Raylynx's POV
September faded away beautifully into October. As the sun began to set earlier and earlier, Quincy glowed more and more brightly in the darker evenings, as it to offset the coming winter.
Since I'd fed him the Cherry wood chips, I'd gone on a bit of an experimental run and fed him many different types of wood chips. After a few weeks, I discovered that Quincy's favorites were Cherry, Chestnut, and Acacia. On the other hand, Cypress made him grumpy, Pacific Silver Fir made him burpy, and White Pine made him a bit drunk.
The afternoon I'd fed him Pacific Silver Fir, Quincy seemed to enjoy it well enough. But when I brought him out of his tank for his daily romp around in my bedroom, he immediately burped and a small fireball decimated my cloak cuff. Startled, I'd dropped him onto the bed. But Quincy only burped again, and the edge of my cotton pillow cover caught on fire. Quincy stared up at me guiltily, but even as he did, he burped yet again. Clearly, it was uncontrollable. I'd hurriedly grasped him and put him back in his cage. As I did, I remembered Sirius' words: "How's Quincy? He hasn't set your room on fire or anything?"
Quincy burped yet again. He looked alarmed at himself. Embarrassed, he buried himself under his log and wouldn't come out until the burps had subsided.
Finally, he crawled out, looking quite tired.
"You all right?" I asked him.
He blinked twice, slowly.
"Good," I sighed, relieved. "We don't speak a word of this."
Quincy nodded his little head, firmly agreeing: We don't speak a word of this.
I reached into the case and carefully petted him to sleep before I had to leave for my next class.
As for the evening I'd fed him White Pine, I'd come back from dinner to see him twirling around in circles, slowly chasing around his own tail, until he ran smack into the glass wall of his tank and falling over with his tongue stuck out of his mouth. I'd frantically brought him down to Hagrid's, who examined him. I'd anxiously wrung my hands until Hagrid pronounced him, "drunk."
"What?" I said, sure I had misheard him.
"Little fella's drunk," Hagrid said, chuckling. "He'll be fine after a snooze."
And then, Quincy's all-time favorite was, in fact, the Alder that had caused a bit of a distraction during Harry's and my Floo conversation with Sirius. Alder allowed Quincy to breath more powerful fire, and he loved it. It made him feel like a real dragon. He was so proud of himself, roaring like a baby dragon of old. I, on the other hand, did not love it because it put my entire room at risk of being lit aflame, but Quincy would sometimes beg, standing on his hind four legs and rubbing his front little paws together whenever I was anywhere near the bag filled with Alder wood chips. It was hard to reason with him about it, since fire was so inherently his nature – and it was even harder to resist his cute emotional appeals.
About two weeks into October, an announcement in the Great Hall set the school abuzz. It said:
"TriWizard Tournament:
The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock on Friday the 30th of October. Lessons will end half an hour early. Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet out guests before the Welcoming Feast."
As I read the poster, I thought to myself, Hm, half an hour early… I have my sixth years then. I'll have to make sure I accommodate for that in my notes.
But as it turned out, that was not all I had to accommodate for.
In the following week, all the students could talk about was the TriWizard Tournament. And somehow, my name came up.
On Friday, October 30th, at the very start of class, Fred and George walked in and made a beeline straight for me.
"Professor, you've been holding out on us!" Fred cried out indignantly.
"Holding out?" I said blankly. I was more than a little surprised that Fred and George had approached me at the beginning of the class, when other students were filtering in or already sitting at their desks. The twins were always playful, but never disrespectful. In fact, they always seemed to take extra care to only approach me once the other students had left the classroom. But today, they addressed me right away.
Before I could ask them what was wrong, Fred brandished an old newspaper in front of my face. "I found this in the school archives!"
"What…?" Fred's exuberant flashing of the paper made it impossible for me to actually read it.
However, there was no need to read it, as George remarked loudly, "You were TriWizard Champion!"
The usual rustle and bustle of students settling in suddenly died away entirely. I noticed Cedric, who was sitting quietly and looking over his notes before class, look up with interest. But he wasn't the only one. All at once, a lot of bright and curious faces were looking up at me.
"Sixteen years ago, you were selected as Hogwarts Champion, and you won," Fred said energetically, as though he was telling me something that I had never heard before.
"Er, yes, Fred, George, if you could perhaps take your seats…" I said awkwardly, suffering from an intense bout of embarrassment. I abruptly felt young and bumbling all over again.
"But…" Fred started, gaping at me with an open mouth. "How could you not tell us about this?"
"Professor Kingsley said to sit! So sit." Angelina Johnson's tough voice rang out. She was sitting two seats over from Cedric.
Fred suddenly blushed, too. He slowly turned away from me, and George followed. I paused, wondering if Fred had just been embarrassed because of Angelina's calling him out, or because… well, because Angelina had been calling him out. I could see it immediately. Fred was forever running circles around other people, charming them with his humor and almost subversive wit. But Angelina was as strong-willed and straightforward a person I'd ever met, and she simply would not have any of his nonsense. It made Fred more aware of himself, and feel more vulnerable because he couldn't fall back on his usual methods of charming people. I smiled to myself a little before looking out over my class and saying, "Right. We've got a shorter class than usual today, so let's get right into it."
I launched into my lecture enthusiastically, comparing coded Ancient Runes in Egyptian and Anglo-Saxon Runes. I drew out the fundamentals of interlocking grid mechanisms, leading the class through the telltale signs of such a code in both Egyptian and Anglo-Saxon Runes. Keeping my eyes on the clock, I wrapped up with five minutes left of our shortened class session.
"Any questions?" I asked the class.
Lee Jordan's hand shot up.
"Yes, Mr. Jordan?"
"So, did you have to duel against the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang Champions last time?"
I sighed. The entire class perked up, however - even those in the back, who had been dozing off or doodling.
"You have to duel with the other school champions?" someone shouted out eagerly.
"No," I said firmly. "No, you do not."
"And it wasn't Beauxbatons and Durmstrang last time," I told him. "They were different schools."
"And?" Lee asked eagerly.
"And nothing," I told him, grimacing, but also slightly amused. "I'm not going to tell you anything. It will ruin the surprise."
"Besides," I said, talking over the sudden groans from my students, "you'll see for yourself in thirty minutes. So. Off you go. We'll start with a brief review next class to compensate for the rush today."
The entire class rose like a flock of birds rising off the ground and into the sky, overly eager to be rid of their bookbags and run down to the front grounds to see the schools arrive.
I kipped down to the staff room for a cup of tea before I had to make my way down to the grounds. I was not the only one there, though. In fact, it seemed that the teachers themselves were highly anticipating the schools' arrival, and nearly every professor was crammed into the staffroom, talking loudly amongst themselves.
Upon seeing me, Flitwick chirped out, "Ah! And if it isn't our very own TriWizard Champion!"
"Oh, yes…" I murmured, suddenly not wanting a cup of tea at all. Unexpectedly, the parched-throat condition is looking like a highly desirable feeling.
I caught Moody's eye swivel towards me. He grinned, sensing my discomfort at being called out by Flitwick.
At that moment, McGonagall rushed in, looking harried. "Heads of Houses, please come at once! The students are gathering at the steps."
I made to stay behind, but spotting me trying to duck behind Professor Sinistra (who was a whole head taller than me), McGonagall immediately grabbed my arm and ushered me out. "Help me shepherd the Gryffindors, Raylynx," she said breathlessly, tugging me along. "It's a mass of misbehaving monkeys."
I laughed a little at her phrasing, but when we reached the top of the stairs at the grand entrance, I realized she was completely right. Everyone was chatting loudly, and they were pushing and pulling each other, trying to get to the front of the crowd.
"Weasley, straighten your hat," McGonagall snapped at Ron.
A moment later, I heard her say, "And Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."
Parvati Patil scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.
"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front… no pushing…"
We filed down the steps together. As I walked down besides McGonagall, I caught Harry's eye. He grinned at me. The excitement was plain on his face. For the first time since everybody had started talking about the TriWizard Tournament, I felt a little bit lighter. If it's making Harry happy, then I don't mind it so much. I guess it is exciting if you think about it. I'm just unreasonably bitter about it happening again…
Once we were outside, we all lined up in front of the castle. I saw Snape looking over the Slytherins, swooping between students like an overgrown bat to make sure that they were all behaving appropriately. As six o'clock neared, all of us professors fell back to join Dumbledore in the very back row.
As evening began to set in, the air turned brisk. Visibility was perfect. A pale, transparent-looking moon began to gleam out over the Forbidden Forest. Then, I saw it – a flying carriage.
"Headmaster…" I murmured.
"Yes, Professor Kingsley?"
"Isn't that the Beauxbatons carriage?" I asked.
At my words, the closest Professors – McGonagall, Vector, and Flitwick – all looked up into the sky.
Dumbledore nodded and announced to the waiting crowd of students, "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"
"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.
"Merlin, you have good eyesight," Professor Vector murmured to me, taking off her spectacles to clean them on her robes.
"There!" Alicia Spinnet yelled, pointing over the forest.
"It's a dragon!" someone screeched wildly.
Besides me, Dumbledore chuckled.
"Don't be stupid. It's a flying house!" another student yelled back.
I heard Hermione snort and say, "Isn't it obvious? It's a carriage."
And so it was. An enormous, pale blue carriage was soaring through the air, pulled by a dozen winged horses as large as elephants.
The horses shifted their wings, flying lower and lower until – with an almighty crash, the horses and the carriage hit ground. The horses trotted up to the castle. Then, finally, the carriage rolled to a stop.
The carriage door carried the Beauxbatons emblem: two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars. My eyes lingered on it for just a moment before the door popped open, and Madame Maxine appeared. Dressed head to toe in black satin, and with many magnificent opals adorning her neck and fingers, she looked stunning.
Dumbledore began to clap, and the professors and students quickly followed suit.
Madame Maxine strode up to Dumbledore, extending her hand.
Dumbledore kissed the back of her hand. "My dear Madame Maxime," he greeted her. "Welcome to Hogwarts."
"Dumbledore," she replied, "I hope I find you well?"
"In excellent form, I thank you," Dumbledore said, smiling.
Madame Maxine gestured behind her and announced, "My pupils."
I looked behind her to see a group of a little over a dozen boys and girls, clearly sixth and seventh years, emerging from the carriage. Their robes were made of fine silk, and a few of them had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. They gazed around at the Hogwarts castle and the Hogwarts students with varying levels of apprehension and curiosity.
"Has Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxine asked.
"Not quite, but he should be here at any moment," Dumbledore responded. Noticing that the Beauxbatons students were shivering in their fine silk outfits, Dumbledore asked, "Would you like to step inside and warm up a trifle?"
Madame Maxine nodded graciously. She started to turn away, but then she paused and said, "The horses…"
"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," Dumbledore informed her, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."
I saw Harry and Ron grin at each other. Though I didn't know it, they were thinking of the Blast-Ended Skrewts that had been growing uncontrollably large as of late.
"My steeds require – er – forceful handling, and they drink only single-malt whiskey."
"We will inform Hagrid of such," Dumbledore replied, with a slight bow.
Madame Maxine nodded, and she turned away again. Then, her eyes fell on me, as I was standing a little way to Dumbledore's left.
"Ah, Professor Kingsley," she recognized.
"Welcome, Madame Maxine," I said respectfully.
"Professor Kingsley," Dumbledore suddenly broke in, "if you would be so kind, could you accompany Madame Maxine and her students to the castle? I've already told Filch that they are expected, however -"
I nodded.
"Thank you."
I looked up at Madame Maxine, who gave me a brief nod, indicating that I should lead the way up to the castle.
After a moment, she said, "It must be exciting, no? To see the TriWizard Tournament happening again…"
"All the more exciting to be a spectator," I assured her, revealing my honest feelings before thinking it through.
Fortunately, she laughed.
Filch was waiting for us. He led the way to the Great Hall.
"Sit wher'ver you want," he mumbled.
The Beauxbatons students looked to their Headmistress for guidance. She swept her hand gracefully in front of her and said, "Choose."
The students gravitated towards the familiar blue color of Ravenclaw.
"Madame Maxine, the staff table is at the very front," I told her.
She nodded. "Then, I will take my seat."
However, I waited besides the doors of the Great Hall for everyone else to arrive. Filch shot me a disparaging look. "I'm already manning the doors. I don't need help for this."
"There's plenty of room for both of us," I replied neutrally.
When he glowered at me, I said, "Oh, come on. I'd feel strange sitting up there all by myself."
His expression didn't change, but he relented and let me stand beside him.
Fortunately, it was only a few minutes later when the Hogwarts and Durmstrang students arrived.
Contrary to his words, Filch was immediately overrun by the hodgepodge of Hogwarts students all trying to find their way to the tables. As a result, by the time Filch had located the Durmstrang students he was supposed to lead, they'd all sat down at the Slytherin table already.
Filch's eyes met mine, and his brow narrowed as he caught my smiling face. I hurriedly left his side and followed the flow of students down the table and to the staff table, where Flitwick, Sprout, and Sinistra were already sitting. There were four extra chairs at the staff table today, courtesy of Filch. The chairs were for: Barty Crouch Snr., Ludo Bagman, Madame Maxine, and Karkaroff.
Speaking of Karkaroff – I heard his voice just behind my shoulder as he, too, was trying to make his way through the throng of students and reach the staff table.
"Pardon me," he began greasily, but when he saw my face, he stopped. A most unpleasant expression distorted his features.
"Pardon you?" I repeated in a low whisper. "You did that for yourself."
I turned my back on him and walked up to the staff table. I could feel Karkaroff's furious gaze burning into my back.
Finally, everyone had been settled in. Dumbledore stood up, and a silence fell over the Great Hall. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly – guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."
"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!" He sat down.
Promptly, a glorious feast appeared before us. In addition to our usual dishes, foreign dishes had also been curated to appease our guests.
Sitting between Professors Sinistra and Vector, I tried to erase my unpleasant run-in with Karkaroff from my mind (which was difficult because I could hear his simpering voice as he tried to engage Dumbledore in a conversation) and focus on chatting with Sinistra and Vector and making the most of this incredible feast.
About partway through, when I was feeling very stuffed, I saw the back door of the Great Hall open, and Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Snr. walked in. Bagman greeted Dumbledore like an old friend. Barty Crouch gave a more formal greeting. Crouch's eyes swept up and down the table. When he spotted me, he frowned slightly, but did nothing except sit down at his seat. I noticed Mad-Eye stiffen slightly a few seats away from Crouch, but neither of them greeted each other.
The second course arrived, filled with delicious deserts. I groaned about how full I was as I piled my plate.
"No one's making you eat, Raylynx," Vector told me.
"Oh, but whining while continuing to eat is half the fun of feasts," I replied, smiling.
About ten minutes later, feeling pleasantly stuffed, I washed down my meal with a goblet of wine.
Then, once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. "The moment has come," he announced. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, 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 and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
There was a round of applause for both men, and a few intense Quidditch fans who recognized Ludo from his old days as a professional Beaters let out a few appreciate cheers. Bagman raised his hand, chuckling.
"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."
Turning to Filch, Dumbledore said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
Filch brought forth a sizeable wooden chest encrusted with jewels. He laid it down on a table set up before Dumbledore.
"As you know, three champions – one from each school – will compete in the tournament," Dumbledore explained, "The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
Dumbledore drew out his wand and tapped it three times on top of the casket. The lid creaked open. Dumbledore gave a soft wave of his wand, and the Goblet of Fire – a large, roughly hewn wooden goblet filled to the brim with dancing blue-white fire – rose into the air.
Dumbledore closed the casket and gently brought the goblet down with his wand so that it stood on top of the casket.
"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," said Dumbledore. "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."
"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "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."
My eyes flickered over to a pair of red-headed twins, who seemed to be whispering excitedly to each other.
"Finally," Dumbledore went on, "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 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," he said, suddenly returning to his usual, brisk, and cheerful manner of speaking, "I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all!"
I quickly made my way from the staff table, trying to catch Fred and George and persuade them not to try anything. But of course, the sea of students stopped me from moving too fast. By the time I had reached the entrance of the Great Hall, they had already slipped out.
At that moment, there was somewhat of a three-way traffic jam at the entrance. Karkaroff, who was speaking to Viktor Krum, a Durmstrang student and the most promising Seeker of his generation, had reached the doors at the same time as not only myself, but also Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry stepped back, and I also paused.
"Thank you," Karkaroff said carelessly. He glanced at Harry as he began to step by him. Then, he froze. He slowly turned and looked at Harry. His eyes quickly searched for his scar. Finding it, Karkaroff's eyes widened and his gaze remained fixed on Harry's scar.
"Excuse me," I snapped, and stepped in front of Harry. "It's rude to stare."
Just then, an amused chuckle rang out behind all of us. Karkaroff, Harry, and I all turned to see Mad-Eye standing behind us. His magical eye glared unblinkingly at Karkaroff as he remarked, "Yeah, that's Harry Potter."
"You!" Karkaroff growled, staring both in anger and fear at Mad-Eye.
"Me," Moody replied. Then, he remarked, "Unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you'd better move. You're blocking the doorway."
Indeed, we were all gathered right at the entrance of the Great Hall.
Karkaroff glared at Moody for a moment longer, then with one last disgusted glance at me, he swept off. His students followed behind him.
I gently brought Harry to the side of the Great Hall. Hermione and Ron followed us, too.
"Are you all right?" I asked him.
"Yeah," Harry said. "He was just looking at my scar. Honestly, I think he was more put off by Professor Moody than by me…"
"True," I relented. "I'm sorry. I suppose I overreacted."
"Do you know Headmaster Karkaroff?" Hermione inquired, looking at me curiously. "I mean, from before this Tournament."
"You seem to really dislike him," Ron blurted out.
Hermione gave him a "did-you-really-have-to-say-it-like-that?" look, but all three of them looked up at me.
I hesitated. I do want Harry to know that Karkaroff used to be a Death Eater, but I'm afraid that it'll completely ruin his feeling of safety while at Hogwarts and his excitement for the upcoming Tournament.
Besides, I thought, here is not the place to tell him. There are still loads of students and professors around.
Finally, I said, "There is a history, but now is not the time. Just be careful around him, all right?"
Harry was still, understandably, quite puzzled. But he nodded. I reached out and squeezed his shoulder. Then, I bid the three of them good night, and left the Great Hall.
The next morning, when I pulled back the curtains from my window, yawning and stretching, I noticed a new addition to the Great Lake – a ship. It bobbed lightly in the Great Lake as the early morning wind blew through the grounds. Its dark wood color gleamed an almost rusty red in the first light of the morning sun.
I brought Quincy over to the window and dropped him on the windowsill so he could look at the ship. He hissed excitedly.
"No," I told him, "you can't burn down the whole ship and eat it."
He gave a little spurt of fire, as though to laugh at my silly suggestion.
As I pulled on my robes, I saw Quincy leap up and put his front feet on the window.
"What is it?" I asked him, coming over to the window. I peered out and saw that the Durmstrang students, led by Karkaroff, were coming out from the ship and across the plank.
"Oh," I realized. "They must be staying on the ship. They're probably coming down for breakfast, and to put their names in the Goblet of Fire."
Quincy perked up. I could see him thinking, A Goblet of Fire? Sounds delicious.
"You want to see it?" I asked him, offering him the back of my hand. "But only look! No tasting."
Quincy leapt excitedly onto my hand, and I took him down with me to the Great Hall.
Fortunately, I arrived during a lull in the crowd of students making their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. I was able to bring Quincy right up to the Goblet of Fire. His eyes widened as he took in the dancing blue flames. He stood stock still, his tail high in the air, as he was mesmerized by the magical fire. Then, faster than I could blink, his tongue zapped out and he tasted the fire coming out of the Goblet.
"Hey!" I scolded him. "What did I say -?"
An irritated and arrogant voice interrupted my scolding Quincy. "Would you mind moving out of the way? This Tournament is for students."
Quincy quickly scurried up my sleeve and hung onto the crook in the inside of my elbow.
I turned around to see Karkaroff standing behind me. As it was, all of the Durmstrang students were waiting on me, needing me to move in order to submit their names into the Goblet. Knowing that I was probably in the wrong here and not wanting to cause a scene, I stepped away from the Goblet, moving slowly to make sure Quincy didn't fall off of my arm inside my cloak.
I went back upstairs to place Quincy back inside his enclosure before coming back down for breakfast. "You think about what you did," I said sternly to Quincy, who looked up at me with the mesmerizing vision of the Goblet's blue flames still dancing in his eyes.
I shook my head and made my way back down to the Great Hall for breakfast. By then, all of the Durmstrang students had submitted their names into the Goblet of Fire for consideration.
When I sat at the staff table for breakfast, my owl, Artemis, flew in and dropped a letter on my toast. Artemis fluttered down onto my shoulder. I fed him a piece of toast and stroked his feathers. He allowed me a few pets, but then took off, soaring out of the Great Hall with his beautiful wings outstretched. I picked up the letter. My name was looped across the envelope in garish bright green ink. I frowned slightly as I opened the letter, unaware of any friends or family with such handwriting… or such an affinity for bright green ink. In fact, the entire letter had been written in green ink. My eyes immediately flickered down to the name at the bottom of the letter: Rita Skeeter.
Rita Skeeter…? A vague, unpleasant memory of a journalist, who had once sat in front of me, cross-legged, and disappointed with my uncertain answers, arose in my mind.
I scanned the letter. It essentially requested an interview to "talk about the thrilling dangers and promises of fame associated with being the Champion of the Tournament." I snorted and shoved the letter back into the envelope.
I had just about finished my breakfast when I heard a great shout of laughter outside the doors of the Great Hall. I chugged the remainder of my pumpkin juice and then made my way out of the Great Hall. Dumbledore followed behind me, with his eyes twinkling, as he already knew full well what was going on.
I looked curiously over the heads of the many students before me to see Fred and George Weasley wrestling each other with beards on their faces.
"Er - Isn't that Fred and George? What happened?" I said, confused.
"They tried to - tried to submit their names into the - the Goblet!" Lee Jordan managed to choke me between his bouts of uncontrollable laughter. He pointed at Fred and George and howled with laughter. "Look at their beards! And look at these old men go!"
George's indignant voice rang out, "You said -!"
"No, you said -!" Fred retorted back, and reaching out, he grasped George's beard and yanked at it.
"Ow!" George cried out. "Mother of - ! Oh, you want to go, huh? You want to fight this out?"
Around them, the students chanted excitedly, "Fight! Fight! Fight!"
I sighed.
Then, somebody shouted, "Hush! Dumbledore's here!"
Everyone turned to see Dumbledore standing just a few steps behind me. He addressed Fred and George with a most amused smile, "I did warn you." His blue eyes twinkled merrily. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to other students who attempted the same thing. Though I must say, nobody's beard has been anywhere near as fine as yours."
Fred's eyes flickered over to me. I shook my head at him. He grinned.
"C'mon then, you pair of knobby-knees," Lee said, and wiping tears of merriment from his eyes, he grabbed both Fred and George by their arms and marched them off to the hospital wing. Dumbledore chuckled as he watched them go.
That evening, everyone gathered in the Great Hall for the selection of the Champions. Filch had moved the Goblet of Fire into the Great Hall. As it was Halloween night, there was another glorious feast, but for once, everyone was impatient to get through the food. During dinner, Crouch and Bagman appeared, having come after a full day of working at the Ministry. They sat besides Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime up at the staff's table. There were only two seats left at the other end of the table. Mad-Eye was seated at the current "end" of the line of professors. I took the seat next to him.
Mad-Eye grunted at me as I sat down.
"You excited for the Champion Selection, Mad-Eye?" I asked him by way of small talk.
As he gave me a wry smile, the scar running down and face and through his upper lip curled up in a most amused way. "Of course," he replied.
I smiled back. Mad-Eye couldn't care less about the Tournament. This is all a joke to him. He just wants to teach to fulfill his duty to Dumbledore, and then get the hell out of here.
After that, Moody and I didn't make any more conversation. Just before the feast started, however, the last remaining seat on my right was occupied – by none other than Snape. I scowled a little, but mostly just turned away from him. Snape, as usual, simply paid no attention to me whatsoever.
For what it's worth, I did find Snape more tolerable to sit next to on Halloween night, presumably because my mind associated him with the many festive skeleton decorations hung up around the Great Hall, and I found some (admittedly quite dark) humor in that. However, as dinner went on, and we got closer and closer to the selection of the champions, I suddenly felt very grateful to be sitting between two people who I didn't need to make small talk with. Because I didn't want to talk. A growing anxiety clammed up my throat and restricted my chest. I kept remembering how it had felt when my name was called out as Hogwarts' Champion. I had been fully unprepared, so instead of feeling proud, I'd felt completely boggled, almost like I'd accidentally missed a step on the stairs without actually falling.
You're not competing anymore, so stop being foolish, I told myself. This is supposed to be exciting, and fun. What are you getting all anxious about? I tried to focus on finishing off my food instead, keeping my eyes down and away from the Goblet of Fire.
However, when the Goblet of Fire's blue flames began to grow brighter, Dumbledore rose from his seat. "The Goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute."
"Now, he announced, peering out at the sea of eager students, "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, where they will be receiving their first instructions."
He stretched out his hand at shoulder-height and then slowly lowered it, causing all of the candles except the ones inside the floating carved pumpkins to go out. At almost the same moment, the Goblet's dancing blues flames seared, momentarily turning a brilliant white. Many students squinted; still others had to look away from the sheer brightness of the Goblet's flames. I was clutching onto the stem of my cup, filled with red wine, so hard that my palm was sweaty.
Noticing how unreasonably tense I was, Snape gave me a single look of disdain before turning his gaze back to the Goblet.
The Goblet's flames suddenly turned a merry, bright red. Sparks flew out of it. Dumbledore stepped down from the staff table and approached the Goblet, ready to receive the names that the Goblet had decided upon.
Finally, a tongue of flame, like a whip of fire, lashed out into the air. A charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it. The students gasped in unison.
Dumbledore gracefully caught the small piece of parchment. Then, he opened his hand and read aloud, "The Durmstrang Champion – Viktor Krum!"
The entire hall whooped and cheered.
Krum rose from the Slytherin table. He walked up to Dumbledore, shook his hand, and then strode past the staff table to disappear through the door into the next chamber.
As the cheers died down, the Goblet released another spurt of fire, and a second piece of paper flew out of it.
Dumbledore once again swiped it out of the air. Then, he announced, "The Beauxbatons Champion – Fleur Delacour!"
A girl with beautiful silver-blonde hair and a charming face leapt to her feet. She smiled and graciously took in all of the admiring applause with little bows of her head as she approached Dumbledore and shook his head. Then, she too disappeared into the next chamber.
Finally, it was time for the Hogwarts Champion to be announced… The Goblet of Fire produced another tongue of flame and released the third and final name. Dumbledore caught the slip of paper. He looked down at it and then called out, "The Hogwarts Champion – Cedric Diggory!"
The Hufflepuff table roared with glee. They were so joyful, for Hufflepuff had long been overlooked despite it's unshakeable strength, and they were also very proud because they truly thought that Cedric was the best representative. Slowly, I relaxed. That's it, then, I thought, as I watched Cedric grin bashfully at his friends before walking up to Dumbledore. We have our Champions – all stars of their respective schools prior to the Tournament, I'm sure. And all of age. I finally let out a long breath.
As Cedric disappeared, Dumbledore faced the crowd, beaming. "Excellent! 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 - "
Suddenly, Snape stiffened besides me.
I glanced over at him, wondering if he'd put his hand down on his fork or something. But, he seemed fixated on something in front of him. In fact, he slowly rose from his seat, his gaze not moving an inch from what was in front of him – the Goblet of Fire.
"What are you…?" I began to ask him. But as my eyes traced his line of sight, I realized exactly what.
The Goblet's flames had just turned red again. Sparks flew out of it once more. My jaw dropped as yet another piece of parchment – a fourth piece of parchment – flew up into the air. As it began to drop, it gave a single flourish in the air before Dumbledore seized it.
Everyone was stunned.
Ludo Bagman was half out of his chair with shock. I, too, had risen from my seat, still clutching my cup painfully tight. A fourth name? How can this be? And more importantly – who?
Dumbledore stared intently at the parchment in his hand. The tension in the room was so heavy that it seemed physically palpable, as though all the air in the Great Hall had been sucked out, forcing us into a vacuum with a pressure level not unlike a black hole's.
I waited with bated breath. The restraint in my throat and chest had reached an all-time high. I felt like I was choking.
Dumbledore gazed for another moment at the slip of parchment in his hand. Then, he cleared his throat and read out – "Harry Potter."
The cup slipped from my hand, crashed onto the table, and shattered. Wine began to spread across the table cloth, staining the white fabric a deep blood red.
a/n:
to Caroline 4rbes: Thank you so much! :)
to Momochan77: I can't respond to your comment without giving too much away, but yes - wait and see! It did have to happen eventually. Sirius cares too much for his brother to not find out what happened to him (and it's canon that Sirius did find out some things about Regulus' death). Anyways, I hope there will be some fun surprises and twists and turns in the chapters ahead. Thank you for your comment and for your excitement!