Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! There's something I have to preface here and now, just so that no one is confused. From here on out, different languages will be used. To annotate this, I will be bolding the words in the sentences that use a language other than English. That's all I wanted to point out for the time being. Also...
Disclaimer: Save for the OC's, I have no ownership of HP
Chapter 16: The Ominous Goblet
"I don't believe it!" Ron said in a stunned voice, as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. "Krum, guys! Viktor Krum!"
"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said Hermione.
"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron said, looking at her as though he couldn't believe his ears. "Hermione - he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"
As they recrossed the entrance hall with the rest of the Hogwarts students heading for the Great Hall, Marcus saw Lee Jordan jumping up and down on the soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of Krum's head. Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked -
"Oh, I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me -"
"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"
"Really," Hermione said loftily as they passed the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick.
"I'm getting his autograph if I can," said Ron. "You haven't got a quill, have you, Marcus, Harry?"
"Nope, they're upstairs in my bag," said Harry.
"Same here," Marcus said.
They walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. While Marcus sat down next to Lorelei, Ron took care to sit on the side facing the doorway, because Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around it, apparently unsure about where they should sit. The students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.
"It's not that cold," said Hermione defensively. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?"
"Over here! Come and sit over here!" Ron hissed. "Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space -"
"What?"
"Too late," said Ron bitterly.
Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Marcus could see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looking very smug about this. As he watched, Malfoy bent 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, Marcus, Harry...I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."
Marcus was only half paying attention to Ron as he was talking. He was still looking at Viktor Krum, who was surveying the Great Hall until he glanced over the area where Marcus was sitting. He looked a little past him, then caught himself and looked straight at him. Marcus was then surprised to see Krum narrowing his eyes at him, the same kind of look Professor McGonagall would give if a student had failed to hand in an assignment and gave a horrible excuse.
"Is it just me, or is Viktor Krum actually giving you a death stare?" Lorelei asked, sounding perplexed.
"No, it's not just you," said Marcus, who sounded just as perplexed as Lorelei was.
Marcus turned his attention back to his group of friends just as Harry said, "They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot."
The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.
Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occassion. Marcus was a little confused to see that he added four chairs, two on either side of Dumbledore's.
"But there's only two extra people," Harry 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 students laughed, but Marcus understood it as a sign of respect for the Headmistress. It was also clear that they were quite disciplined, as they remained unfazed by the laughter of the students and didn't sit down 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 gentleman, 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 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 Marcus 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 Marcus had seen, including several that were foreign.
"What's that?" said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.
"Bouillabaisse," said Hermione.
"Bless you," said Ron.
"It's French," said Hermione, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."
"I'll take your word for it," said Ron, helping himself to black pudding.
The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep bloodred.
Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione with a very heavily bandaged hand.
"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called.
"Thrivin'," Hagrid called back happily.
"Yeah, I'll just bet they are," said Ron quietly. "Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers."
At that moment, a somehow familiar voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"
Marcus looked to see that it was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth. Marcus was very much caught off guard, not by her beauty, but how shockingly familiar she looked to him.
Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply,but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.
Eager to avoid any embarrassment, Marcus quickly gave the bouillabaisse to the Beauxbatons girl and said, "Here you go."
The Beauxbatons girl looked at Marcus and asked, "You 'ave finished wiz it?"
"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."
Seemingly satisfied with the rather drifty response, she turned to walk away with the bouillabaisse. However, she didn't take two steps away when she paused. Suddenly, she looked back at Marcus with a puzzled look on her face. She gave the bouillabaisse to Ron, went to stand in front of Marcus, and proceeded to kneel down so that her face was level with Marcus. Now that Marcus took another glance at her eyes, he thought for sure she looked very familiar...
Then, the Beauxbatons girl said, "Is it truly you, Mar-kees?"
The way this girl said his name suddenly triggered a flashback...
He didn't want to leave Paris, France. He was simply having too much fun with the pretty girl and didn't want to return.
However, his parents said that they weren't to stay, so he couldn't go against their wishes.
The young girl then cried out, "Remember our promise, Mar-kees! You will remember it, won't you?"
"Of course I will!" said Marcus. "We'll be together and even closer the next time we meet! You can count on that, Ms. Delacour!"
The name rung within his mind and, suddenly, all of his dreams regarding Paris finally connected and he was able to remember who the girl was. Her name was -
"Ms. Delacour?" said Marcus in a tone of disbelief.
The Beauxbatons girl gave a suppressed shrill of delight, hugged him out of nowhere, and said, "Oh, Mar-kees, 'cest manifique! I cannot belieze we truly meet again! I almost did not recognize zou with your snow white 'air, but there cannot be any doubt when I look into those eyes of joy! Zhere is so much to catch up on, Mar-kees, that I don't even know where to begin! Tomorrow, we should catch up, oui?"
"Oui, Madamoiselle Delacour," said Marcus, who was so baffled by the events of their sudden reunion that he couldn't do anything but give her a quick hug back.
She then grabbed the bouillabaisse back from Ron, whose jaw was dropped, turned back to Marcus with a pearly white smile and said, "I shall send someone for you when I am available, Mar-kees! See you tomorrow!"
She then blew him a kiss, which made Marcus blush heavily.
As soon as she was beyond hearing distance, Ron rounded on Marcus and said, "What the bloody hell, Marcus?! You didn't tell us you knew someone like her! I mean, look at her!" Ron then turned to the rest of the group and said, "She's a veela!"
"Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"
"I think you'll find that what you've said isn't entirely accurate," said Lorelei, who pointed to the effect happening in that moment. As Ms. Delacour was walking back to the Ravenclaw table, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.
"However," Lorelei continued, looking at Marcus, "I'm very curious as to how you know someone like her, Marcus. Would you mind telling us?"
Marcus looked between his friends to see their reactions. Harry's was largely of confusion, which was to be expected as his knowledge of the Wizarding World was still insufficient. Ron's was a mixture of disbelief and rather terrifying eagerness. Hermione's was of confusion, but also of inquireness, which was a little unsettling. However, Lorelei's startled him the most. Instead of the usual cheeriness and joy she conveyed, she was sporting a look of perception and rather terror-like, like seeing Ms. Delacour forced her to put her up on her utmost guard.
Marcus suddenly felt the death stares of all the nearby Hogwarts boys, as if it was blasphemous for him to be so familiar with a girl like her.
Getting rather irritated, Marcus focused on his dish and said, "Lorelei, I'll tell you later tonight."
"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 Harry.
"When the two of you have put your eyes back in," said Hermione briskly, "you'll be able to see who's just arrived."
She was pointing up at the staff table. Marcus, intent on keeping his focus on his dish, looked to see that 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 Harry in surprise.
"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Hermione. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."
When the second course arrived they noticed a number of unfamiliar desserts too. Ron examined an odd sort of pale blancmange closely, then moved it carefully a few inches to his right, so that it would be clearly visible from the Ravenclaw table. However, from what Marcus could tell, Ms. Delacour was so much involved in conversing with her fellow Beauxbatons classmates, giggling and giving occassional glances over to him, that it looked like she wouldn't be coming over to the Gryffindor table again.
Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Marcus could the excitement swirling in the air, such was the tension to see what was coming next. Several seats down from them, Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.
"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?" Harry muttered.
Both Ron and Marcus 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 likeable. 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, Marcus thought that he looked rather out of place wearing 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 quite ancient and, to Marcus, foreboding. 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.
"At this time, I'd like to introduce an additional, yet integral, person that will contribute to the success of this year's Triwizard Tournament, and will now explain the proceedings of the Triwizard Tournament," said Dumbledore. "Ladies and gentleman, Head of the Auror Department of the Ministry of Magic, Mr. Michael Williams."
When Marcus saw his father coming through the door behind the staff table and making his way to the casket, roars of applause blasted throughout the Great Hall, not only from the Hogwarts students, but from the Beauxbaton and Durmstrang students as well. Marcus never realized just how popular his dad was until that moment.
"Thank you, everyone," said Michael, who looked upon the crowd with a meager smile, which Marcus could tell was forced. "My task in this tournament is simple: I will be overseeing the safety of the champions in regards to the specific tasks, the instructions in which have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," he stated 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 year, and they will test the champions in many different ways...their magical prowress - 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 all may already know, three champions compete in the tournament," Michael went on calmly, "one representative each from the participating schools. They will be scored 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."
Michael then took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Michael 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.
As Marcus' father closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall, Marcus enhanced his vision and immediately blanched.
The Goblet of Fire appeared to be covered almost entirely in a pitch-black aura, which extended to the blue-white flames, which Marcus confirmed all along that his best course of action from that point until the champions were selected was to steer clear of the goblet as much as possible. His experiences with anything covered in a pitch-black aura were more than convincing enough to heed what he was able to see.
"Anyone that wishes to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," explained Michael. "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 make sure that no underage student foolishly puts their names up for contention," said Michael, gesturing to Dumbledore, "Professor Dumbledore 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 make what I'm about to tell you absolutely clear, so please pay close attention," said Michael with the utmost serious look on his face, which set Marcus on edge. "Your desire to enter the Triwizard Tournament should not and must not be one of a light-hearted nature. You must be prepared to devote yourself entirely to the hardships of representing your own school as champion, because should your name come forth from the Goblet of Fire, you will be obliged to see through to the end. Placing your name within it and the subsequent choosing will create a binding, magical contract, the likes of which cannot be broken. There is no backing out upon being chosen as your school champion, there will be no do-overs. If you do want to submit your names, please reflect upon my words and be sure that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. With this, I take my leave. Good luck to you all, aspiring champions!"
As Marcus' father went towards the same door he entered, the student body roared in applause once again. Marcus had no doubt why his father was as successful as he was, especially after hearing a speech like that.
"Thank you, Mr. Williams," Dumbledore said just as Michael was crossing the threshold of the door. "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, Harry, Marcus?"
"Absolutely not," said Marcus with such finality that Marcus was sure the subject of him being Hogwarts champion would be dropped.
However, Fred then said, "Oh, come on, don't be like that, old geezer! There are a lot of people here in Hogwarts that would love for you to be the Hogwarts champion."
His eyes narrowed dangerously at Fred and said in a deadly tone, "Oh really?"
"Sure," Fred said, not picking up Marcus' dangerous attitude. "I mean, everyone knows you constantly train and, with the things you've done over the few years being here, most people think you would be a shoo-in. I've even heard of a few seventh years that may actually put your name in for contention."
Marcus, upon hearing this, summoned his wand, gripped it, pointed it at Fred's throat so that the tip was mere inches away and he said in the deadliest voice possible, "I do not want my name to be put in that goblet. I will not go near it and, if anyone should try to do it for me, I will find them and I will personally end them."
Fred immediately put his hand up in surrender and said in a rather squeaky voice, "Understood, old geezer."
As Marcus let go of his wand, which shot back up his left sleeve, Lorelei gave a gasp and said, "Marcus, how did you know about the Goblet of Fire?!"
"What?" asked Marcus, startled by the sudden question.
"Shortly after the Start-Of-Term feast, you said that you wouldn't put your name in the goblet!" said Lorelei. "How did you know that the selector was going to be a goblet when no one else knew about it?!"
Marcus then saw the surprised looks on his friends' faces and replied flatly, "Lucky guess. Now let's go."
"Where is he?" said Ron, who somehow wasn't listening to a word of the conversation, but looking through the crowd to see what had become of Krum. "Dumbledore didn't say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?"
But this query was answered almost instantly; they were level with the Slytherin table now, and Karkaroff had just bustled up to his students.
"Back to the ship, then," he was saying, "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"
Marcus saw Krum shake his head as he pulled his furs back on.
"Professor, I vood like some wine," said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.
"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing instantly. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy -"
Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the doors, reaching at the exact same moment as Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Marcus wanted nothing more than to get out of the Great Hall and get to his training as quick as possible, but since he wanted to show some courtesy to the foreign students, he stopped himself to let Karkaroff and his students walk through first.
"Thank you," said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at him and Harry.
And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his back to Marcus and Harry and stared at them as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up Harry's face and fixed upon his scar before staring at Marcus' pure white hair. The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at Marcus and Harry too.
Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus saw comprehension dawn on a few of their faces. The boy with food all down his front nudged the girl next to him and pointed openly at Harry's forehead and Marcus' hair.
"Yeah, that's Harry Potter and Marcus Williams," said a growling voice from behind them.
Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster.
The color drained from Karkaroff's face as Marcus watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him.
"You!" he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.
"Me," said Moody grimly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter and Williams, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking tthe doorway."
This much was true; half the students in the Hall were now waiting behind them, looking over one another's shoulders to see what was causing the holdup.
Without another word, Professor Karkaroff swept his students away with him. Moody watched him until he was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face.
As Marcus, Lorelei, and Cedric were finishing up with their evening workout, Lorelei said, "So, how exactly do you know that Beauxbaton girl?"
Marcus explained as much of it as he could, as much of his time in Paris when he was four years old was still blank.
At the end, Lorelei said, "Oh. Well, why didn't you say so at the feast?"
"Because I didn't want all of my friends to grill me for details and especially Ron, who looked like he was about to drool," said Marcus flatly. "Besides, I had only fully remembered in that moment."
"Well, I can see why you wanted to remain silent," said Cedric as he was getting his robes on from behind a blind. "A lot of guys weren't happy about that little scene at the feast."
"Yeah, I could tell," said Marcus. "So, Cedric, something I have to ask: Are there students in Hogwarts that are seriously going to try putting my name in the Goblet of Fire?"
Cedric sighed and said, "Unfortunately, yes. There are some fellow seventh-years that are of age that want to put your name in the Goblet of Fire under the pretense of putting in their own name."
"Why is everyone so keen to see me participate in this damn tournament?!" growled Marcus.
"Because the people are confident you'd win," said Lorelei. "Let's be honest: You haven't failed or lost at anything you've put forth effort in, no matter how many other people have been involved."
"But it's because of the help of other people that I'm doing as well as I am!" remarked Marcus. "Without the help of others, I wouldn't be anywhere near where I am today!"
He then took a deep sigh and said, "Cedric, Lorelei, we're going."
"Huh?" said the two of them. "Going where?"
"To the entrance hall," said Marcus. "Cedric, we're going to have your name put in the Goblet of Fire."
Cedric took a sharp breath, but nonetheless said, "Right. One second."
Cedric then took a nearby bit of parchment, wrote very clearly, "Cedric Diggory - Hogwarts" and said, pocketing the bit of parchment, "All right, let's go."
"Hold on," said Marcus, casting the Disillusionment Charm on Cedric and Lorelei before casting it upon himself. Once it took effect, he then said, "Now, let's go."
It was a pretty standard night, nothing too complicated for Marcus and Lorelei to get around, though there were a few moments in which Cedric wasn't being careful enough and almost got them caught.
Once they arrived in the entrance hall, Marcus stopped at the foot of the marble staircase and whispered, "All right, Cedric, go ahead."
"You're not going to get near it?" whispered Cedric.
"Not a chance," Marcus whispered back, seeing the wispy white, circling smoke around the table with the Goblet of Fire on it. "I already said I wouldn't get near the damn thing. Besides, you're the only one that can get over the Age Line. So, go ahead."
"Right," said Cedric. It took about a minute, but Marcus eventually saw the Goblet of Fire accepting Cedric's slip of parchment.
"All right," Cedric whispered. "I'm in."
"Fantastic," whispered Marcus. "You're a shoo-in for sure."
"Thanks, Marcus," whispered Cedric. "All right, I'm going to head for my common room. See you all tomorrow night after the selections?"
"Definitely," whispered Lorelei.
Once the two of them were making their way back to the Gryffindor common room, Lorelei whispered, "Marcus, you really think Cedric's going to get selected?"
"Lorelei, no one else comes close to his attributes," whispered Marcus. "Besides, there's the Age Line, and I'm sure it's being watched over like a hawk watches over prey. Really, I think there's nothing to worry about."
"Even if you see that pitch-black aura around that goblet with your enhanced vision?" whispered Lorelei.
As Marcus and Lorelei entered the common room, they both lifted the Disillusionment Charm on them and Marcus asked, "How did you -?!"
"You were like this when you saw the Basilisk through the walls your second year, remember?" said Lorelei, speaking in a normal voice. "On edge, never knowing where doom and disaster was going to strike next. If you're as confident as you say you are, then there shouldn't be any reason to be worried."
"Well, I know there's not, Lorelei, it's just -" Marcus began.
Noticing the cutoff, Lorelei asked, "Just what?"
"Something's not right," said Marcus. "It's just this feeling I'm getting. Like my whole world's going to crash down upon me. I felt this way not too long ago, at the Quidditch World Cup, and that was right before the Death Eaters began their attacks. Well, I'm going to crash on the bed. See you in the morning for our workout."
As Marcus went up to his four-poster bed in his dormitory, he was grateful that he didn't convey just how terrified he was of the next twenty-four hours.
As The Dark Prince finished taking his shower and putting on his attire, he was pleased to see that his physical recovery was going much more smoothly than initially planned. And once his physical strength recovered, it was only a matter of time before he would gain complete and full use of his magical prowress.
As he was exiting the shower, he felt his right shoulder tingle slightly, followed by a rather squeaky, annoying voice say in his head, "My Prince, My Prince, come in. This is Wormtail."
Sighing due to the unfortunate event of hearing his voice, The Dark Prince pressed his left index finger into the area where his crown mark was located and thought, "What is it, peon?"
"I have that status report you wanted," said Wormtail in his mind. "The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang have arrived at Hogwarts and the Triwizard Tournament has officially begun. There is a little under twenty-four hours until the champions are selected."
The Dark Prince sighed and thought, "Not bad, Wormtail, for a wretch of a wizard. And I'm right in saying that there hasn't been any complications?"
"All of the pieces have been laid into place," replied Wormtail. "We are ready to initiate at the Dark Lord's command."
"Good, good," thought the Dark Prince. "Give the go ahead on the Dark Lord's behalf. If we are to ensure success in placing Harry Potter in the tournament, we must strike when the people least expect it."
"My Prince, how much longer until you return?" asked Wormtail. "The Dark Lord grows more impatient from you not being there by his side."
"I'll only be forty-eight more hours longer," thought the Dark Prince.
"Forty-eight -?!" sputtered Wormtail. "But - but -"
"Problem?" thought the Dark Prince, making sure to convey his immense dissatisfaction with being questioned by someone as low as him.
"Well, he clearly wants you to oversee the potion, My Prince," said Wormtail. "And he doesn't believe me to be up to the task."
"Well, there's no blaming him there," thought The Dark Prince scathingly. "Regardless, I have business in which requires the delicate touch that I possess. Once my errands have run their course, I will return. Keep the Dark Lord occupied, or you will feel my wrath firsthand, and you do not want to put yourself in a more unfavorable position with me than you already have, you worthless sack of flesh!"
He then released his left index finger, cutting off the connection.
Taking in a deep sigh, he said out loud, "That's much better. Now then -"
He made his way over to the nearby table just at the front entrance of the gym, where a small roll of parchment was sitting there.
He picked it up, looking at it intently before placing it within the pockets of his cloak and said, "Time to take care of some delicate matters."
He then took only two steps out of the fitness gym before Disapparating into the night...
Feeling pretty satisfied with the next morning's workouts, they decided to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast immediately after they showered up and got dressed. They weren't surprised to see that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had decided to get down to the Great Hall for breakfast earlier than they would have on a Saturday morning. So, the five of them decided to head down together.
When they arrived into the entrance hall, they saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It was sitting in the exact same position it was last night when Cedric entered his name in it, only this time Marcus noticed that the goblet was sitting on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. It also still had that thin golden line traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.
"Anyone put their name in yet?" Ron asked a third-year girl eagerly.
"All the Durmstrang lot," she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."
"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Harry. "I would've if it had been me...wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?"
Marcus and Lorelei shared a smirk that went unnoticed by everyone else upon hearing Harry saying such words.
Marcus then heard someone laughing behind him. Turning, he saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited.
"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Marcus, Lorelei, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Just taken it."
"What?" said Ron.
"The Aging Potion, dung brains," said Fred.
"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."
"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Lee, grinning broadly.
"I'll make you split your Galleons right now, Fred and George" said Marcus with a smirk on his face. "I'll wager 30 Galleons - fifteen each - that, not only will this not work, but you'll end up sprouting magnificent beards."
"Deal!" said Fred and George, shaking Marcus' right hand in turns.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Hermione warningly. "Marcus usually has a good reason for making bets. I'm sure he knows that Dumbledore will have thought of everything."
Fred, George, and Lee ignored her.
"Ready?" Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then - I'll go first -"
Marcus watched, with amusement, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley - Hogwarts. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.
For a split second Marcus felt a little worried that he actually succeeded - George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after Fred - but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor,and just like Marcus expected to happen, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.
Marcus sighed with relief as the entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.
"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."
After giving Marcus a total of thirty galleons, Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter.
As Harry, Ron, and Hermione were chortling from it, Lorelei looked at Marcus and said, "Well, mind justifying yourself?"
Marcus, with a smirk on his face, said, "I'm confident that both my father and Dumbledore collaborated with the Age Line, leaving me no doubt that they thought of everything. That, and knowing the side effects of an Aging Potion, made this the easiest thirty Galleons I've ever gotten."
The five of them then went into the Great Hall, where it was evident that the decorations had been changed out from last night. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Marcus followed behind Harry over to Dean and Seamus, who were discussing those Hogwarts students of seventeen or over who might be entering.
"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," Dean told Harry and Marcus. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth."
Marcus saw Harry shaking his head in disgust before Harry said, "We can't have a Slytherin champion!"
"We won't," said Marcus with confidence.
"And what makes you so sure?" Seamus asked him.
"Because Cedric Diggory will be the Hogwarts Champion," Marcus stated.
"I did hear all the Hufflepuffs talking about Diggory," said Seamus contemptously. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."
"Listen!" said Hermione suddenly.
People were cheering out in the entrance hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. A tall black girl who played Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Angelina came over to them, sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"
"You're kidding!" said Ron, looking impressed.
"Are you seventeen, then," asked Harry.
"Well, of course she is, Harry," said Marcus. "You don't see a beard on her face, do you?"
"I had my birthday last week," said Angelina.
"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"
"Thanks, Hermione," said Angelina, smiling at her.
"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table and Marcus to scowl heavily at him.
"What're we going to do today, then?" Ron asked Marcus, Harry, and Hermione when they had finished breakfast and were leaving the Great Hall. Marcus honestly wanted to spend time with Lorelei, but seeing as her fellow third-year friends practically whisked her away immediately after finishing breakfast, he decided to just go with the flow today.
"We haven't been down to visit Hagrid yet," said Harry.
"Okay," said Ron, "just as long as he doesn't ask us to donate a few fingers to the skrewts."
A look of great excitement suddenly dawned on Hermione's face.
"I've just realized - I haven't asked Hagrid to join S.P.E.W. yet!" she said brightly. "Wait for me, will you, while I nip upstairs and get the badges?"
"What is it with her?" said Ron, exasperated, as Hermione ran away up the marble staircase.
"Hey, Ron," said Harry suddenly. "It's your friend..."
The students from Beauxbatons were coming through the front doors from the grounds, among them, Ms. Delacour. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly.
Madam Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks.
"What d'you reckon'll happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" Ron muttered to Marcus and Harry as Ms. Delacour dropped her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. "Reckon they'll go back to school, or hang around to watch the tournament?"
"Dunno," said Harry. "Hang around, I suppose."
"Well, it's obvious all the candidates will stick around," said Marcus. "Since their headmistress, Madam Maxime, is one of the tournament judges."
When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again.
"Where are they sleeping, then?" said Ron, moving toward the front doors and staring after them.
Marcus just sighed and said, "The Beauxbatons will be staying in their giant carriage, just as the Durmstrang students will be staying on their ship. No foreign delegates will be sleeping inside the Hogwarts castle, Ron. I thought that much was obvious."
Ron gave him a look of anger just as a loud rattling noise behind them announcd Hermione's appearance with the box of S.P.E.W. badges.
"Oh good, hurry up," said Ron, and he jumped down the stone steps, keeping his eyes on the back of Ms. Delacour, who was now halfway across the lawn with Madame Maxime.
As they neared Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, what Marcus said not a minute ago seemed to be true; the gigantic powder-blue carriage in which they had arrived had been parked two hundred yards from Hagrid's front door, and the students were climbing back inside it. The elephantine flying horses that had pulled the carriage were now grazing in a makeshift paddock alongside it.
Harry knocked on Hagrid's door, and Fang's booming barks answered instantly.
"'Bout time!" said Hagrid, when he'd flung open the door. "Thought you lot'd forgotten where I live!"
"We've been really busy, Hag -" Hermione started to say, but then she stopped dead, looking up at Hagrid, apparently lost for words.
She wasn't the only one, in Marcus' mind. Hagrid was wearing his best (and very horrible) hairy brown suit, plus a checked yellow-and-orange tie. This wasn't the worst of it, though; he had evidently tried to tame his hair, using large quantities of what appeared to be axle grease. It was now slicked down into two bunches - perhaps he had tried a ponytail like Bill's, but found he had too much hair. The look didn't suit him in the slightest. For a moment, Hermione goggled at him, then, obviously decided not to comment, she said, "Erm - where are the skrewts?"
"Out by the pumpkin patch," said Hagrid happily. "They're gettin' massive, mus' be nearly three foot long by now. On'y trouble is, they've started to killin' each other."
"Oh no, really?" said Hermione, shooting a repressive look at Ron who, staring at Hagrid's odd hairstyle, had just opened his mouth to say something about it.
"Yeah," said Hagrid sadly. "'S'okay, though, I've got 'em in separate boxes now. Still got abou' twenty."
"Well, that's lucky," said Ron sarcastically. Marcus would've rolled his eyes, but he agreed with Ron too much to do such a thing.
Hagrid's cabin comprised a single room, in one corner of which was a gigantic bed covered in a patchwork quilt. A similarly enormous wooden table and chairs stood in front of the fire beneath the quantity of cured hams and dead birds hanging from the ceiling. They sat down at the table while Hagrid started to tea, and were soon immersed in yet more discussion of the Triwizard Tournament, much to Marcus' chagrin. Hagrid seemed quite as excited about it as Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"You wait," he said, grinning. "You jus' wait. Yer going ter see some stuff yeh've never seen before. Firs' task...ah, but I'm not supposed ter say."
"Go on, Hagrid!" Harry, Ron, and Hermione urged him while Marcus remained silent, but Hagrid just shook his head, grinning.
"I don' want ter spoil it fer yeh," said Hagrid. "But it's gonna be spectacular, I'll tell yeh that. Them champions're going ter have their work cut out. Never thought I'd live ter see the Triwizard Tournament played again!"
Not two seconds after Hagrid finished his sentence, there was a knock on his door.
"I'll get it," said Marcus, rather eager to step away from the conversation, even if it was a few seconds.
He opened the door to find a Beauxbatons student, a male in his late teens at the position of attention.
"I vas told that one Mar-kees Villiams vas currently here," said the late teen in a heavy, nasily French accent.
"Je suis Marcus Williams," said Marcus to the French teen. "Ce qui vous ameme ici?"
"Votre presence est demandee, Monseuir Williams," said the French teen. "Suivre me, s'il vous plait."
"Un instant," said Marcus, who turned to the others and said, "Well, I guess I'll be taking my leave. Time to go to their giant carriage."
"Wait, Marcus, you can speak French?!" said Hermione.
"I'll tell you guys at the feast tonight," said Marcus, feeling rather indifferent about his knowledge of the French language. "See you guys later."
He exited the cabin with the French teen, who looked neither impressed with the fact that Marcus spoke fluent French nor of Hagrid's establishment. Really, Marcus couldn't get a read on him, as he didn't talk to him in the short walk they took to the carriage.
He still didn't speak when they arrived and remained silent when he opened the carriage door and stood at the position of attention. The only thing he did is gesture Marcus inside with his free hand.
The moment he entered the carriage, he was reminded of the enchanted tents at the Quidditch World Cup, except that the carriage far outclassed any tent possible.
It was a four floor, intricately laid out mansion, to put it simply. Each room within the carriage looked as if it had its own function, their own classroom. It was very fancy, but Marcus could tell it only served the most basic of necessity without feeling underpriveliged.
There were a few Beauxbatons students that gave him a quizzical look, but he wasn't really receiving any looks of apprehension.
All of a sudden, he heard a voice on the entrance floor call out, "Zere you are, Mar-kees! Come, sit over 'ere!"
He saw Ms. Delacour sitting in one of the ten tables on the entrance floor, with tea cup in hand and a rather happy expression on her face.
"Hello, Ms. Delacour," said Marcus with a smirk on his face as he walked over to her table.
As he sat down, she said, "Oh, please, Marcus. You can call me Fleur."
"Well, Fleur," said Marcus. "I must say, it really is great to see you again."
"As it is great to see you," said Fleur. "I did not know that zou could speak French. Your escort vas very impressed."
"A good credit to his discipline, then," said Marcus. "You couldn't even tell he was human."
"Vell, some of my fellow students do get a bit carried away with Beauxbatons standards," said Fleur. "So, tell me, Mar-kees, can you tell me, honestly, that you remember our promise?"
"Well, Fleur," Marcus said, sighing a little, "I only remembered bits and pieces from over this past summer and being back at Hogwarts. The -um, well...event - from my fifth birthday messed with my memory pretty bad."
"Ze one with the Dark Prince, no?" asked Fleur with a look of concern. He nodded and she responded, "Well, Mar-kees, ze part that matters is zat you remember, zat you were able to recall."
"Yes, yes, this is true," said Marcus with a smirk.
"So, Mar-kees, what all has happened these long years?"
They then spent half the day, conversing and talking, almost as if no time had passed at all. Enjoying a very good lunch put together by their staff of house-elves, Marcus felt that he was pretty happy, a feeling he had not felt since coming back to Hogwarts this year.
"So, Fleur, this carriage seems pretty nice," said Marcus around five in the evening.
"Oh, well, we mainly use it on field trips and out-of-country practical lessons,"Fleur replied. "Really, we've never had to use it for something as extensive as this before."
"But you're not worried?"
"Well, a little. I'm not quite sure Hogwarts can exactly accomodate to the standards we are used to."
Marcus felt a little irritated by this remark, but nonetheless kept a positive look on her face and said, "Well, Hogwarts does have a way of surprising people. Sure surprised me the first time."
Fluer then gasped and said, "Speaking of surprises, I want to introduce you to someone."
"Oh? Someone close?"
"Yes, to my little sister, Gabrielle," Fluer stated excitedly. "She is just the most adorable little sister I could ever ask for. Hold on a second."
She turned and asked the nearest Beauxbatons student where her little sister was in very fast French, to the point where he couldn't understand much of it, but he could understand the rather sad expression on the students face, which lead Marcus to come to the conclusion that the student did not know where her little sister was.
This made Fleur get concerned, as she turned to Marcus and ask, "Could you wait a few minutes, Mar-kees? I need to look around the carriage."
While Marcus was waiting for Fleur to return, his sense suddenly gone out of whack again. He heard numerous conversations in French, the banging and clanging of dishes in the carriage's kitchen and the smell of complex French cuisines, which threw him off entirely.
He tried to take deep breaths to relax and get his senses under control, but nothing he could do would work. After a few minutes, he was almost able to block out the unnecessary sounds and smell when something alarmed him.
He heard a distant voice, perhaps a mile away, at most. It was a young and terrified voice speaking what was no doubt French, saying the same things over and over again.
"Help me! Help me! Somebody, anybody, help me!"
And then he heard additional sounds...the sounds of vicious snarling only a little way past the terrified voice...
Marcus was jolted back to reality when a hand was touching his left shoulder and a voice said, "Mar-kees, are you all right?"
He saw that it was Fleur, who had the same look of concern from earlier today.
"The Forbidden Forest," said Marcus in what was clearly a voice of great worry.
"What?" said Fleur.
"Fleur, go and alert Madame Maxime immediately!" said Marcus, feeling quite alarmed. "Wait for me at the entrance to the carriage!"
He then got out of his chair and quickly made his way to the carriage door. Upon exiting, he immediately started sprinting into the Forbidden Forest.
"Someone's in danger!" he said out loud to himself. "I won't let someone get hurt while I can do something about it!"
Once he knew that it was safe to do so, he leapt forward while shifting into Leo, his Animagus form of a barbary lion, and proceeded to keep running.
While he took the form of Leo, he was granted having what he termed "Negative Vision", a type of vision that, while devoid of all normal colors, gave him complete and intricate detail of his surroundings.
He scanned the forest while running until, about fifteen hundred feet in front of him, he saw what he was looking for: A young girl who was backed up to one of the trees, still calling for help as she was staring at no less than seven werewolves about fifty feet away, slowly advancing towards the young girl.
More alarmed than ever, Leo tried running through the forest as he could. But, his instincts kicked in and he realized that, even as fast as he was going, he wouldn't intercept in time...not unless he did something...
In response, Leo roared as loud as he could, which sounded much more terrifying than he remembered.
Regardless, it seemed to have worked: The werewolves, so confident that they got easy prey, now looked heavily uneasy as they knew they weren't as alone as they thought.
And, when Leo finally arrived, he blindsided the werewolves with such fury and terror, the werewolves didn't know what hit them. Before they realized what even happened, three werewolves were maimed at the legs and backs and the other four were helpless to fight him effectively. The skirmish did not last long, and the werewolves had no choice but to retreat into the deeper depth of the Forbidden Forest.
Leo quickly looked to see that the little girl, dressed in Beauxbatons attire, had her eyes closed by putting her hands over her face. Acting just as fast, Leo ran only about a hundred feet away behind her and shifted back to normal.
"Hello?" Marcus called out, walking towards her, acting as if he was on an evening stroll. "Is anyone out there?"
"Oui, Oui!" cried the little girl, who looked on the verge of tears, running towards him.
"Can you understand me?" asked Marcus in French.
"Yes," said the little girl, clearly still terrified.
"Tell me your name and why you ended up out here."
"I am Gabrielle Delacour, and I was bored and wanted to explore and I ended up being out here. Those creatures came out of nowhere and I didn't know what to do."
Marcus looked at her and said, "Hogwarts refers to this forest as The Forbidden Forest, and it is named such because it is too dangerous for anyone underaged to enter it. You're lucky you weren't hurt."
The girl nodded.
Marcus then turned around, knelt, and said, "Get on my shoulders, Gabrielle. Nothing in this forest will harm you while you ride upon my shoulders."
He saw the look on Gabrielle's face go from terrified to reassured to happy in quite a short timespan as she eagerly got on his shoulders.
From the time it took to leave their position in the Forbidden Forest, which was quite deep, and exiting said forest, they had a diverse conversation in French, most of which was her asking questions about Hogwarts and of himself. The questions about Hogwarts, Marcus was quick to answer, but in regards to himself, he mostly skirted around them.
Finally, they exited the Forbidden Forest and only walked fifty feet away from it when they heard a familiar voice cry out, "GABRIELLE!"
Marcus quickly put Gabrielle on the ground as Fleur and Madame Maxime rushed over to them, Gabrielle rushing back to them. Gabrielle then flew into the open arms of Fleur, the latter of whom looked thoroughly relieved.
Madame Maxime then looked to Marcus and said, "What just happened, boy?!"
Irritated by the headmistress's rudeness, he forced down that feeling and calmly stated, "Gabrielle inadvertently went into the Forbidden Forest, Madame Maxime. I was able to find her in time, she has not been harmed."
He noticed that Fleur and Gabrielle were caught up in a fast conversation as Madame Maxime said, "Well, this is simply an outrage! I shall go to Dumbly-dorre at once!"
"Professor Dumbledore would tell you that the Forbidden Forest is expressely out-of-bounds to all students in Hogwarts, and I'm willing to say that the same extends to the students of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. I, no doubt, will be punished for merely entering the Forbbiden Forest, even if it was to save an innocent girl."
Madame Maxime looked caught off guard, but nonetheless said, "Very well, boy. You have done us a great service. I shall inform Dumbly-dorr of this."
"Many thanks, esteemed headmistress of Beauxbatons," said Marcus, bowing. "I shall take my leave."
With that, Marcus set off towards Hagrid's cabin, hoping that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still there.
He found himself being thoroughly relieved when the three of them had just emerged from the cabin.
"How was visiting with Hagrid?" Marcus asked.
"Oh, we have plenty to tell you, that's for sure," Ron said, looking rather incredulous. "But, let's get going! The feast'll be starting soon!"
The four of them had barely started walking when Hermione looked over by the lake and whispered, "Ooh, it's them, look!"
Marcus looked to see that the Durmstrang party was walking up toward the castle from the lake. Viktor Krum was walking side by side with Karkaroff, and the other Durmstrang students were straggling along behind them. Ron watched Krum excitedly, but Krum did not look around as he reached the front doors a little ahead of Marcus, Hermione, Ron, and Harry and proceeded through them.
When they entered the candelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. Fred and George - clean-shaven again - seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.
"Hope it's Angelina," said Fred as Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down.
"So do I!" said Hermione breathlessly. "Well, we'll soon know!"
As Lorelei found her seat next to Marcus, the Halloween Feast was underway, though it seemed to take much longer than usual. Wether it was the fact that it was their second feast in two days or that there was the choosing of the tournament's champions, Marcus welcomed it, regardless. The foreboding chill he felt upon entering the Great Hall did not desist.
It seemed that he was the only one not looking forward to the choosing, as he saw constant craning necks, impatient expressions on every face, and great fidgeting on top of standing up to see if Professor Dumbledore had finished eating yet.
Unfortunately for Marcus, the golden plates had at last returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored. Marcus looked at the Goblet of Fire, enhanced his vision, and saw that the same pitch-black aura was still present, which set Marcus on edge.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, 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" - he indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their first instructions."
Marcus then felt a great wave of deja vu hitting him, far greater than anything before. Marcus someone knew he wanted to be anywhere but here, in the Great Hall. Almost as if to expect it, Lorelei looked at him and said, "Marcus, you can't leave. It would look too suspicious."
Marcus gulped and turned back to the staff table as Dumbledore took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting...a few people kept checking their watches...
"Any second," Lee Jordan whispered, some seats away from Marcus.
The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it - the whole room gasped.
Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice. "will be Viktor Krum."
"No surprises there!" yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Marcus saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared though the door into the next chamber.
"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"
The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"
"It's her, Ron!" Marcus heard Harry shout as Fleur got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. "Disappointed" was a vast understatement, Marcus believed, as he saw two of the girls that did not get selected dissolving into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.
When Fleur too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it.
Marcus, however, felt anything but excited. His heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute, he found himself breaking out in a cold sweat. He didn't know how he could feel this way, as it should be impossible for anyone underaged to be picked. But, as the Hogwarts champion was up for selection, he couldn't bring himself to relax, not until the champion had been chosen.
As if time slowed down, Marcus watched the Goblet of Fire turn red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbeldore pulled the third piece of parchment.
Marcus knew something was wrong the moment Dumbledore looked upon the piece of parchment, for he looked at Professor McGonagall, who must have understood what Dumbledore was trying to convey, because she was quick to exit out the door closest to the staff table.
Upon her exit, Professor Dumbledore looked to everyone and said, "The Hogwarts champion...is Marcus Williams!"
"WHAT?!" roared Marcus, his fears quickly washed away with a level of anger, the likes of which he hardly felt in a long time. His roar, however, was quickly drowned by the student body's roar of approval, the clapping quite thunderous as the vast amount of Hogwarts students were on their feet. He looked around, appalled to see that their was hardly any faces of apprehension. In fact, all he could see was joy and happiness that he was selected as the Hogwarts Champion, seeming to forget that no one under seventeen was to be selected.
Marcus tried to take very deep, rythmic breaths as he approached Dumbledore, but found himself spectacularly failing as he was still very much angry when standing in front of Dumbledore as he was upon his initial reaction of him being selected.
He wasn't surprised to see that Dumbledore wasn't smiling.
"Surely, Professor, you knew I didn't want to be in this tournament," muttered Marcus through gritted teeth. He was trying to be polite, but since he was still quite angry, it didn't come across it as such.
"We'll figure this out," said Dumbledore simply. "In the meantime -" he gestured to the side chamber - "if you please."
Marcus hurried himself to the side chamber and entered it, where it was lined with paintings of witches and wizards, a handsome fire roaring in the fireplace opposite of where he was standing, at the entrance.
Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour were standing on the opposite sides of the fireplace, both of whom looked lost in thought. However, when Marcus started to walk towards them, they turned and saw him coming towards them.
"Mar-kees!" Fleur said excitedly. "Has the Hogwarts champion been chosen?"
"Yeah," growled Marcus through gritted teeth. "You're looking at him."
And this concludes this exciting chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review on this story, as this helps refine my skills as a writer! Also, if you wanted to ask me any questions, please don't hesitate to leave me a PM and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my abilities! Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!
