The Hogwarts students were all chatting about Krum as they were led into the castle. Dudley heard some girls saying how they wanted to get his autograph.
"I bet he's gonna be their champion," Dean said as they sat down.
"Makes being the Hogwarts champion even better, doesn't it?" Dudley said. "Imagine, the chance to beat Viktor Krum. That'll make it even more impressive."
"There's no guarantee it will be him," Hermione said, irritably. "Just because he's good at quidditch, doesn't mean he's a skilled wizard."
"He must be if they've brought him along," Dean pointed out.
Hermione had no response to that.
Ron swore under his breath. The Durmstrang students had seated themselves at the Slytherin table. As they watched, Malfoy leant forward to speak to Krum.
"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," said Ron scathingly. "I bet Krum can see right through him, though...bet he gets people fawning over him all the time...Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Dudley...I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."
Hermione snorted.
"Maybe I should beat Malfoy up again, in front of Krum?" Dudley suggested.
"Dudley!" Hermione looked annoyed.
"It was a joke, Hermione," Dudley said, quickly. "He's not worth the bother."
Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion. Dudley was surprised to see that he added four chairs, two on either side of Dumbledore's.
"But there are only two extra people," Dudley said. "Why's Filch putting out four chairs, who else is coming?"
"Eh?" said Ron vaguely. He was still staring avidly at Krum.
When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."
One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.
"No one's making you stay!" Hermione whispered, bristling at her.
"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, and Dudley saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation.
The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Dudley had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.
Dudley stuck to the English food. Vernon had warned him about eating 'foreign rubbish'. He grabbed a steak and some roast potatoes and started to eat.
Partway through the meal, a very pretty girl with long, silvery-blonde hair came to their table.
"Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"
Ron stared at her for a few seconds. "Yeah, you can have it," he said, finally, his ears turning red.
"You 'ave finished wiz it?"
"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."
The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Dudley started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.
"She's a veela!" he said hoarsely to Dudley.
"Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"
But she wasn't entirely right about that. As the girl crossed the Hall, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.
"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"
"They make them okay at Hogwarts," said Dudley without thinking. Luna Lovegood happened to be sitting only a few places away from the girl with the silvery hair.
Hermione gave him a smug look.
"Shut it," Dudley said.
"I didn't say a word," she replied, still with that same infuriating smug smile on her face.
"What are you two on about?" Dean asked.
'Nothing," Dudley said quickly.
"When you've done flirting …" Ginny began.
"I'm not flirting!" Hermione hissed.
Dudley laughed, feeling thankful for Ginny for putting Hermione on the spot.
"… you'll notice who has just appeared," Ginny finished.
She was pointing up at the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime.
"What are they doing here?" said Dudley in surprise.
"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Hermione. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."
After the desserts were over, Dumbledore stood up to make a speech.
"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket -"
"The what?" Dudley muttered.
Ron shrugged.
"- just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - there was a smattering of polite applause - "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. Remembering him in his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, Dudley thought he looked strange in wizard's robes. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."
At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways.. their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."
At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.
Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," 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. 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," 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."
"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through 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."
"An Age Line!" Fred Weasley said, his eyes glinting, as they all made their way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance hall. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing - it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"
"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," said Hermione, "we just haven't learned enough..."
"Speak for yourself," said George shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Dudley?"
Dudley thought about winning the tournament and how impressed everybody would be. He imagined the admiring looks he would get from everybody. Rita Skeeter giving him an interview. His face on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Gilderoy Lockhart shaking his hand proudly. Dumbledore handing him the trophy. His father treating him to a day out as a reward and being proud of him.
"Definitely," he said, finally. "I wonder if the Age Line can detect invisibility cloaks?"
"Good man," Fred said, approvingly. "Ron? You're gonna try—we don't want another Percy on our hands."
"Yeah," Ron said. "I'll try the cloak with Dudley. I reckon it'll work."
They arrived at the door at the same time as Karkaroff. Dudley stood aside to let him and his students through first.
"Thank you," Karkaroff said, carelessly. He glanced at Dudley and passed through the door without a word.