Pyotr was shivering, standing in the cold Northern air outside the grand front doors of his school. He had watched anxiously as the Hogwarts stagecoaches landed on the grass to his right, and the gigantic blue Beuxbatons carriage bounced to a stop to his left. The three awkward groups of students stood freezing outside the castle, while their Headmasters greeted each other.
"Aleksandrov!" The Beuxbatons Headmistress, a petite but elegant olive-skinned woman said to the Headmaster. "It is so good to see you after all this time. I hope you are well? The students all behaving accordingly? Not teaching them too much dark magic, are you? The Tournament will be awfully unfair if you have." She said in an almost indistinguishable French accent, speaking lightning fast. The Hogwarts headmaster hadn't said anything yet, he was examining the school and its grounds with apparent mild disgust. Hogwarts must be really spectacular, Pyotr thought, If he doesn't like the Durmstrang fortress. The turrets towered in to the sky piercing the clouds, and apart from the slightly crumbling walls, the building was magnificent.
Headmaster Aleksandrov smiled. "Madame," he nodded at her. "I am well, thank you. Now, I invite all of you," he said, indicating the group of Hogwarts students whose teeth you could practically hear chattering, "Inside."
The wave of students flowed inside the huge oak doors, rushing to get out of the cold and in to the Dining Hall full of warm food. All of the students sat according to their age at Durmstrang, but extra tables had been conjured up for the new students, so they could all sit together. Pyotr sat in his usual spot in the back corner of the hall with all the other seventh years. He was surveying the new students, sizing up those he thought likely to enter in the Tournament and therefore potential opponents.
He saw a few rowdy older boys wearing red and gold ties arguing loudly and physically at the end of a table, a few Beaxbatons girls with ridiculous headdresses talking animatedly about something, a very fat Hogwarts student eating a slice of pie like a pig, and a few students sitting alone, given a wide berth by all the others. One was a nerdy looking dark-haired Hogwarts girl who had to be about 16, with horrible oval glasses, another a very beautiful younger girl from Beuxbatons wearing threadbare robes that looked like rags, and a Hogwarts boy wearing green lined robes with thin scars running down his face. None of them looked likely to enter the Triwizard Tournament, except for the boy with the scars. Pyotr flinched. He would need the money.
He spotted some of the Hogwarts students eyeing the stone cutlery and plates apprehensively. Pyotr understood why. He had been to Hogwarts for the last Triwizard Tournament, and their kitchenware was made of gold, inset with precious stones. He knew several of the older boys had stolen a goblet or two.
"Students! From Durmstrang, Hogwarts and Beuxbatons alike!" Headmaster Aleksandrov shouted, commanding everyone's attention. "The Triwizard Tournament is upon us! So now let me answer your burning questions. I know you are all wondering how one might choose the three champions. For that purpose, there was developed a legendary object in the late 1200s, known as the Goblet of Fire. This Goblet shall be placed in the entrance hall, and everyone wishing to enter should write their name and school on a piece of parchment and place it in to the flame. The enchantments will ensure that it is not burnt." There was a hum of excited chatter. "Now, our kind servants shall bring in our food, and you can all do what you have so been longing, and eat."
Pyotr smiled at the look of surprise on the international students faces as the Imps waddled in, holding plates of food above their heads. They had been bound to serve the ancient founder of Durmstrang, Nerida Vulchanova. The Imps placed a meal in front of each student, and those who were kind enough to say thank you were only met with grumbles as the sly little creatures went off to do their cleaning duties around the fortress. Pyotr grabbed his fork and began to eat, still keeping an eye on the visitors. He was definitely going to put his name in the Goblet, he had already decided, and the news that it was a cup full of flames that would be deciding his fate was not much of a shock to Pyotr or any of the other children his age, because they had all seen the Triwizard Tournament before.
As he ate he thought about what challenges the champions might need to face. Slaying a dragon? Navigating a maze? Rescuing something from…underwater? A fire? Being chained and surrounded? He had no idea. Pyotr continued to ignore the people trying to get him to speak to them, and that kid Radko again, shouting his name.
He kept an eye on the nerdy girl he had spotted before. She just looked so lonely, and in truth he found her quite attractive, apart from the glasses. Pyotr made a plan. Tonight, he would put his name in the Goblet. When no one could see. And when his name got picked out, the others would regret every time they teased him or tried to provoke him. And his father might love him again. Maybe.