The Goblet of Fire
After half an hour of Hermione's ranting and Ila sidestepping questions from Madam Pomfrey as to just how she managed to get a large gash on her hand by tripping down the stairs, the trio melted into the crowd of students that were pouring into the Great Hall. They overheard other Hogwarts students about the incredible entrances from both schools: Beauxtabatons coming in from flying carriages pulled by horses before coming out via red carpet. At the same time, Durmstrange had emerged from the river in a large ship.
"Why don't we have cool stuff that like?" Ron complained as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table. The other students also found their places, Beauxabaton sitting next to Ravenclaws and Durmstrangs sat next to Slytherins. Ila saw a few of the Slytherins try to snuggle up to a few of the boys. "They get horses with fire eyes and massive ships, and what do we have?"
"A greasy, moody potions professor and…Moaning Mrytle?" Ila suggested.
Ron snorted. "Can't wait till they find out about her."
"Is that really the thing you're worried about, Ron?" Hermione said through gritted teeth.
"It's not like we can do anything about it, can we? I'm just as angry as you," Ron quickly added when he saw Hermione's brows raise, "Dumbledore isn't going to budge. We have to deal with it."
"Why do we have to do it?" Hermione asked. "Trelawney clearly went against the rules, and she should be punished. She has to face the consequences."
"What exactly are those consequences?"
"Get fired!"
"Face it, Mione," Ron sighed. "There's just some things that we have to accept and move on from."
"I bet those other schools don't have stupid headteachers that won't listen to their students when they tell them crazy Divination teachers are harassing them!"
"They don't even have Divination in the other two schools," Ginny said as she slid next to Hermione.
"They're so lucky!" Ila moaned.
"Apparently, Hogwarts is the only school that still teaches the subject," Ginny explained to the trio. "I heard from Parvati and Lavender that when they were talking to Trelawney, that they were going to throw Divination out completely, but when Dumbledore met her, he managed to convince the Ministry to keep it."
"Of course she did," Hermione snorted.
"I'd take a crazy Divination teacher over a greasy Potion's professor any day," Ron said. "Oh wait, we have that too!"
"Not to mention the ghost of a thirteen-year-old student that might have some boy issues that was killed here," Ila added.
Ron groaned, his head buried into his hands.
"What you so sad for? We have Ila Potter," Ginny said. "Not a lot of school can say that."
"That is true," Ila said, smirking, but it didn't seem to lift his mood.
"Durmstrang has Viktor Krum."
"You're seriously not comparing Ila to Viktor, are you?" Hermione asked. "He's not even that great."
Ron made a choking noise as he held his chest. "What did you say?"
"He's only a Quidditch player," Hermione stated. "Do you not remember what Ila's done?"
Ron stared at her.
"I don't think we can be friends anymore, Hermione," Ron said seriously, his hand still clutched to his chest. "Only a Quidditch player? Please tell me someone heard what she just said! Ila, did you hear what she just said?"
"Don't be so dramatic," Hermione tutted.
"That's not very nice," Fred said further down the table. "That's Ron's soulmate your talking about."
The three girls chuckled when Ron nodded along, not hearing what Fred said.
"That's blasphemy, Mione," Ron said.
"Do you even know how to spell blasphemy?" Hermione challenged.
"You need to apologise," Ron said, ignoring her question.
"To who?"
"His boyfriend obviously," George called out.
"Oh look, there he is," Ila pointed out the eighteen-year-old entering the Great Hall. It seemed that Ila wasn't the only one who had seen him, as most of the male population were clapping as he entered. Krum didn't seem to care in the slightest, saying goodbye to, who Ila assumed to be the headteacher of Durmstrang before making his way over to the Slytherin table.
"Oh my – over here! Over here!" Ron shouted over the cheering. "Hermione, move out the way – over he…urgh!" Viktor had taken this seat with his Durmstrang friends, beside Malfoy, who, interestingly enough, didn't care about the famous Quidditch player that was sitting next to him. He sat there, resting his head in his hands as he played with his wand, waiting for the feast to begin with.
"Thanks for that, Hermione," Ron muttered darkly.
"What?" Hermione looked at Ila, who just shrugged.
"He's just going through his feelings," Ila said, patting Ron's back sympathetically.
"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," Ron said 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? I could offer him a space in our dorms… I wouldn't mind giving him my bed. I could kip on a camp bed."
"From the sounds of it seems you'd rather sleep in the same bed as him," Ginny remarked.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests," Dumbledore said, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."
One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.
"It's not like anyone's forcing you to stay!" Hermione whispered, bristling at her.
"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Dumbledore announced. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
He sat down, and the plates in front of them were filled with food as usual. There was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Ila had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.
"What's that?" Ron said, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding with his wand.
"Bouillabaisse," Hermione said, slapping his hand away from the food...
"Bless you," Ron said.
"It's French, " Hermione said indignantly, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."
"I'll take your word for it," Ron said, eyeing the dish before helping himself to black pudding.
The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep bloodred.
At that moment, a voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"
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. Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.
"Yeah, you can have it," Ila said, pushing the dish toward the girl.
"You 'ave finished wiz it?"
"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."
The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Ila slapped the back of his head, which seemed to bring back to his senses barely.
"She's a veela!" he said hoarsely to Ila.
"Of course she isn't!" Hermione said tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!" But she wasn't entirely right about that. As the girl crossed the Hall, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.
"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" Ron said, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"
"You're two closest friends are girls, Ron," Ila said, making him face them again. "You might want to rephrase that one."
"Yeah, but that's different," Ron said, and he sighed when he saw their blank faces. "I don't see you guys that way…it's the same you said that you won't have a crush on me."
"Yes, but I don't go around saying every guy at Hogwarts is ugly," Ila said.
"Of course not. You like Cedric," Ron said, rather loudly.
"What – no, I don't," Ila said defensively.
"I saw the way you looked at him during the Quidditch match Ila," Ron said, taking a bit of his pudding. "You were in leeeurrrvee – ump!" Ila clamped a hand over his mouth, taking a look on both sides to see if anyone had heard his dreadful accusation.
Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall. Now Fred and George were leaning forward several seats down from them, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.
"The moment has come," Dumbledore said, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I want to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
There was a much louder round of applause when Dumbledore had introduced Bagman compared to Crouch. He gave a jovial wave, reminding Ila somewhat of the Queen waving. Crouch didn't do that; in fact, he gave no acknowledgement that he was standing in front of hundreds of students. The only thing that he did was stare at Mad-Eye Moody.
"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" – he motioned to the head of Durmstrang – "and Madame Maxime" – he pointed to the woman sitting at the end of the table, beside Hagrid. What was strange was that they weren't that much of a difference between the two in height - "as the panel that will judge the champions' efforts." At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. "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. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman," Dumbledore said as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways… their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."
At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks, and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The casket had dissolved, revealing a large cup made out of stone, filled to the brim of blue and white flames dancing around the edge.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have seventy hours in which to put their names forward. On November First, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete."
"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," Dumbledore said, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line. Finally, I wish to impress upon you wishing to compete that this tournament will not be entered into lightly. Once the Goblet of Fire has selected a champion, they are 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," Dumbledore gravely, watching the students faces for added effect. "Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."
"An Age Line!" Fred 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," Hermione said, "we just haven't learned enough . . ."
"Speak for yourself," George said shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Ila?"
"Me?" Ila asked them.
"Oh c'mon, the girl who defeated one of the most dangerous Dark Lords could easily pass through three measly tasks," Fred said.
"They aren't measly, Fred," Hermione said warningly. "There's a reason why they won't let anyone under the age of seventeen enter."
"Has anyone ever told you, Herman, that you have a special ability to suck the fun out of everything?" Fred said, looping an arm around her shoulder. "So what d'you say Ila?"
"While a thousand galleons and eternal glory do sound great…I'd rather have all my limbs attached to me when I receive it, so…" Ila said, much to the twin's disappointment.
"You're spending too much time with Hermione," George groaned. "What about you, Ron?"
"Where is he?" Ron said distractedly, 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?" Krum shook his head as he pulled his furs back on.
"Professor, I vood like some vine," one of the other Durmstrang boys said hopefully.
"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," Karkaroff snapped, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, dirty boy —"
Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the doors, reaching them exactly as Ila, Ron, and Hermione. Ila stopped to let him walk through first.
"Thank you," Karkaroff said carelessly, glancing at her.
And then he froze.
He turned his head back to Ila and stared at her as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Behind him were his students, all of whom were also staring at Ila, specifically her scar. Realisation dawned on their faces as to who their headmaster had said thank you to.
"Told you Ila's better than Krum," Hermione whispered to Ron.
"You're Ila Potter, aren't you?" Karkaroff said hesitantly, unable to peel his eyes away from her forehead.
"How many Ila Potter's do you know?" she said jokingly, hoping to ease the tension, only for it to get worse. Perhaps she needs to get a new joke. Many of Durmstrung students gasped, while the Beauxbaton students that were coming from behind started whispering. Thankfully all the Hogwarts students had already gone through with this stage years ago and were more annoyed that the doors were blocked than anything else ("Oh hurry up, will you!")
"Perving on girls again, Karkaroff?" a gruff voice from behind Ila sneered. For the first time, Karkaroff was able to look somewhere else that wasn't Ila. He instantly paled at the sight of what was behind Ila's shoulder. Mad-Eye Moody stood there, leaning heavily on his staff, both eyes glaring at the headteacher. "Thought you gave that up years ago."
"You!" he growled, pointing a shaking finger to Moody. "How dare you such an accusation?"
"An accusation that was proven to be true?" Moody questioned. "If you've got anything to say to Potter, say it now, or you can piss off! You're blocking the door. 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 face.
"You alright, Potter?" Moody asked just as Ila and her friends were about to head up the stairs to their common room.
"Yeah," she said. "Er – thank's, Professor."
"You tell me if he comes anywhere near you or does anything fishy," he said, staring in the direction of where the Durmstrung students would have left. "A man like him shouldn't be anywhere near kids, let alone be a bloody headmaster for a bunch of them."
"Ok…" Ila said, unsure of if she wanted to hear more of Moody's weird vendetta against Karkaroff. He was still staring in that direction, so Ila slowly inched her way up the stairs, her eyes locked on Moody, in case he turned back before deciding to leg it all the way to her common room.