Zach said.

"Fat chance of anything doing that," Calla laughed as they reached Hagrid. "Still, we can dream."

The teachers were all seemingly very stressed by the time Friday afternoon came around, while the students all buzzed with excitement. Even McGonagall had a hard time keeping control over them all in Transfiguration, as no one seemed at all interested in performing Switching Spells when they had as exciting things as Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students and the tournament to discuss.

"I don't even know where Durmstrang is," Padma said in a whisper. "Let alone what the students'll be like."

"I think it's somewhere in Scandinavia," said Daphne. "Or maybe Russia. It's cold there, anyway, but they have students from all over Europe. They're both bigger than Hogwarts, too, since we only usually have students from Britain and Ireland."

By the time the bell rang for the end of the lesson, the class was completely abuzz, and the Ravenclaws all rushed to the tower to put their books and bags away, grab their cloaks, and rush back downstairs to the Entrance Hall where the rest of the school was gathered. They shifted into their houses, as Flitwick tried to order the chattering, giggling horde all into lines - to do this, he had levitated himself several feet in the air so that everyone could see him - and maintain some semblance of order in the chaos they created.

Calla shifted to stand beside Padma, hearing McGonagall scold Parvati for the ornate butterfly she'd worn in her hair. Padma shook her head. "I told her it was over the top." She'd put a blue flower in her own hair, which was quite pretty, though she had insisted it was for the practicality of holding her hair back in classes.

"Are we all here then?" Flitwick chirped, looking very excitedly. He wiggled in the air, levitating so he could see everybody. "Good, then. Ah... Follow me, please, everyone."

They filed quickly down the stairs outside in their lines, everyone still very excited. The evening was crisp outside, and the sun was setting slowly just over the horizon. Calla was glad for the warmth of her cloak, as the air had a certain chill about it, and she pulled the fabric tighter around her so that she wouldn't shiver when the other schools arrived. "How do you think they're getting here?" asked Daphne from Calla's other side, looking up at the sky. "My mother said Beauxbatons has a fleet of winged horses, but I can't imagine making their students fly all the way here on the backs of those. It would be an awful journey."

"Maybe they're getting the train?" Isobel suggested, frowning down the front drive towards the gates.

"Maybe," Calla mused. She glanced back up at the sky. "Brooms, maybe?"

"Again, that would be an awful journey." Daphne shook her head. "Whatever it is, I'm sure they'll be entirely unnecessary and extravagant."

"Oh, I hope it's interesting, though," Padma said. "They won't just use a Portkey?"

"No," Calla said. "That would be entirely too subtle."

"They could Apparate?" Isobel said.

"No they couldn't," said Lisa from Isobel's other side. "Don't you read, Isobel?" Of course, Calla remembered; no one could Apparate within Hogwarts grounds. It was part of its strange magic.

"Yes, I do read, Lisa. Do you have any ideas or are you just going to dismiss mine?"

Lisa rolled her eyes dramatically. "I think we should wait and find out. I can't wait to see what they do, but you four keep chatting."

"That's not going to affect her sight," Daphne muttered, rolling her eyes. "And everyone's chatting!"

"Ignore her," said Padma placidly. "She's just in a bad mood."

Lisa scoffed but said no more, as Dumbledore's voice said suddenly from the back of the crowd, "Aha! I believe the delegation from Beauxbatons is about to arrive!"

Everyone stared around sharply. "Where?" Isobel said, squinting.

Calla glanced up to the sky and - there. Something very dark and large was flying across the top of the Forest, set against the deepening blue sky. "It's a dragon!" squealed Emma Dobbs, jumping up and down.

"Don't be stupid!" a Gryffindor shouted back. "It's a flying house!"

"It's a carriage," Daphne whispered, and Calla squinted, making out the shape of it, turning powder blue in the castle lights, and the gorgeous animals pulling it. The winged horses Daphne had mentioned.

"You were half right, Daphne!" she said, and Padma tugged on her arm excitedly, losing all pretence of sophistication or sensibility.

"It's massive!" she cried, beaming ridiculously. "Oh my goodness!"

There was a commotion as the carriage drew nearer, forcing the first three rows of students to stumble backwards to avoid getting hit as the carriage landed heavily on the grass. They all peered forward over shoulders, Daphne jumping up so she could get a look, as a golden haired boy in a powder blue robe sprang out of the carriage and fumbled with something for a moment before he let down a set of golden steps and then stepped back respectively.

A moment later, a very large, black heeled shoe stepped out, followed by an exceptionally large woman who seemed to be even larger than Hagrid. Calla's eyes widened as she rose up on tiptoe to get a better look; Daphne scowled as the third year in front of her rose too higher to jump over, and she shuffled closer to Calla to try and peer through a gap. "Do you need me to lift you?" Calla teased, earning a glare back.

The woman was dressed head to toe in black satin, with glittering opals that adorned her throat and wrists. She had a handsome, olive-skinned face, with dark, beady eyes and a large, beaky sort of nose. But despite her size, she was elegant in her walk, and while the students stared, Dumbledore clapped. They joined in, Calla smiling as she momentarily tried to pick up a scowling Daphne to see. She shot her a playful glare. "Just trying to help."

Daphne shook her head, sticking her tongue out, and they broke into giggles as the woman smiled at them all. Lisa Turpin shot a glare along the line and they just giggled more, earning a reluctant grin from Padma. They watched as Dumbledore bent to kiss the woman's large hand, which was also covered in shimmering opal rings. "My dear Madame Maxime," he said to her with a smile. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," said Madam Maxime. "I hope I find you well?"

"On fine form," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I thank you."

"My pupils," Madam Maxime said, and waved a rather careless hand behind her. There were about a dozen or so teenagers all standing there, shivering in silk blue robes, some with scarves tied around their heads. They clearly hadn't dressed for the occasion - Calla could see Isobel biting back a laugh at their predicament - and were looking around very apprehensively.

"Has Karkaroff arrived yet?" asked Madam Maxime.

"He should be here any minute," Dumbledore told her pleasantly. "Would you prefer to stay here and wait or go inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I should think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses-"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures professor can take care of them," Dumbledore said, "as soon as he is finished handling some of his other charges."

"They need - er - forceful handling." Madame Maxime looked very dubious of anyone from Hogwarts trying to deal with her horses - who were absolutely massive - but Calla was sure if anyone could deal with them, it would be Hagrid.

"I assure you., Hagrid will be more than up to the task." Dumbledore smiled.

"Very well, then," said Madam Maxime, bowing slightly to Dumbledore, "will you inform this Hagrid that ze horses will drink only single malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," Dumbledore told her, and he bowed as well.

"Come," said Madam Maxime to her crowd of gathered students, and the Hogwarts students all parted to make way for them.

"I love their robes," Daphne whispered as soon as they were gone. "They look so lovely, they're silk. Not like our things."

"They don't look very cozy, though," Calla pointed out, drawing her cloak tighter around her. "Didn't you see them all shivering?"

"They were pretty though," Padma said. "In terms of the colour."

"We should have something like that for the Summer," Daphne agreed. "Black is always too warm... We could have a lovely blue and bronze for Ravenclaw."

"Suit yourself," said Isobel, turning to them. "I hate blue on me. It clashes with my hair and everyone makes stupid jokes about it."

"Yeah, but Izzy, most things clash with your hair."

Isobel pulled a face. "Alright, just because you're blonde..."

They were shivering now in the darkness, waiting impatiently and watching the sky above them for the Durmstrang students to arrive. There was silence for a few minutes, everyone waiting in an excited sort of tension, the silence only broken by the giant horses snorting and stamping their feet.

Then there was a loud noise that rose up around them in a slightly eerie way. It was a sort of rumbling and sucking sound, like a vacuum cleaner running along the edge of a river bed. Calla stared around into the darkness, listening out as the sound got louder. "The lake!" someone shouted nearby. "Look at the lake!"

Everyone turned eagerly towards the lake, where the usually smooth water was being disturbed, ripping out and shaking on the top. Bubbles rose on the surface, like it was slowly boiling; and then there was a sound like a plug being pulled and a whirlpool opened up in the darkness. A long, thin dark pole rose from it slowly, and Calla stared as the rigging came into view. "It's a ship," Padma said, blinking rapidly. She glanced along the line at them. "Isn't it?"

Calla nodded; the ship rose slowly and grandly from the dark water, shining in the moonlight. It looked almost skeletal, like it could have been a wreck of some sort, with misty portholes along the hull that seemed like eyes. The ship was magnificent yet at the same time eerie. A wave sloshed against the side as the ship glided forwards towards them, and in a moment an anchor was dropped down into the deep water, grounding the ship. A plank thudded as it was lowered onto the bank.

People started to disembark, their silhouettes visible as they passed the misty ship portholes. They all seemed to be built bulkily and stockily, but as they came closer it seemed this was an illusion given by the great fur cloaks they all wore. "They look warmer than the Beauxbatons students, at least," said Calla quietly to Daphne as the Durmstrang students came up towards the light of the Entrance Hall. They were being led by a man wearing sleeker, silver furs, who called out heartily, "Dumbledore!" on his approach. "How are you my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff!" Dumbledore smiled.

When Karkaroff stepped into the light, Calla peered closer. Like Dumbledore, he was built tall and thin, but his hair was far shorter, and he had a goatee rather than a beard, curling under his rather weak chin. He shook Dumbledore's hands tightly with two of his own, smiling.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle. "How good it is to be here... How good... Viktor, here, come along into the warmth. I hope you don't mind Dumbledore, Viktor has a bit of a cold."

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students and as he passed Calla couldn't help but to recognise him. Mandy still had his poster hanging above her bed, and he was a hard person to forget. She saw his close shaven head, large black eyebrows, and a prominent nose. "Oh my god," she said quietly, as Padma grabbed her arm. "That's - that's Krum!"

"I know!" said Padma, sounding and looking stunned.

"I didn't know he was that young," Daphne whispered. "How old do students stay at Durmstrang for?"

"I thought only seven years," Padma hissed back. "Like everyone. Is he really seventeen?"

"Eighteen, at least, I thought," Daphne said. "Even still..."

"Bloody hell," Isobel said as they moved closer together to head up to the Entrance Hall. "Is that really Viktor Krum?"

"Oh, it is," Lisa said. "Isn't it Mandy?"

Mandy went very red. "I - well, yes. It is, but I... Can you believe he's here?" She looked around at them all. "Do you think he'd give me his autograph if I asked?"

"Yeah, maybe go get your poster from the dorm. He looks like he'd love that."

Mandy's face turned even redder as she shook her head; Sue giggled. "I don't believe it. I... I really don't."

"Get his autograph if you can," said Michael excitedly, bouncing on his toes to get a better look. "So will I, anyone got a quill?"

Lisa handed him one and rolled her eyes, as they all made their way into the Great Hall. The Beauxbatons students appeared to have assembled themselves at the end of the Ravenclaw Table, and the Ravenclaws hung back a moment uncertainly before a couple of older years stepped forward and went to sit down. The rest of them followed, and Daphne went to sit by a dark haired Beauxbatons boy, who was looking very glum. "I speak good French."

Calla smiled as she sat down next to her, Padma and Isobel opposite. Daphne turned immediately to the boy, chattering away. Calla could barely catch a word of it, but after a moment the boy laughed warmly, shaking his head, seeming to momentarily forget his dismay at the cold. The other Beauxbatons students didn't seem so cheerful; some of them still held scarves and shawls around their heads, and one girl was wearing a grey furry muffler.

"Ron looks like he's drooling over Krum," Padma drawled, grinning as she looked over. Calla followed her gaze and giggled; he and Harry both seemed to be watching Krum keenly, and Hermione just rolled her eyes. She caught Calla's eye and grinned, mouthing, 'ridiculous'.

"To be fair, so do most people," Calla put in. The Durmstrang students had just gone over to sit at the Slytherin Table, who were all looking very pleased with themselves. The Durmstrang students all looked very impressed by the enchanted ceiling, and were looking around with interest.

Filch was adding tables at the staff table, not just for the other headteachers, but two others. Calla wondered who those might be for. "Who else is coming?" Padma wondered aloud, nodding to the staff table.

Daphne broke off her conversation with the Beauxbatons boy and looked around. "Oh. I don't know. Someone from the Ministry, I suppose. Calla?"

Calla shrugged. "Dunno how I'm meant to know."

"Do you know, Pierre?" Daphne asked the Beauxbatons boy. He also shrugged.

"I heard it is someone from your Ministry. Your - Crouch."

"Barty Crouch?" Calla hissed.

"The one who fired his house elf?" Padma whispered across the table, looking at Calla.

"I think so. He is Head of the Department of Magical Co-Operation, after all." She turned around towards the Gryffindor table again. "Hermione won't like that."

"Is she still on her spew campaign?" Isobel asked curiously. She'd joined up for a laugh, and though she appreciated the cause, also enjoyed calling it 'spew' far too much.

"Yeah. She'll probably be recruiting the exchange students next."

"What," the Beauxbatons boy - Pierre - started, "Is this... Spew?" He sounded very confused by the word, like he had to really push the sound out.

"Society for the Promotion Of Elvish Welfare," Daphne told him. "Our friend Hermione started it and we're all members."

Pierre stared. "Why?"

"The badges are quite cool," Padma said.

"And I like saying spew."

"Also, it's a good cause," Calla said, and Daphne nodded.

"It is. And Hermione's very passionate about it. She's sitting over at the Gryffindor table." Daphne jerked her head over towards the Gryffindor, who seemed to all be sulking about the Durmstrang students - namely Krum - sitting with the Slytherins. Calla grinned.

Their chatter ceased as the rest of the students filed in, followed by the teachers in a long line, at the end of which entreated Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madam Maxime. Pierre and the other Beauxbatons students leapt to their feet at her entrance, and didn't sit down until she did. There were a couple of giggles from the other students, but the Beauxbatons pupils didn't seem to pay it any heed. Dumbledore alone remained standing, Maxime and Karkaroff on either side, and held his hand up for silence before he spoke.

"Good evening," he said, beaming around the hall, "ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most importantly - guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the girls further down the table gave a derisive sort of laugh and clutched her muffler tightly. Calla caught Padma and Isobel both rolling their eyes. "The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Dumbledore went on pleasantly. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

As Dumbledore sat down, the tables filled themselves with food. There were the usual dishes of chicken, black pudding, steak pies, but also many others Calla didn't recognise. Daphne smiled and helped herself, and Calla and Isobel were both staring up and down the table. "Tell me those aren't snails," Isobel said, pointing at a plate. "Tell me they've no gotten us snails!"

Calla leaned forward to inspect the plate, and wrinkled her nose. Snails. That seemed like a posh sort of food, to be honest, the kind that was both mildly gross and also intriguing. "Escargot," said Daphne, tossing her hair.

"Snails," Isobel said with a vaguely horrified sort of nod, and helped herself to what Calla was pretty sure was haggis.

Pierre tried the haggis too, and appeared very dubious. "Does it not come from... The loins?"

"Sheep guts," Isobel said pleasantly. Calla tried to hide a grin.

He had one bite, shuddered, and had a snail instead. "Poor show," said Calla with a grin as she tucked into chicken pie.

"I would not eat that thing again," said Pierre. "Your British food is... Not very much to my tastes."

"Haggis is Scottish," Isobel said, looking rather affronted. "And it's better than anything in England."

"What about Yorkshire puddings?" Padma asked, frowning.

"Don't test me, Padma."

They ate their way merrily through the first course of the feast, and Pierre's attention was distracted by one of his classmates complaining about a lack of bouillabaisse on their table. "Bouillabaisse?" Isobel whispered.

"It's really lovely," said Daphne. "I'd have some if there were any."

"Over there on that table," said Pierre to the girl who had been complaining about the bouillabaisse - she was the one who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech, and without her muffler Calla found that she was very pretty. Pierre pointed to where Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting. "With those boys."

"You think they will not mind?"

"That's my brother," Calla said to the girl, who turned around to her, revealing large blue eyes along with her silvery hair. She swallowed thickly. She was really pretty. "The one with the dark hair. He won't eat it, just go ahead."

"Thank you," said the girl, making her way over to the Gryffindor table.

Calla watched as Ron's face went very purple and he stared at her. She rolled her eyes while Padma and Isobel giggled. "Look at his face," Daphne said, huffing. "You'd think half these boys had never seen a girl before, honestly."

"Ah, does your brother's friend like Fleur?" Pierre asked with a grin. Padma laughed. "She is very pretty."

"Pierre!" Daphne said in a mock scandalous way.

"Well, her grandmother is a veela." Pierre shrugged. "It is less surprising when you know her. She is very pretty but she has the veela spirit inside her, too."

Fleur came to sit back down, setting the bouillabaisse carefully on the table. She seemed rather oblivious to the stares she was getting from the boys around her - although maybe she was just used to it, and chose to ignore the attention. Calla found herself staring too for a moment, and caught Padma's eye awkwardly.

"Do you really think she's a veela?" Isobel whispered as Pierre turned away.

"She's beautiful enough," Padma said, then blinked, looking awkward. "And I don't see why it would be lied about."

"Look who's come in," Daphne said abruptly, pointing to the High Table. Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch were both sidling along by the wall, making their way into the spare chairs by Karkaroff and Maxime.

"Ah, Pierre was right," said Padma. "And Bagman, too. Suppose it makes sense for him to be here, too, to see the Tournament start."

As the first course was swept away, it was replaced by a multitude of puddings. Calla spied meringue and immediately took some, piling on cream and berries. "That looks like a mess," said Daphne pointedly, eating a dainty looking pastry.

"It's a Hogwarts mess," Calla said absently, and Isobel grinned while Padma and Daphne frowned. "You'll get it at some point, Daphne. Keep up the Muggle Studies."

When at last they had all finished, Dumbledore got back to his feet again and the hall hushed. It seemed to fill with a sort of pleasant excitement, as everyone leaned closer to see what would happen next and what Dumbledore would say. "The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at them. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket-"

"Casket?" Calla whispered.

"Death toll," Isobel said in a sarcastically sombre way. Padma shushed her, and shook her head.

"-just to clarify the procedure which we will be using this year. But firstly let me introduce, for those of you who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department for International Magical Co-Operation." They applauded politely but without very much excitement at all. "And Mr Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

The applause for him was much louder, which made Mr Crouch look slightly as though he had a lemon in his mouth. Even in wizard's robes he looked awfully serious - and especially when put next to Dumbledore - which was something Calla didn't quite think was possible. Snape and McGonagall didn't even carry the same air of crisp sternness, though maybe it was just strange because she'd first seen him in such a neat Muggle suit.

"Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Tournament. And they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff and Madam Maxime on the panel which will be judging the champions' efforts."

The air seemed to sharpen at that, as everyone sat up straighter, with a keener interest in what he had to say. It seemed Dumbledore had noticed. He smiled serenely at them all and then said, "The casket, then, if you please, Filch."

They all turned, looking around for Filch as he came out of the shadows, dragging behind him a very large, very old wooden box, inlaid with jewels. "It looks ancient," Isobel whispered, being shushed by Padma.

Everyone was looking at the box with great excitement as they anticipated what was about to be revealed from inside. "The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch," Dumbledore said as Filch placed the chest on the table, "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 most of all, their ability to cope with danger." At this final word the Hall quieted. Calla shivered. "As you know, three champions compete in the tournament. One from each of the participatin 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 themselves will be chosen by an impartial selector... The goblet of fire."

Under the eager eyes of every student, Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped it three times on the top of the casket. The lid freaked open very slowly, almost eerily, and Calla squinted as he reached inside, pulling out a very large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It wasn't so grand, but it was remarkable for the blue white flames that danced within it, just spilling over the brim. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the cup carefully on top of it. It could be seen, Calla was sure, even by those at the very back of the Great Hall.

"Anyone wishing to submit themselves as champion must write clearly their name and School on a slip of paper and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. Whispering broke out further along the table where a gaggle of sixth years sat. "Aspiring champions have twenty four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will choose those three it deems most worthy to represent their schools and return their names. 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," Dumbledore continued, and the sixth years all leaned forward curiously, "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 this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that the 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 to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you become champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are whole heartedly willing to play before you enter your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time to say goodnight to you all."

"So it's an age line then?" whispered Isobel as they made their way out the Hall amongst the mass of students. "Do you think anyone's going to try and get over it?"

"Oh, definitely," said Padma. "Probably some Gryffindor."

"Fred and George are already working on it, I'm sure," Calla said.

"They'll be trying to rope you in next."

Calla shook her head. "No thanks. I wouldn't go in for it even if I was seventeen. You've no idea what they might have the champions do."

"True," said Daphne. "Still, would've been nice to have a glance... Maybe there's a way around it."

"Really all you'd need is an older student to put it in for you," said Lisa breezily, coming over to them with Mandy and Michael in tow. "That's what I'm going to do."

"Like you'd get picked," said Daphne, shaking her head.

"You never know until you find out," said Lisa loftily and went on in front of them.

"She won't get picked," Daphne said, glaring. "She won't even have the guts to put her name in."

"I bloody hope she doesn't," Isobel said. "Imagine how insufferable she'd be. I'm supporting Annabelle, all the way."

They all nodded. "As long as it's a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff," Padma said. "Parvati's convinced it's going to be a Gryffindor, and I don't want her to be right."

Calla grinned at the thought. "Suppose we'll know soon enough, won't we?"

"I suppose so," Padma said.

They all stayed up late that night, discussing their theories on who the Hogwarts champion would be, until they were all tired beyond words and slept soundly through the night. Calla dreamt of the goblet of fire, lit up pink and dazzling the hall, and she dreamt of green light that surged through the windows and made everything still. A cold voice yelled something that she couldn't make out. It jolted her from her dream, her heart pounding. But all she could hear in her dormitory was Isobel's snoring and the faint hoots of owls somewhere far away. There was nothing to hurt her here, she told herself, sipping cold water and breathing in carefully. She was safe.

Author's Note: I meant to update this on Friday, then realised the chapter was only half done and I couldn't find a scene that I thought I had written for it, and is probably stuck in some random folder on my laptop, so this is a bit later than planned! The next update should hopefully be coming on Wednesday! Stay safe, and I hope you enjoyed reading!