Chapter 9

I kept my head down and focused on my studies for the next several weeks. The teachers were piling the assignments on so thick that I hardly had time to breathe, let alone worry about my night on the astronomy tower. I spent my days absorbing as much as I possibly could from my lessons, and my nights studying in the common room with Charlie. It was simply a plus that this left almost no time for me to run into Fred, George, Angelina, and Lee in the corridors.

A couple times, Fred had tried to approach me between classes, but I would duck my head and take off in the opposite direction, even if it took me far from where I needed to be. Professor McGonagall gave me a disapproving look on more than one occasion when I slid into my seat a few minutes late after taking a lap around the castle to avoid him. Charlie kept him far away from the Hufflepuff table at meal times, simply with her stone-cold glare. In the early days, Ginny more than once tried to figure out what happened, but I refused to talk about it, and eventually she stopped asking.

As the weeks went by, the entire school's attention began to shift to the upcoming arrival of the foreign schools on the day before Halloween. A week before they came, a large sign had been placed at the bottom of the marble staircase, saying that lessons would end a half-hour early the next Friday, and that all students were to be in their robes in the Great Hall for the Welcome Feast.

The entire student body, and most of the staff buzzed with excitement during the next week's lessons. Every day there was a new rumor or topic of conversation regarding the tournament and the potential champions. How would they be arriving? What would they wear or act like? Girls whispered in the about whether or not the boys at Beauxbatons or Durmstrang would be interested in them, and boys boasted that they would be the next Triwizard Champion. It all was a bit frivolous.

The castle also seemed to be getting a scrubbing from top to bottom; I'd never seen it so pristine. Old dusty portraits had been deep cleaned, and the suits of armor had been polished and oiled to perfection. Filch spent afternoons scrubbing the floors on his hands and knees, and would come after any student who so much forgot to wipe their feet before coming inside.

"Poor bloke," whispered Charlie one day, as we passed him wiping down baseboards by hand. "Don't know why they couldn't get someone to do that by magic."

"What?" I hadn't even thought about the fact that the meticulous cleaning being done by the caretaker could have easily been done with the wave of a wand.

Charlie waited until we had gotten well past the old man and past the listening ears of his cat, Mrs. Norris. "Filch is a squib. Surely, you knew that?"

"Well, I guess I hadn't really thought about it." I'd heard the term before, used to refer to people who had magical parents, but had not been born with any magical abilities themselves. Kind of the opposite of what I was. Most of them generally broke off from magical society and settled down with muggles. I couldn't imagine getting to grow up in this world of wonder, only to have to leave it behind. It was kind of sad really. I made a mental note not to be so hard on the old man.

The morning of October thirtieth came faster than any of the Professors could have imagined. All day Thursday they had struggled to keep our attention; Flitwick completely abandoning his attempt to review summoning charms and leaving us to our gossip about the tournament. I smiled on my way to breakfast Friday, knowing there would be no hope of learning anything new today.

"I just hope we don't get assigned too much homework over the weekend," groaned Charlie, who had been going on about how they should've cancelled lessons today all together.

"If it's anything like what we've been getting, this will probably be our busiest weekend yet," I said trying to match her energy. But truthfully, I was excited about the prospect of foreign students coming to our school, and having a bit of fun for a change. I was getting a bit burnt out on studying, and I was running out of reasons to stay shut up in the common room.

When we entered the Great Hall, I could see that it had been redecorated overnight. There were huge, floor to ceiling banners, one for each of the four Houses. A scarlet one trimmed in gold bore a lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, an emerald banner with a green snake for Slytherin, and sunflower yellow trimmed in black with a badger for Hufflepuff. At the front of the hall, behind the staff table, was the biggest banner yet, befitted with the Hogwarts coat of arms: our four animals united around the letter H.

We walked past the Gryffindor table and I scanned it looking for Ginny. As my gaze slid down the row of seats, I happened to look dead in Fred's eyes. He was sitting with George a little apart from the rest of the students, and George was bent over a sheet of parchment that Fred had just looked up from. I could see a hopeful expression cross his face for a brief moment, and he offered me a small smile.

Before I could even scowl and look away, my usual response to meeting his eyes, Angelina burst into the Hall and ran past me, sliding into a seat at Fred's side. I tried to ignore the flare of anger building in my stomach, and turned to follow Charlie to the Hufflepuff table; nothing would ruin this day.

We sat down with Cedric, Beatrice, and a couple of other sixth year Hufflepuffs. Cedric and Beatrice looked excited, and confident. I knew they both were planning on entering.

"D'you think they'll start deciding the champions as soon as the other schools arrive?" I asked casually, while buttering a piece of toast.

"Dunno," said Beatrice, "I reckon they'll want to give the students a little while to settle, but I do hope they get on with it."

"I just can't wait to see what they're like!" exclaimed Charlie, bouncing up and down in her seat.

One of the other sixth years, Margaret, had started to say something in response, but was promptly cut off by the sound of a hundred birds, wings all beating at once. All of us looked up to see the post owls arriving through the open window near the ceiling. A brown screech owl swooped down, and dropped a copy of The Daily Prophet into Beatrice's outstretched hand. The headline that was visible while the paper was still rolled up read, Delegates to Arrive at Hogwarts: Let the Triwizard Tournament Begin! A second bird, this one a rather large, black owl, dropped in front of Cedric and held out his leg. I watched Cedric swallow hard, and then reach out with a slightly shaking hand and untie a roll of parchment. A crease formed in his forehead as he read the letter.

"What is it, Ced?" I surprised myself by reaching out and putting my hand over his. Everyone sitting around us noticed, and I immediately pulled it back and tucked it under my leg. Cedric smiled at me kindly.

"It's my dad," he sighed. "He's really pushing this Hogwarts Champion thing. He thinks I'm for sure going to get it."

"Well you might," offered Charlie. "You're as good as anyone else that's entering."

"Yeah, honestly, I couldn't think of a better Hogwarts Champion. You're brilliant," I said.

"I just wish everyone would come off it," he grumbled. "I don't need fame or glory."

I quietly wondered what house Mr. Diggory had been in when he was in school. Surely Cedric wanted to be chosen, but it felt like his father wanted it more than he did.

Beatrice cleared her throat next to us, "He isn't the only Hufflepuff entering the tournament."

"Right, yes," said Charlie, immediately shifting her attention to her. "It would be pretty cool to have a strong Hufflepuff woman representing her school."

Beatrice smiled, and patted Charlie's hand, only wanting to be included in the conversation. We finished breakfast quickly and headed off to our classes, still buzzing about the Tournament. I was right in thinking that the teachers would struggle to keep our attention on our lessons, and by midday it seemed like they had given up. When the bell rang, a half our early, Charlie and I half-ran back to the Basement to deposit our school bags onto our beds. We put on our unifrom cloaks as we'd been instructed and then rushed back up to meet the other Hogwarts Students in the entrance hall.

Each Head of House was lining their students up in front of them.

Professor Sprout was smiling but visibly stressed as she tried to direct the heard of students, "Macmillan, knock it off, get back in line!"

I could hear Professor McGonagall barking orders at the Gryffindor's loudly from my place in line between Charlie and Claire.

"Alright everyone," Professor Sprout had raised her voice slightly, "First years keep to the front, everyone follow me."

We filed out the oak front doors, and down the stone steps to line up in front of the castle. The air was quite cold, and dusk was rapidly approaching. The moon had already risen above the Forbidden Forest and was shining down. Murmurs were rippling through the crowd as six o'clock grew nearer. I shifted my weight back and forth in anticipation. I'd never met young wizards from other schools before, and I could hardly contain my excitement.

Charlie gripped my arm as we both stared down the long drive to the gates.

"Oh, I wonder how they'll arrive?" she mused. "D'you think they've sent the carriages for them?"

"I dunno, I can't imagine they'd just take the train into Hogsmeade," I replied.

"Maybe they'll just Apparate right up to the gates?" whispered Claire from my other side.

I frowned, "That's an awfully lot of people to Apparate to a place none of them have ever been."

We waited quietly for a few long moments. The night was quiet and still, and I kept squinting into the distance in order to will some sign of the coming students to appear. Next to me, Charlie's teeth had started to chatter, it really was starting to be quite unpleasant to stand outside.

Finally, Dumbledore's voice rumbled from behind us with the other teachers, "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

I whipped my head in all directions, still seeing nothing. "Where?"

"There!" yelled a sixth year box from over my shoulder pointing to the sky over the forest.

I couldn't tell what it was exactly, but something rather large was flying across the sky towards us, growing larger with every passing second.

"It's a dragon!" yelled one of the first years from down in the front.

"Don't be stupid… it's a flying house!" replied the boy that had come in wearing Hagrid's coat during the welcome feast.

This boy's guess was at least closer than a dragon, suddenly the flying object cleared the trees of the Forbidden Forest and the light emanating from the castle windows illuminated it. Charlie and I both gasped as we realized it was a magnificent, giant, horse drawn carriage. It was powder-blue, and nearly the size of the Great Hall. Hurtling through the air towards us, it was pulled by at least a dozen winged palomino horses, each about the size of an elephant.

Rows of students in front of me drew in as the carriage began to lose altitude, and looked like it was going to crash to the ground in front of us. The horses' hooves collided with the ground first, pounding into the dirt. A half-moment later the carriage clamored to the ground behind them, bouncing up and down on its axels. The horses snorted loudly, sending their breath visibly into the cold air, and tossed their heads, chomping on the bits in their mouths.

The door of the carriage swung open, and a tall boy in powder-blue robes the same shade of the carriage itself, jumped out. He bent over and began fooling with something right on the door, and slowly unfolded a small golden set of steps. Then, as the boy sprung up out of the way, a massive, black, high-heeled shoe emerged from the carriage and stepped out into the light. Attached to the giant shoe was tallest woman I had ever seen. I gasped as I realized why the size of the carriage and the horses was necessary. Would any of the others be this huge?

The only other person of this size I had seen was Hagrid, who was undoubtably just as tall. She began to walk towards us, and when the light from the entrance hall hit her, I could see that she had deep olive-toned skin; large, dark eyes, and a long pointed nose. Her hair was swept back into a neat low bun, and her body was draped in black satin which was complimented by large shining opals around her throat and on her hands.

Led by Dumbledore, the entire crowd slowly broke into applause. I turned and locked eyes with Charlie as we both clapped and grinned. The woman's face relaxed into a soft smile, and she started towards Dumbledore as about a dozen boys and girls in their late teens emerged from the carriage.

Dumbledore reached out and kissed the woman's outstretched hand, "My dear, Madame Maxime. Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," the woman, called Madame Maxime's voice was surprisingly deep, "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you."

"My pupils," she said, gesturing now to the students in blue, all shivering behind her. None of them were wearing cloaks, and it appeared that their light blue robes were perhaps made of thin, fine silk. Many of them were looking up at the castle with a slight look of disgust.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" the towering woman asked, looking around.

"He should be here any moment," assured Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," she said in her thick French accent. Then her brows furrowed. "But ze 'orses—"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," he said, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other—er— charges."

Charlie and I snickered at this, knowing that Dumbledore was referring to the awful beasts he was having the fourth years care for this year, Blast-Ended Skrewts. Our task, caring for Unicorns and their young, had been much more fun.

"My steeds require—er – forceful 'andling," she said doubtfully, turning up her nose. "Zey are very strong…"

Dumbledore assured her that Hagrid would be well up for the job, and bowed to Madame Maxime before ushering her and her students into the entrance hall. Now all of us were truly cold, and we shivered, staring into the sky again, awaiting a second carriage that would mark the arrival of the Durmstrang students.

Suddenly, an odd sound drifted to my ears, "Do you hear that?" I whispered to Charlie. She trained her ear as the sound grew louder. An odd sucking sound accompanied by a deep rumbling was coming from across the lake. Just as I was about to whisper this to Charlie, Lee Jordan from the Gryffindor line pointed at it.

"The lake!" he yelled. "Look at the lake!"

From where we were all standing at the top of the hill, we had a clear view of the water below us. The surface of the water had begun churning, and giant bubbles were rising to the surface before bursting at the top. Waves had begun lapping at the banks, and a whirlpool began to form in the middle as if all the water in the lake was being pulled out of a rather large drain.

First, a thin black pole began to rise from the eye of the whirlpool and grow taller and taller.

"I think it's a boat!" said Charlie.

She was right. Slowly, a great black ship emerged from the water, reflecting the silver moonlight. When it was completely above the water, it rocked slightly in the waves, and then began to glide across the surface towards us. Within minutes we heard the plop of an anchor being dropped in the water and the thud of a walkway being lowered onto the bank.

Students wearing thick bulky fur cloaks all disembarked from the ship, led by a man, who from afar looked a lot like Dumbledore in his silver fur. He had shorter silver hair though, and his white facial hair did not quite cover his pointed chin.

"Dumbledore!" he called in a raspy voice as he made his way up the hill. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

A genuine smile crossed Dumbledore's face, "Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff!"

He neared Dumbledore and then stopped, looking up at the castle smiling with yellow teeth, "Dear old Hogwarts. How good it is to be here, how good… Viktor, come along, into the warmth… you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold…"

My jaw dropped open as Karkaroff motioned one of his students forward. I had seen that awkward stature and thick black hair on the quidditch pitch just a few months before. I latched onto Charlie's arm, and stomped down on her foot.

"Ow!" she whispered, "What was that for?"

"Charlie," I hissed to her, trying to point without being too obvious, "That's bloody Viktor Krum."

All throughout the feast, boys and girls from all years at Hogwarts were craning their necks to try and get a better look at Krum, who had settled himself alongside the rest of the Durmstrang students at the Slytherin table. I was definitely one of them, leaning this way and that, trying to see around Charlie. Several girls had searched their robes for a quill in hopes of getting an autograph, but it seems like no one had worked up the courage to approach the best quidditch player in the world.

I was starstruck. I'd had no idea that he was still in school, and now here I sat, eating dinner in the same room as the person who'd caught the snitch at the World Cup. Ideas were running through my head at a kilometer a minute, of the best way to casually introduce myself to him. He wasn't exactly handsome or anything, I just wanted to shake his hand mostly, maybe play a pick up match of quidditch.

I almost laughed at myself. Who was I kidding? Victor Krum didn't want to play quidditch with me.

The Beauxbatons students had settled themselves amongst the Ravenclaw students at their table, but none of them looked particularly happy to be there. Some were glancing around with an expression of slight disgust settled onto their faces. Others just had their noses in the air as if everything was beneath them. There was one Beauxbatons girl who stood up and crossed to the Gryffindor table during the middle of the feast, that I could have sworn was one of the Veela from the Cup. Her beautiful silvery-blonde hair hung down to her waist, and her skin mirrored that of a porcelain doll. Her wide blue eyes shimmered every time she pulled her lips back over her even, white teeth. The only difference is she never turned into an evil bird-like creature, and she didn't have all of the men in the hall falling over themselves; although they all seemed to have their eyes on her.

Hagrid had joined the feast, twenty minutes after it began. He slid into an open seat at the staff table, which had been extended to include space for Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, and two familiar faces: Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch. They had joined us towards the end of the meal.

Now, all the plates had been cleared, and Dumbledore was rising to his feet again. Charlie bounced up and down in her seat across from me, and I couldn't help but share her excitement. In fact, it seemed like most of the Hall was sharing the feeling, as everyone was gazing up at Dumbledore expectantly.

"The moment has come," he said, smiling down at all of us, "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket-"

I frowned at this, only having heard casket used to refer to a box that you bury dead people in, but kept listening, assuming it was one of those Wizard things that I didn't understand.

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

The room erupted in applause for Bagman, presumably because of his past Quidditch History. Bagman smiled and waved back at us, while Crouch sat rigid and unsmiling.

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

He then requested that Filch bring forward the wooden chest, crusted in jewels that he had been holding, unnoticed, in the corner. The box was obviously very old, and I wondered if it had been around as long as the tournament itself.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," continued Dumbledore as he helped filch gently place the chest on the table in front of 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."

It seemed like everyone in the room was holding their breath. It was so silent that I swore you could have heard a quill hit the ground.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," he went on, "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."

The old bearded wizard then took his wand and tapped it lightly three times on the top of the chest. The lid swung slowly open and Dumbledore reached inside it. He pulled out a large, battered, wood cup that was filled to the top with blue and white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and carefully lowered the goblet on top of it for all of us to see. We all stared in wonder.

"Anyone wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," he continued his monolog. "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 this 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 obligated 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 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."