Chapter Fifty-Four: The Goblet of Fire
The next few Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons weren't fun for Daphne. Moody had been thoughtful enough to provide Calming Draught in subsequent lessons, but even then the very thought of being subjected to the curse again made Daphne's skin crawl.
Now that she knew what to expect, however, and had the Calming Draught to prevent herself from panicking, she was quickly making strides in throwing off the curse, and at the end of the third lesson on the Imperius Curse, after being subjected to it a total of around eleven times, she was able to completely negate Moody's curse even at its most powerful.
Pansy had done it after nine, Tracey in thirteen, Zabini had been able to fully ignore it after his second attempt — it turned out his mother had trained him in resisting it earlier — and Nott took ten tries before getting it.
The people who'd chosen not to undergo the curse at all were instead put in an adjacent classroom to write monstrously long essays on the curse, its effects, and how they intended to resist it if they ever found themselves faced with it.
"You've all made excellent progress," Moody said at the end of the final lesson. "No one's going to be controlling any of you in a hurry, that's for sure. Of course…" he added with a grin. "That also means none of you will be able to use 'Imperius Curse' as a defense if you ever get arrested while I live."
Nott rolled his eyes and said, "Better make sure we never get caught, then, huh, Professor?"
"Better not get into a position where I need to catch you, laddie. Or did you think these scars are just for decoration?" Moody said, fixing his magical eye on Nott.
Nott glared back, but said nothing.
The rest of Daphne's classes weren't altogether fun, either. Hagrid's skrewts had grown to about three feet and had started killing each other at an alarming rate, leading Hagrid to conclude they needed more exercise, so he told everyone to put leashes on them and walk them like misshapen dogs.
It was after that class that she, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, had gone to Hagrid and told him that it was time to switch projects, and that the skrewts had become completely unmanageable for them already. Hagrid had been disappointed to hear it, but once again said he appreciated their honesty and that he'd see what he could come up with.
And then, a week before the end of October, a message was posted that the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would be arriving the next Friday, and that classes would end half an hour earlier that day.
Since their last class on Friday was Potions, Harry was elated that Snape wouldn't have time to poison everyone, to which Daphne had responded that he'd still have plenty of time to poison Harry, Ron, and Neville before class ended.
She didn't add that she didn't think Snape would be stupid enough to poison his three least favorite students at once — even Dumbledore wouldn't allow that kind of thing. Hopefully. Although, if all three of them survived, Snape would probably get away with it. The man had to have an entire closet's worth of complaints against him, after all. It was kind of sad, because Daphne felt that if Snape were less antagonistic to everyone except the Slytherins, he'd probably be a pretty decent teacher. Even for the Slytherins, though, he never seemed to really provide additional instructions. He simply didn't call them out on any mistakes or warned them before they made a big one.
Over the next week, all talk in the school was about the upcoming Tournament, and Daphne's thoughts went back to her visions. She still hadn't told Harry about her theory, and part of the reason for that was that, if she explained she'd been seeing his future, she'd have to admit that she was thinking of him, and though she'd become…decently comfortable at accepting that she liked him, she didn't really want to tell Harry yet. She was enjoying the friendship they had far too much to risk it becoming awkward. It wasn't even that she thought he didn't feel the same way, more that she wasn't sure what to expect if it was suddenly common knowledge that they liked each other as more than friends. So, unless Harry was somehow made to compete in the Tournament, she'd keep her theories to herself.
Then, at long last, the moment had arrived. Snape had told Daphne in Potions class that she'd have to stand and sit with the other Slytherins for the Welcoming Feast, and she and the others were forced into House lines in front of the castle. The Ravenclaws stood between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors, so Daphne couldn't see Harry and the others as they in the cold, clear evening air, waiting for the delegations to arrive.
"I wonder what the students will be like," Daphne said. "I honestly don't know much about other schools than Hogwarts."
"I don't, either," Tracey said. "Malfoy mentioned his parents had considered sending him to Durmstrang, so I guess it's a school with a lot of blood purists. Beauxbatons…I don't know." She grinned. "My father said, 'it sounds French, and I hate the French' and he never bothered to look up more about it."
"Is it even in France?" Daphne asked.
"Beats me. Probably somewhere in that area, at least."
There were sudden shouts through the lines, and Daphne tried to see anything over the rows in front of her.
"In the air," Tracey said, and Daphne followed her gaze, indeed spotting something huge hurtling through the sky.
As it got closer, she saw that it was a carriage being drawn by twelve massive winged horses.
"Are those Abraxans?" Tracey said excitedly.
"Er, maybe?" Daphne said. "I'm not that good with animals."
"They're really tough to train and handle, apparently. Can you imagine if our carriages were pulled by those?"
"Well…we've got Thestrals. Not that I'm entirely sure what they really look like, since I can't see them, but they're there," Daphne said.
"I thought that was just a rumor," Tracey said.
"My father could see them; he told me."
The Beauxbatons carriage swept out of the sky and landed forcefully on the lawn, bouncing once before settling. The Abraxans looked like they wanted to keep on moving, and they wildly tossed their heads.
The carriage door opened and a boy in pale blue robes opened jumped out to unfurl a set of golden steps on the side of the carriage floor.
Then, a woman who easily matched Hagrid in size stepped out from the carriage.
Daphne was so distracted by the fact that anyone else could be just as large that she didn't even bother listening to Dumbledore welcoming her and her students. She only managed to pick up the name 'Madame Maxime', and found it to be a very apt name.
Madame Maxime and her students went up the steps, and the lines of Hogwarts students parted to let them all through. Daphne saw that a lot of the Beauxbatons students didn't really look pleased to be there, but she felt no sympathy for them. They'd wanted to take part in the Tournament, so they'd have to live with their accommodations while it lasted.
A few minutes later, an odd sound, like that of water being sucked up in large quantities, began to fill the evening air, and Daphne turned to the lake, where she saw massive bubbles rising up from the depths and waves forming on the usually still water.
A whirlpool formed, from which rose a massive ship, which drifted to the bank, threw out an anchor, and extended a gangplank, down which the Durmstrang students and their Headmaster disembarked.
The Durmstrang Headmaster, apparently called Karkaroff, exchanged a few words with Dumbledore and then called one of his students over. Daphne could hear several people gasping when they saw the student, and once she saw him herself she understood why. It was Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker she'd seen at the Quidditch World Cup.
"Poor guy," Daphne said when the Durmstrang delegation passed.
"Why?" Tracey asked.
"Listen to all those mutterings. Krum's not going to get a second of rest here from that lot."
"Well…he is famous," Tracey said.
"So what? So is Harry."
Tracey gave her an amused look. "Yes, but we all know him. It's cute you're jealous on his behalf, though."
Daphne's face heated up. Damn it, she'd gotten a bit too comfortable about her feelings, clearly.
Tracey laughed. "Don't worry, I'll drop it."
"Yeah, you'd better," Daphne said darkly, though Tracey wasn't impressed and just laughed again.
They followed the Durmstrang delegation into the Great Hall, and to Daphne's surprise the Durmstrang students had chosen to sit down at the Slytherin table. Krum had the misfortune of having sat down next to Malfoy, who was already talking to him.
Seeing a golden opportunity, Daphne leaned over and said, "If that git's bothering you, feel free to hex him. Can't get expelled when you're not enrolled here, after all."
Malfoy gave her an angry glare. "Greengrass, why don't mind your own business? Someone who doesn't even care about Quidditch shouldn't be wasting the time of someone far more important."
"Perhaps you should take your own advice and let the guy who's just arrived from Merlin knows where breathe for a couple of minutes before you start telling him about your sub-par Quidditch record, then," Daphne said, sitting back down before Malfoy could say something else.
"You couldn't resist, could you?" Tracey asked, rolling her eyes.
"Of course not. If I have to spend dinner here I might as well make it fun."
"Gee, thanks."
"Oh, come on, you know what I mean," Daphne said.
Tracey smiled, but there was an edge to her voice when she said, "I do, but Daphne, it's all well and good that you want to improve Slytherin's reputation, but that doesn't really mean much when you're never actually, y'know, around any Slytherins."
Daphne frowned. Tracey did have a point. For most of her time at Hogwarts, she'd spent her meals with the Gryffindors. If she thought about it honestly, she really didn't want to stop doing that, either. But aside from the sporadic meetings with everyone from S.I.N., she really didn't hang out with any of her Housemates, despite having friends like Tracey now. She'd have to find a way to balance that a bit better, somehow.
"That's…true," she said eventually. "I'm sorry, Tracey."
"Oh, don't give me that. I did hear about your obsession with blaming yourself for everything, you know," Tracey said with an annoyed wave of her hand, though she was still smiling. "Besides, not like I don't understand you. The Gryffindor table seems like a wild place compared to here. At least there when someone laughs, it usually isn't derogatory."
"Let's try and make S.I.N. lunches a thing," Daphne said suddenly. "Let's be honest, I'm still going be spending a lot of time with Harry and the others, but if we all have lunch together we'll probably have a genuinely good time, and we might attract other people who might want to join us."
Tracey shook her head in amusement. "You really never slow down, do you? But okay, you're on. It sounds like fun to me."
At that moment, Dumbledore opened the feast, and all Daphne had eye for was the food, until eventually, when the plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore once again stood up to address the hall.
"The moment has come," he said, smiling 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, 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 Sport."
Daphne scoffed. Crouch being there annoyed her far more than it should, but she hadn't forgiven him for his stupid accusations at the World Cup.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament, and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts. The casket then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
Filch approached Dumbledore carrying a large wooden chest encrusted with jewels, which looked extremely old.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, 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."
Daphne wasn't too impressed by that list of requirements. Not because she liked danger, but because being at Hogwarts at all had been plenty dangerous for her already.
"As you know, three champions compete in the Tournament, 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 took out his wand and tapped three times on the top of the casket, and the lid slowly creaked open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup, which was full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, so that everyone in the Hall could see it.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as a champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. 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 wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross the 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."
"How would they even enforce a magical contract like that?" Tracey wondered.
"I don't know. Maybe it's like an Unbreakable Vow and you just…die if you break it?" Daphne suggested.
"But…what if someone else puts your name into it? My dad's brother is a lawyer in the Muggle world, and I really don't think they'd accept a contract you hadn't signed yourself as legitimate…"
"I…somehow doubt that possibility is covered here. I mean, it's for a tournament. I bet they didn't think someone would ever lessen their own chances by entering someone else."
"Well…if I wanted to get rid of someone, I might risk it," Tracey said. "Enter someone else into a dangerous contract they can't get out of and then laugh while they fail."
She grinned at Daphne's expression. "Still a Slytherin, remember?"
But that wasn't why Daphne had been shocked. This sounded exactly like the kind of thing someone might do to Harry, and she wondered why she hadn't considered the possibility immediately. Had she been so distracted by her visions that she had just overlooked something that simple?
But if someone did plan to do something like that, they'd have to be sure that Harry would get chosen, which would mean Confunding the Goblet of Fire into thinking there was another school, and enter Harry under that so that he'd be the only participant for that school.
They had to keep an eye on the Goblet somehow, but she knew that keeping watch under the Invisibility Cloak at all times would be impossible. Even if they switched out every now and then so someone could sleep, there would be moments when the Goblet was unguarded. Using the Marauder's Map would be impossible as well — keeping an eye on it for the full twenty-four hours was undoable — though she should probably tell Harry to at least keep an eye on it just in case.
The Goblet would need to be Confunded or otherwise fooled for the plan to have a good chance of success, and Daphne doubted anyone would be able to do that with others hanging around. It would probably happen in the dead of night, and short of being there in person, it would be impossible to discover.
Before Harry and the others could head upstairs to their common room, Daphne quickly pulled Harry aside to warn him about the possibility of his name being added, explaining what she'd discussed with Tracey.
"Do you really think someone would go that far to get Harry into the Tournament?" Ron asked.
"If this has something to do with Voldemort? Yes," Daphne said, ignoring Ron's usual wince at the name. To his credit, he seemed to be getting used to hearing it a bit.
"I'll check the Marauder's Map from time to time to see if anyone suspicious goes near it, but I doubt I'll see much, especially if whoever wants to enter me does it in the middle of the night," Harry said.
Daphne shrugged. "It'll have to do. Just…be prepared for tomorrow night. I really, really hope I'm wrong about this."
Even though she'd done all she could, Daphne wasn't quite at ease when she went to bed that night, and she was up early the next morning to check on the Goblet in the entrance hall.
It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.
"Has anyone tried levitating their name in from the outside yet?" Daphne asked no one in particular.
"I think a third-year Ravenclaw tried that," a Hufflepuff nearby said. "It didn't work; the Goblet pushed the parchment back out. I think you really need to put it in by hand."
"So has anyone already done it?"
"Everyone from Durmstrang, at least. Cedric has, too. Not sure who else," the Hufflepuff replied.
At that moment, Harry, Hermione, and Ron arrived as well.
"Saw anyone on the Map?" Daphne asked softly.
Harry shook his head. "No one unexpected. All the heads of the schools were there when it was put down, as were Crouch, Bagman, and Moody, probably to witness the Age Line being put down. Moody was probably just there because he'd never trust anything but his own magical eye, but every time I looked at it since I just saw students. I didn't keep an eye on it all night, though, so…"
At that moment, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan arrived, looking very pleased with themselves.
"We've taken the Aging Potion," Fred said with a grin.
"One drop each; we only need to be a few months older," George added.
"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," Lee said.
"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," Hermione said warningly. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."
Fred, George, and Lee ignored her.
"Ready?" Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then…I'll go first…"
Fred pulled out a slip of parchment with his name and school on it, then walked right up to the edge of the line, took a deep breath, and stepped across.
It seemed like it had worked, and George followed him with a yell of triumph…but then, both of them were hurled out of the circle, landing painfully ten feet away on the stone floor. And then, with a loud popping noise, both of them sprouted long, identical beards.
Everyone in the entrance hall doubled over laughing at them, even Fred and George themselves, once they'd taken a good look at each other's beards.
"I did warn you," Dumbledore's deep, amused voice said from the entrance to the Great Hall. "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."
Fred and George left for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, and Daphne went into the Great Hall with Harry, Hermione, and Ron, still chuckling at Fred and George's beards.
"I heard Warrington put his name in this morning," Dean Thomas said as they approached. "They say he got up early for it. Is it true?" he asked Daphne.
"He might have. Warrington's not really one to get up early, though. But even if he did, I doubt he'll be picked. His grades aren't exactly good, from what I know," Daphne said.
"All the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory," Seamus Finnigan said contemptuously. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."
Loud cheering came from the entrance hall, and a few moments later Angelina Johnson came into the Great Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way.
"Well, I've done it!" she said when she sat down near them. "Just put my name in!"
"You're kidding!" Ron said, looking impressed.
"You're seventeen, then?" Harry asked.
"'Course she is, can't see a beard, can you?" Ron said.
"I had my birthday last week," Angelina confirmed.
"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor is entering," Hermione said. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"
"Thanks, Hermione," Angelina said with a smile.
"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," Seamus said, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl heavily at him.
"Come on, I've been trying to get the Slytherins to be less nasty to other Houses. Don't tell me I need to start doing the same for the Gryffindors," Daphne said. "What does it matter who gets it anyway, as long as Hogwarts wins?"
"Would you be happy if Malfoy became school champion somehow?" Ron asked.
"Actually, yes, because he would absolutely get himself grievously injured, but Diggory seems nice. His father's a bit of an idiot, but I can't really fault him for that," Daphne said.
"You're…not really into the whole 'competition' thing, are you?" Dean asked.
Daphne shrugged. "I am when I'm competing. When others do it…not so much."
"Yeah, but…a Hufflepuff being the most qualified person in the school?" Seamus said.
"Not that weird, is it? I mean, one of Hufflepuff's traits is having hard workers. Gryffindor seems to be the House of reckless party lovers, Ravenclaws are bookworms, Slytherins are often more pragmatic than skilled…Hufflepuff seems like the House with the sort of down-to-earth get-it-done mentality to be good at this. You know, jack of all trades, master of none?"
"Well, when you put it that way…but I still want Angelina to get it," Seamus said.
"As long as you get my point, I don't care who you support," Daphne said with a grin.
After breakfast, Harry, Hermione, and Ron went to visit Hagrid, while Daphne decided to make good on her promise to Tracey and spend time hanging out with her friends from S.I.N..
Predictably, most of the talk was about the tournament again. If Daphne hadn't been so worried about what might happen that night, she'd probably have been more enthusiastic about it, because ordinarily she'd love an event like this because it was so different.
She did learn that Warrington had in fact, entered, though according to Elsie, he'd misspelled his name on the parchment, so his chances of getting chosen were slim, to the great satisfaction of Adrian, who'd lost his spot on the Quidditch team to Warrington last year and who'd since openly joined S.I.N. because he was already off the team anyway.
"So who do you support, then?" Daphne asked.
"Krum," Adrian said without hesitation.
"You want Durmstrang to win?" Elsie asked.
"Why not? It's not going to be anyone from Slytherin, let's be honest, Diggory and Johnson are Quidditch rivals — even though I'm off the bloody team — and I don't know the other people who entered well enough to care either way. Krum's definitely going to be the Durmstrang champion — I wouldn't be surprised if Karkaroff forced all his students to enter Krum's name instead of their own — and he's way too good to consider him a rival and I'm a big fan of his flying…yeah, he can take it as far as I'm concerned," Adrian said with a shrug. "The Gryffindors are all behind Johnson, I suppose?" he asked Daphne, who nodded.
"Yep. They don't want to believe a Hufflepuff might outdo them," she said.
"Oh, now I hope Diggory does win, just to see the Gryffindors' faces," Lucy said. She was a third-year girl with reddish-brown hair and blue eyes, who seemed quiet at first but was actually quite friendly once you got to know her.
"I imagine you'd be rubbing it in in every class afterward?" Amber asked. She was Lucy's classmate and had curly, light-brown hair to just below her shoulders. She was the type of person who was easy to get along with, never really the center of attention but still capable of getting people to do what she wanted.
"Oh, absolutely. I bet it'd drive Creevey up the wall," Lucy said with a grin.
"He really only cares about Potter, though, doesn't he? And Potter can't enter," Amber said.
"I wouldn't be too sure about that…" Daphne said.
"He's not seventeen, though, is he?" Adrian asked.
"No, but…I think someone else might have put his name in the Goblet," Daphne said.
"Why?" Elsie asked.
"To get him killed," Tracey answered before Daphne could. "Daphne thinks that someone will use the Triwizard Tournament to get to Potter."
"Normally I'd ask, 'why would anyone do that', but Potter does have a habit of getting caught up in strange situations," Adrian said. "Not that he's alone in that," he added with a grin at Daphne.
"Can you imagine how everyone would react, though?" Hallie asked. "Hogwarts would have two champions. The other schools wouldn't like that one bit."
"Not just them," Daphne said. "Think of how the Hogwarts students would react. If Angelina and Harry get picked, it'll be two Gryffindors, and everyone will be mad at them for taking the spotlight. If it's Harry and someone from any other House, the other Houses will be mad at Gryffindor for upstaging them. In short, everyone's going to hate Harry if he gets picked tonight, except the Gryffindors and — hopefully — us."
"Malfoy would be happy," Tracey said. "He'd have something to taunt Potter with then."
"Er, why are you all talking like this could actually happen?" Hudson asked. He was a second-year who'd been bullied when he was younger and was one of S.I.N.'s most vocal members.
"You haven't been here long enough, but Potter gets into some kind of mess every year," Elsie said. "Him getting entered into a tournament he's got no business being in isn't that far-fetched. You heard that story about the Basilisk two years back, right? Potter's the one that killed it. And the year before that, he fought an evil teacher behind a gauntlet of trials put up by the teachers to protect…something. Daphne knows — she was there — but she's not telling. And last year, of course, he was the reason all those Dementors were around the school."
Hudson blinked a couple of times. "Right. Yeah, I'm beginning to see your point," he said. "Wait, but if he saved the school…wouldn't other people realize that, if he somehow gets picked, he'd been framed?"
"Yeah, that's House pride for you," Daphne said with a shake of her head. "And a healthy dose of idiocy."
They spent the rest of the afternoon wondering what the tasks of the tournament might be. Daphne didn't mention the visions she'd had in Divination; for the time being, she preferred that particular secret to remain with her and her Gryffindor friends. Maybe, if the visions kept coming true, she'd share them with her S.I.N. friends at some point.
Then, at long last, it was time for the feast and the announcement of the champions. Daphne sat down next to Harry.
"Nervous?" she asked.
Harry shrugged. "A bit?" he said. "I mean, I hope nothing will happen. But if it does…I'll just have to deal with it then. I don't know what else I could do."
After dinner, Dumbledore got to his feet, and all the noise in the Hall died away almost instantly. Daphne could feel everyone's tension, though her own wasn't nearly as joyful. She'd only relax once Harry had gotten through the announcement without getting picked.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore said. "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, where they will be receiving their first instructions."
He 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…and then, the flames inside the goblet turned red. 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!" Ron yelled as the Hall applauded.
Daphne smiled. Adrian would be happy, at least.
Krum rose from his seat at the Slytherin table and slouched past Dumbledore, exiting the Hall into the adjacent room.
The clapping and chatting died down, and the flames in the goblet turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.
"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"
A girl who looked a bit like a Veela got up from her seat and left the Great Hall through the same door as Krum had done, while the Hall applauded.
Well, most of it. The Beauxbatons students who hadn't been chosen suddenly looked like they'd received word they were due to be executed the next morning, with two girls dissolving into sobs while one of the boys manfully closed his eyes in an effort to control his tears.
Now, only the Hogwarts champion was left — if everything went as it should, that was. The flames turned red again, and a slip of parchment flew into the air atop a tongue of flame…
"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!" Dumbledore shouted.
A groan went through three tables, but the Hufflepuff table exploded with joy.
Daphne applauded enthusiastically for Cedric, earning her some dark glares from the nearby Gryffindors, but she didn't care. She had nothing against him, after all.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore cried happily when the applauding died down. "Well, 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 you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real–"
Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and everyone knew what had distracted him. The flames in the goblet had turned red one more time.
Daphne exchanged a glance with Harry. This was what she had feared.
A tongue of flame shot out of the goblet, and Dumbledore extended his arm to grab it.
And then, after what seemed like an eternity, he read out the words Daphne had dearly hoped wouldn't be spoken in that particular context.
"Harry Potter."
A very, very long chapter, by this fic's standards. I considered cutting it up, but it worked out better this way. It doesn't matter, anyway. As usual, a note:
Daphne's obvious trauma from the Imperius Curse from last chapter isn't gone. It's handled in this chapter with the Calming Draught, but it will play another role later on…in my current plans, which often change while I write the scene they're supposed to be used in.