The Goblet of Fire

'I don't believe it!' John heard Ron say in a stunned voice as they filed back up the steps into the castle. 'Viktor Krum!'

'For heaven's sake, Ron he's only a Quidditch player,' said Hermione.

'Only a Quidditch player?' Ron said, looking 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!'

Ron wasn't the only one that was startstruck. As they crossed back through the Entrance Hall, they saw several people standing on their toes, or jumping up and down to get a glimpse of Krum. A group of 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 lipstick.

'I'm getting an autograph, if I can,' said Ron, 'you haven't got a quill, have you, Harry?'

'Nope, they're upstairs in my bag,' said Harry.

'Has anyone got one? Sherlock?'

'When was the last time you saw me with a quill?'

'You don't have any quills at all?' said Hermione. 'But how do you take notes?'

'I don't.'

'But what if you needed them?'

'I wouldn't.'

'But say if you did.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Then I would do what everyone else does and read Castiel's.'

Hermione looked scandalised, but couldn't say anything more, as they were separated back into their houses upon entry to the Great Hall.

The Hogwarts students all sat down at their House tables. The Beauxbatons students had already chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table, and they were all looking around the Hall with glum expressions. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

'It's not that cold,' Hermione said irritably. 'Why didn't they bring cloaks?'

Viktor Krum and the other Durmstrang students had dithered at the entrance, but eventually settled at the Slytherin table, much to Ron's disappointment. They already looked more relaxed than the Beauxbatons students, taking off their furs to reveal deep red robes, and examining all the golden tableware, impressed.

Up at the staff table, Filch was adding more chairs, wearing his mouldy old tailcoat in honour of the occasion.

'But there are only two extra people,' said Harry. 'Why's Filch putting out four chairs? Who else is coming?'

'What?' said John, who had been watching Sherlock sitting uncomfortably next to the Beauxbatons girls. He looked up at the staff table just as the teachers entered to take their seats. Last inside were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime. When their Headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet, the girl sitting next to Sherlock accidentally knocking him in the head as she did so. John bit back his amusement at the disgusted look Sherlock gave her, then turned his attention back to the staff table once everyone except Professor Dumbledore had sat down. John squinted at the empty chairs. He could see two shadowy figures sitting in them, but couldn't quite work out who they were, though they seemed familiar.

A silence then fell over the Great Hall and Dumbledore began to speak.

'Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts, and - most particularly - guests,' he 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.'

The girl next to Sherlock laughed derisively and Sherlock tutted at her loudly.

'The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of this feast,' said Dumbledore. 'I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourself at home!' Then he sat down.

The dishes 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, several of which were definitely foreign.

The heat from the freshly cooked food swiftly warmed the room, so the Beauxbatons girls finally took off their scarves and mufflers. When the girl next to Sherlock took hers off, a sheet of silvery blonde hair cascaded out, catching the eye of nearly every boy in the vicinity. Sherlock got quite irritated at all the people staring in their direction, to the point that John laughed at him from across the room. He rolled his eyes and John winked, causing his cheeks to turn slightly to pink.

'She certainly seems to be attracting attention,' Castiel muttered on Sherlock's other side.

'I think she's part Veela,' Sherlock whispered back. 'You can tell by the hair.'

'You're not affected by Veela,' Cas said softly.

'Neither are you,' Sherlock countered.

Neither of them said anything else until the blonde girl leaned over and scanned the table.

'Que cherchez-vous?' Cas said to her.

She looked slightly surprised, then said, 'Je cherche de la bouillabaise, en vois-tu?'

Cas looked around the room. 'Il y a un bol près de la tête rouge,' he told her, gesturing at the Gryffindor table.

'Quelle tête rouge?' she said.

Castiel smiled. 'Désolé, à côté du grand garçon roux,' he told her, pointing at Ron.

'Oh, je vois, merci.' She got up and went over to Ron, then returned carefully carrying a dish. Once she had sat down, she continued to chat happily to Castiel, annoying Sherlock, who was sitting between them.

'Je suis toujours là, tu sais!' Sherlock eventually broke in.

'Sorry, Sherlock, would you like to switch seats?' Cas said.

'S'il-te-plait.'

Meanwhile, John was laughing at Ron, who was still staring at the blonde girl.

'They don't make them like that at Hogwarts,' Ron groaned.

'They make them okay at Hogwarts,' Harry said without thinking, catching sight of Cho Chang.

John laughed even harder at them, until Neville caught his eye and he stopped, clearing his throat.

'When you've put your eyes back in,' Hermione said briskly, 'you'll see who's just arrived.' She pointed up at the staff table.

The two remaining seats had been filled by Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch.

'What are they doing here?' Harry asked, surprised.

'They organised the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?' said Hermione. 'I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start.'

When the desserts arrived, there were again a number of unfamiliar dishes, but soon enough, the golden dishes were cleared, and Dumbledore was on his feet again.

'The moment has come,' Dumbledore said, smiling around at them. 'The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring out the casket, just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But firstly, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation, and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.'

There was a polite round of applause for the both of them.

'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 which will judge the champions' efforts.'

At the mention of the word 'champions', the attentiveness of the students sharpened.

Dumbledore seemed to notice their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, 'The casket, then, if you please, Mr Filch.'

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in the far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore, carrying a wooden chest, encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old.

'The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge,' said Dumbledore, as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him. 'There will be three tasks, spread 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.

'As you know, three champions compete in the Tournament, one each from participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tests 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 upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it, and pulled out a large, roughly hewn cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable, had it not been full to the brim with dancing, blue-white flames.

At the sight of it, John suddenly took in a sharp breath as he was suddenly bombarded by hundreds of names and faces flashing before his eyes. Completely caught by surprise, John was unable to fight it off, and could only wait until it was over. Though it felt like it had taken several minutes, when he came out of it, it appeared to have only been a few seconds. He was grateful, too, that everyone was so focused on Dumbledore, and the only people that had noticed anything were Hermione, Neville and Sherlock, who all gave him concerned looks.

He shook his head, feeling his stomach churn with nausea, along with the usual sweating and shaking.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the Goblet carefully on top of it, where it was clearly visible to everyone.

'Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment, and drop it into the Goblet,' said Dumbledore. 'Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Hallowe'en, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The Goblet will be place in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be fully accessible to all those wishing to compete.

'To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing the Age Line around the Goblet once it has been placed. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

'Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this Tournament is not to be entered lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, 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 champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are whole-heartedly prepared to play, before you drop your name in the Goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Goodnight to you all.'

'What was that?' Sherlock asked John, meeting up with him on the other side of the Hall.

'Names and faces,' said John, rubbing his eyes, feeling light-headed.

They bumped into a crowd at the entrance and John stood on his toes, trying to see what was going on.

'Professor Karkaroff is talking to Harry and Professor Moody,' Castiel said, tall enough to see over the majority of the crowd. 'He's leaving now, though.'

Soon enough, Sherlock, John, Cas and Dean were through the doors and climbing the marble staircase.

'Previous champions,' said Sherlock as they climbed.

'What?'

'I think you saw previous champion of the Tournament, since you were looking at the Goblet when it happened.'

'Makes sense.'

'But what's the significance?' Sherlock pondered.

'Who says there's a significance?' John pointed out.

Sherlock shrugged.

Once they reached the silver swan portrait, Castiel said goodnight and went through it, but Sherlock hesitated. 'I don't have to stay in Ravenclaw Tower tonight, I could come up-'

'No, no, it's fine,' John said hastily, cheeks burning, hyper-aware that Dean was waiting behind them.

'Oh. All right. Goodnight, John, Dean.' He nodded curtly and went through the portrait without waiting for their response.

Dean seemed not to have noticed anything, however, and talked to John excitedly as they continued on to Gryffindor Tower.

The next morning, everyone was up early and hurried down to the Entrance Hall. There were already about twenty people milling around, examining the Goblet of Fire.

Sam was already there when John came down, sitting against a wall with a stack of parchment.

'What's all this?' John asked, going over to him.

He looked up, excitement all over his face, as well as splodges of ink. 'I'm just reading through some of these responses,' he said. 'It's really interesting.'

'These are all letters from other Seers?' John said in surprise. There must have been about twenty of them. 'How did you even find this many?'

'Actually, a lot of them wrote to me first,' Sam said enthusiastically. 'And I knew a few from Pamela. Lots of them know about you too.'

'Really?'

'Yeah, they say they've seen you. A bunch of them are wishing you well.'

'Wow. Can I…?' He indicated at the pile of letters.

'Yeah, yeah, sure.' He picked up the pile and handed it to John.

As soon as the parchment touched his fingers, a swirl of many different emotions shot through him. He gasped and dropped the letters. It stopped as soon as he dropped them, and he blinked at the mess he'd made of Sam's papers.

'I'm so sorry,' he said.

'Don't be,' said Sam, gathering them back up. 'What happened?'

'I - er - I'm not sure. Have you seen Sherlock?'

'Hey, John, I need you to focus, okay?' Sam said gently. 'What happened?'

'I don't know, I just touched it and…'

'And what?' Sam had pulled out a quill and fresh parchment.

'Erm, it was just a lot of feelings, sort of all at once.'

'That's really interesting… Here, try one at a time.' He handed John one of the letters.

He held it for a moment and a warm happiness and optimism spread from his fingertips.

'What does that feel like?' Sam asked.

'Happy, I think.'

'Okay, how about this one?' Sam swapped the letter and John winced as the optimism was suddenly replaced by an overwhelming rage.

He quickly gave it back to Sam. 'That felt angry. Really angry.'

'This is so cool,' Sam said. 'It looks like you can tell what people are feeling through their letters. That's amazing, John, I don't think anyone else can do that. I gotta go write some of this down, see ya.' Sam gathered everything up and hurried away, leaving John preoccupied with his thoughts and feeling strangely alone.

'Where've you been,' John snapped when Sherlock finally appeared in the Entrance Hall.

'I-'

'You know what, I don't care.' He stormed off into the Great Hall.

Sherlock watched him go, then switched his attention to the Goblet of Fire. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Dean were off to the side of the room, talking together.

'Has anyone put their name in yet?' Sherlock asked them.

'The Durmstrang lot,' said Ron. 'None from Hogwarts yet.'

'I bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed,' said Harry. 'I would've if it was me.'

'Yeah, wouldn't want everyone watching if it just spat you back out again,' Dean laughed.

'Would you enter if you were old enough?' Harry asked him curiously.

'Nah, not me. I've seen enough trouble; don't need to be judged on it.'

Just then, a laugh rang out behind them, and they turned to see Fred, George and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, looking extremely excited.

'Done it,' Fred said to them in a triumphant whisper. 'Just taken it.'

'What?' said Ron.

'The Ageing Potion, dungbrain,' said Fred.

'One drop each,' said George. 'We only need to be a few months older.'

'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?' said Fred to the other two, quivering with excitement. 'C'mon, then - I'll go first-'

'Do you think this'll work?' Dean said quietly to Sherlock.

'Absolutely not,' Sherlock replied, watching Fred step right up to the edge of the thin, gold Age Line, a scrap of parchment in his hand.

'You gonna tell 'em?'

'No. I want to see what happens.'

'Fair enough,' Dean chuckled.

Fred took a deep breath, every eye in the Entrance Hall on him, and stepped over the line. For a split second it looked as if it had worked. George certainly thought so, for he let out an excited yell and leapt after Fred - but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the circle. They landed painfully on the cold stone floor, then there was a popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical, long white beards.

The Entrance Hall rang with laughter, Dean grabbing hold of Sherlock to keep himself up.

'I did warn you,' said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. 'I suggest you both go up to the hospital wing. Castiel is getting quite adept at removing beards, having already tended to Miss Fawcett and Mr Summers this morning. Though I must say, neither of their beards were anything like as fine as yours.'

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, followed by Lee, howling with laughter, and Dean, who decided to go and visit Cas.

Sherlock went into the Great Hall to get John, and squeezed his shoulder.

'What?' John said shortly.

'Come and take a walk with me.'

'Why?'

'John.'

'Fine.' John got up and walked out into the grounds with Sherlock, pausing to take a deep breath of fresh air. 'Where do you want to go?'

'The lake. It's quiet.'

They walked in silence at first, until they reached the lake and the shadow of the Durmstrang ship.

'I could list all of the species currently residing in the lake,' Sherlock said in a feeble attempt at breaking the tension.

'I'm sure that'll come in handy,' John said, a little more snippily than he had intended. 'What are we doing out here, Sherlock?'

'I wanted somewhere quiet to talk to you.'

John's heart leapt. 'About what?'

'You've been different lately.'

'Of course I have. These powers don't come without a price,' John said, descending back into his bad mood.

'What kind of price?'

'I don't want to talk about it.' John made to go back into the castle, but Sherlock caught his arm.

'We'll talk about something else. Just walk with me, please?'

John sighed. 'Fine.'

They began to make a lap around the lake. Sherlock eventually did launch into a list of the lake species' and their magical properties. He seemed quite happy to talk about that, so John listened in silence, not really taking in much, until they were almost back to where they had started.

'Talk to me, John,' said Sherlock, stopping suddenly. 'Tell me what's wrong.'

'You already know. You can see inside my head, remember?' John said bitterly.

'Not all the time. I want to hear it from you.'

'Why do you even care? Surely you have better things to worry about than my feelings?'

'I don't.'

For a moment, they stood looking at each other.

'I'm meant to help you,' Sherlock continued eventually. 'I'm here. For anything.'

John reluctantly opened his mouth. 'It's so hard,' he admitted, shaking his head. 'You should have been the Seer, not me. I'm not - I'm not smart enough.'

'John-'

'You don't understand, Sherlock. Sam got all these letters from loads of other Seers, and so many of them think I'm supposed to be something special, but I'm not. I'm not any good at it, and nothing I see is ever of any use.'

'You just need more practice-'

'That's what I mean! You wouldn't have needed practice. You'd know what the hell it is you're meant to be looking at.'

'Perhaps,' said Sherlock. 'I am good at discerning the facts, but that is all. It's no secret that I find emotions baffling for the most part, and I suspect being able to understand emotion is a key aspect of it.'

'You think so?'

'I do.'

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. 'I'm just- I don't know… I'm the only one with this kind of power…'

Then, to John's surprise, Sherlock pulled him into a hug.

'You're not alone. I'm here. All of your friends are here. You only need to ask.'

'Thanks, Sherlock,' John whispered, pulling away slightly.

'You don't need to worry so much.'

John smiled weakly, and looked at Sherlock's face, which seemed a little too close. Close enough that John could see little green flecks in his otherwise clear eyes, and a small freckle on the corner of Sherlock's mouth. He felt himself inexplicably drawn closer, but then a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he backed away. He looked at what had distracted him, and saw Cas and Dean heading down to Hagrid's.

'Lunch with Hagrid?' John suggested, clearing his throat.

'After you,' said Sherlock. He sighed quietly so that John didn't hear, then followed him to Hagrid's.

When they got there, they found the others picking at what Hagrid called a beef casserole, but declined to have some when Hermione unearthed a large claw from hers.

They did notice that Hagrid was dressed particularly horrendously, in a hairy brown suit and an orange and yellow checked tie. His hair had been slicked down into two bunches by what looked like axle grease.

'Looking good, Hagrid,' Dean grinned. 'What's the occasion?'

'Jus' felt like a change,' said Hagrid, blushing slightly.

They spent most of the day chatting with Hagrid, until around half-past five, when it began growing dark.

'We should get going,' said John, checking his watch. 'The feast starts soon.'

'I'll come with yeh,' said Hagrid. 'Jus' give us a sec.'

Hagrid got up, went across to the chest of drawers beside his bed and started searching for something inside it. They didn't pay too much attention, until a truly horrible smell reached their nostrils.

'Hagrid, what the hell is that?' Dean choked.

'Eh?' said Hagrid, turning around with a large bottle in his hand. 'Don' yeh like it?'

'What is it?' John said, coughing slightly.

'Er- cologne,' Hagrid muttered. 'Maybe it's a bit much.'

'Maybe just a little,' said Cas, eyes watering.

'I'll go take it off, hang on…'

He stumped out of the cabin, and they saw him scrubbing himself vigorously in the water barrel outside.

'Cologne?' Hermione said in amazement. 'Hagrid?'

'And what's with the hair and the suit?' said Harry in an undertone.

'That's easy,' said Dean. 'He likes someone.'

'Like who?' Ron said, shocked.

'I don't know, Ron, maybe if you think about it for a minute, it'll come to you,' said Sherlock, rolling his eyes.

'Look,' said Cas, pointing out of the window.

Hagrid had straightened up and turned around. If he had been blushing before, it was nothing compared to what he was doing now. They peered cautiously through the window and saw that Madame Maxime and the Beauxbatons students had just emerged from their carriage. They couldn't hear what Hagrid was saying, but he was talking to Madame Maxime with a rapt, misty-eyed expression. A look of comprehension dawned on Ron's face, and Sherlock rolled his eyes again.

'He's going up to the castle with her!' Hermione said indignantly. 'I thought he was waiting for us.'

Without so much as a backward glance at his cabin, Hagrid went trudging up the grounds with Madame Maxime, the Beauxbatons students jogging to keep up with their enormous strides.

'Well, if they end up having children, they'll be setting a world record,' said Ron. 'Bet any baby of theirs would weigh about a ton.'

They let themselves out of the cabin and shut the door behind them. As they walked up, the Durmstrang students disembarked their ship and entered the castle ahead of them.

When they entered the candlelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now sitting on the top table in front of Dumbledore's empty seat.

Fred and George - clean shaven again - seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.

'Hope it's Angelina,' said Fred, as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

Sherlock and Castiel again sat with the blonde Beauxbatons girl at the Ravenclaw table. It seemed she had been saving them seats.

'Oh, Angelina entered?' said Hermione.

'Yeah, this morning.'

'Well, we'll soon know.'

The Hallowe'en feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, or perhaps because no one wanted to wait any longer for the champions to be revealed.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state, and the noise died away when Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime were looking tense and expectant. Ludo Bagman was beaming around, but Barty Crouch looked completely uninterested, almost bored.

'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.'

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it, extinguishing all the candles in the room. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything else in the Hall, the blue-white flames almost painful on the eyes.

As darkness descended, so too did a terrible, black dread that settled on John's chest. His heart rate shot up and his whole body began to tremble.

Hermione was sitting across from him and saw him turn ghostly white. Her own expression dropped from that of excitement to deep concern. 'What's wrong?' she whispered.

But John couldn't answer, his voice refusing to rise past a large lump in his throat.

Sherlock was too agitated by this to remain seated and scrambled over to John, ignoring all the stares and hissed commands from the Prefects. The teachers watched him go, but couldn't stop him either. Dean shuffled over to make room for him next to John.

'Tell me,' he whispered.

But then the flames inside the Goblet turned suddenly red, and John shuddered violently as a tongue of flame shot into the air. A charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it, which Dumbledore caught. The flames turned back to blue-white.

'The champion for Durmstrang,' said Dumbledore, 'will be Viktor Krum.'

The Hall burst into applause and Viktor Krum rose from the Slytherin table.

Sherlock took advantage of the noise. 'Don't let it control you,' he said to John. 'It's your power. You control it.'

'I can't,' John finally forced out hoarsely. 'Everyone's looking at me.' He shuddered as another piece of parchment shot out.

'The champion for Beauxbatons,' said Dumbledore, 'is Fleur Delacour!'

The blonde girl that had been sitting with Castiel stood up and walked gracefully to the staff table, shaking her hair out as she stood.

Sherlock turned John to face him. 'No one's looking at you. It's just me.'

At the Hufflepuff table, Sam stood up, but Gabriel pulled him down again.

John tried to take a deep breath, but felt worse when he was unable.

'You can do it,' Sherlock said softly.

The Goblet turned red once more, causing John to be wracked with tremors again, and the name of the Hogwarts champion shot out.

'The Hogwarts champion,' Dumbledore called out, 'is Cedric Diggory!'

The uproar from the Hufflepuff table was incredible. Every single one of them had jumped to their feet, screaming and stomping.

'Look at me, John,' Sherlock said. 'I'm here. Just focus.'

John balled up his fists and tried to see past the fog in his mind, but it was no good. It was as if a wall had been put up and he had no way through it.

The Goblet turned red once again and the Hall fell silent in shock. A fourth piece of parchment shot out of the Goblet and Dumbledore reached out for it. He looked at it and just as he read out, 'Harry Potter!' John lost his battle and passed out, Sherlock and Dean catching him before he hit the ground.

Hey, what's up guys, welcome back! Thanks to Sherlock Harry Winchester, DaughterofMagic3 and Tacosaurus for the reviews!

Sorry I missed a week, I was in the hospital for a little bit, but don't worry, everything's fine now! The schedule's back to normal, so I'll see you all again in two weeks.

Oh, and I'm only just learning French, so it's still a little shaky. Feel free to correct any mistakes if you notice them.