Chapter Eight – Choosing Champions:

The next day Daphne and Astoria didn't meet in the library due to the excitement pervading the castle. The Goblet of Fire in the entrance hall attracted attention throughout the day as older students came by to drop their names into it. A large crowd had congregated to watch and Astoria sat with Sara and Melissa on the marble staircase where they could have a clear view of the activities.

"I heard Daniel Corner put his name in before we got up," said Sara. "He's a seventh-year from Ravenclaw."

"I hope he gets in," said Melissa. "It'll be nice to have a Ravenclaw Champion."

"Did you hear what happened to Kiddy Fawcett?" said Astoria. "She's underage but tried to put her name in anyway. Dumbledore's Age Line threw her backwards and her hair turned all white and she got wrinkles. She's in the Hospital now."

"How terrible!" said Sara. "I hope she'll be alright."

"She will be," said Melissa. "Dumbledore wouldn't have cast anything permanent on the students, I'm sure."

"It must have been hilarious, though!" said a voice, and Astoria looked up to see Mark, followed by Stephan. Stephan was scowling, obviously unhappy about coming over.

Astoria frowned, as well, but remembered the talk she had had with Sara the evening before, and how she had promised not to start anything with Stephan while Sara was there. She clamped her mouth shut, finding it quite difficult to fight back the insults that had leapt to mind.

"Hello, Mark – Stephan," said Sara, slightly haltingly. Astoria noticed that Sara seemed unwilling to meet Stephan's eyes. Her cheeks were tinged pink.

All at once Astoria remembered what else she had told Sara about Stephan, how it seemed that he must like her. She smothered a groan. She hadn't meant to initiate anything like that.

"Durmstrang sent all their students in here early morning, before anyone else was around," said Mark, sitting beside Astoria. She almost pulled away but then remembered that her argument was with Stephan, not Mark. She could actually remember a time in first-year that she had enjoyed having Mark as company.

Stephan sat on the other side, next to Sara and as far away as possible from Astoria.

"I wonder who's going to be picked," said Mark. "I think Viktor Krum is a sure thing, but I don't know who'll be Hogwarts champion."

"Who else do you know who's entered?" said Sara.

Mark shrugged, "A couple people from each house, I think."

"As long as it's not a Slytherin I'll be happy," said Stephan brazenly.

Astoria tried counting to ten to ease the pounding in her brain, opening and closing her fists on her knees. A cheer rose up from a section of the crowd and Astoria looked up in time to see the Goblet of Fire flare blue as it accepted another name. She caught sight of a charming grin and a flash of yellow and black robes.

"That's Cedric Diggory," said Sara, beaming, her face flushing. "He's so handsome. I hope he gets chosen."

"He isn't so good looking," said Stephan grumpily. "And all he knows how to do is fly a broom straight."

"Yes, well you're a boy," said Melissa, also bashfully making eyes at Diggory as he made his way back through the crowd, being patted on the back and wished luck, "so of course you wouldn't notice if he was good looking or not."

"I mean – he's good looking, but that doesn't mean I like him, Stephan," said Sara hastily, blushing violently. "I mean – I don't even know him and he's…older, you know – so it isn't as though…."

Astoria rolled her eyes as Sara continued to babble.

The day passed and slowly the sun drifted across the windows of the entrance hall and fell out of sight behind the mountains, splashing the sky in oranges and pinks.

Astoria assembled in the Great Hall with the rest of the students for the second grand feast in two days. She found it incredibly difficult to keep her mind on her food; her thoughts kept straying to the Goblet of Fire that spouted blue flames and smoke at the head of the room, churning more violently now that the time of choosing champions was drawing closer.

Many of the other students seemed equally unconcerned about the food, and finally the feast was wiped off the tables. Jack-o-lanterns hovered over the tables, leering with their crooked mouths. Astoria had almost forgotten it was Halloween; the excitement of the Triwizard Tournament seemed to have extinguished thought of anything else.

Dumbledore stood. Astoria smothered a giggle of anticipation.

"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make a decision," Dumbledore began. "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 instruction."

Dumbledore waved his wand to encompass the entire Hall. The candles snuffed out, except for those flickering in the floating pumpkins. Shivering intrigue fell upon the Hall, making Astoria's chest tighten.

The flames in the Goblet burned red. Sara started. A tongue of flame spit toward the ceiling, spewing ash, smoke, and a charred piece of paper. Dumbledore caught it with thin, nimble fingers.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he said, deep voice rebounding off the walls and ceiling of the hall, which showed a cloudless, starry night and a sliver of a moon, "will be Viktor Krum!"

Applause spattered across the Hall, wildest where Durmstrang School sat at Slytherin table.

Professor Karkaroff's booming voice lifted above the cheers, "Bravo, Viktor!"

Krum slumped toward the Staff Table, where he was met with a handshake from Professor Dumbledore and a pat on his shoulder from his own headmaster.

The flames in the Goblet shot into the air again, burning orange and red, and spat another slip of paper into the air.

"The champion of Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

Applause broke out in the Hall once again. A girl sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table stood, tossing silvery hair over her shoulder and flashing a grin that reflected the orange light of candles. Several boys wolf-whistled.

The girl who had been sitting beside Fleur Delacour collapsed over the table, head in hands and shoulders shaking. Cecelia patted her numbly on the back, tears of her own rolling down her cheeks.

Silence swooped across the hall, all applause extinguished. Astoria could hear the anxious ruffling of cloaks and crackling of the fire inside the Goblet.

The flames flared red for the third and last time and a piece of paper sprung from their depth.

"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

Wild applause erupted. Hufflepuff table stood as a whole, cheering and stomping their feet. Cedric Diggory made his way to the Staff Table, grin spread across his smoothly carved face. Astoria felt a smile tug at her lips. Sara shouted over the applause. "It's Cedric! Cedric Diggory!"

After a long moment the applause again subsided and Dumbledore clapped his hands, "Excellent! 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 –"'

The flames inside the Goblet turned red, ash spewing from the cup, sparks leaping into the air. With a hiss it released a fourth piece of paper.

Astoria felt her mouth fall open. A hush fell across the hall as Dumbledore snatched the paper from the air, moving as though automatically. He unfolded it. The students waited. The teachers waited. Astoria waited. The stars glimmering from the ceiling waited.

"Harry Potter."

There was a pause that meandered on. Astoria felt vaguely as though she was still waiting for something, the entire Hall was still waiting, Professor Dumbledore was looking grim – waiting.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Astoria's head whirled to the Gryffindor Table on the other side of the Hall, searching for a mop of black, messy hair and the glint of glasses in the candlelight. Harry Potter stood. He stumbled slightly as one of his friends prodded him forward with a push. He looked…surprised, as if he had not expected his name to be called.

But surely he had expected it because surely he had wanted it, surely that was why he had entered his name in the first place.

Silence pulsed through the room. Sara glanced at Astoria, looking dumbfounded, eyes widened and reflecting the light of the candles.

Harry Potter faltered up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Whispers began to filter through the silence, spreading like smoke.

"But he's underage."

"The little cheater…"

"Surely they won't let him compete."

"Well…through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore quietly, but the Hall was still silent enough that his voice seemed to echo against the walls.

The door behind the Staff Table creaked open at Potter's touch and he disappeared into the chamber, where firelight could be seen flickering through the doorway. The door snapped shut behind him and as though it had been a signal, the noises of protest broke across the students in a wave.

"Preposterous!"

"He's just a kid!"

"Dumbledore can't let this happen!"

Ludo Bagman hastily shoved back his chair and followed Potter into the chamber. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape huddled around Headmaster Dumbledore. Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime moved forward.

"He can't – Harry Potter?" said Melissa, looking astounded.

Astoria felt numb. She couldn't believe that had just happened. That wasn't supposed to have happened. Dumbledore – Dumbledore was supposed to have something like this in-hand.

"But there's only supposed to be three champions," said Sara faintly. "How…?"

"I don't know," said Astoria, feeling her words slip out of her lips but having no real command over what she said. "Potter must have – found some way to get around the enchantments."

"You mean Harry cheated?" said Sara.

"Apparently," said Astoria. "He's always looking for something to bring attention to himself."

She remembered everything Daphne had ever told Astoria about Harry Potter, how he had snuck into an off-limits chamber during his first-year and concocted some ridiculous story of fighting You-Know-Who again, how the encounter had ended with Potter in the Hospital Wing and a Defense Professor killed; how he had apparently gone in the Chamber of Secrets during his last year and single-handedly defeated a Basilisk; and last year – how he had defended Sirius Black, notorious Mass Murdered who had escaped Azkaban, saying that Black was an innocent man.

The boy certainly seemed to crave attention. Now that Astoria thought about it, it didn't seem at all strange that Potter had tried to enter the tournament. How he had gotten around the protective charms was still a mystery….

"Attention, students!" tiny Professor Flitwick had stood at the head of the room and was trying to regain order, his voice squeaking uselessly against the chatter of the students.

Cecelia and her friend were chattering vigorously away in French, no doubt about the unfairness of Hogwarts having two champions.

But surely Dumbledore wouldn't allow Potter to actually compete –

"Students! Your attention, please, students!" Professor Flitwick brandished his wand, sending out a series of loud bangs and successfully attracting the notice of the students. "I will ask you to please take your conversations elsewhere – rest assured, Headmaster Dumbledore will have this all sorted out in a jiffy. You are dismissed. Good night." Professor Flitwick turned to Professor Sprout, both looking worried.

Slowly the students began to filter out of the Hall, voices buzzing indistinctly across the air. Astoria led Sara and Melissa out and toward the Ravenclaw common room, discussing this turn of events adamantly.

"Don't worry," Sara said when they reached the common room and made their way toward their dormitory, even though Astoria didn't feel remotely tired, "I'm sure Dumbledore will have it all worked out in the morning."

In the morning the school was still abuzz and Harry Potter still a champion. Astoria went down to breakfast with Sara and Melissa, eager to catch a sight of Potter, who would no doubt be eating at the Gryffindor table with a large crowd of admirers.

Cedric Diggory was there, surrounded by a small group of people, Viktor Krum was also there, surrounded by mostly girls, and Fleur Delacour was there, being stared at by most of the boys, but Harry Potter was nowhere in sight. Astoria wondered where he was because, after all, she figured he would be basking in the attention.

"I can't believe this!" said Mark, coming up to them and looking angry. "I can't believe they're letting him stay in. There was an age-limit! If I'd known they would have let in a fourth-year, I'd have tried to enter!"

"Yes," said Sara, "but remember why there was an age-limit. Dumbledore said the tournament's too dangerous for students underage."

"I guess you're right," said Mark grudgingly, but seemed to brighten as he added, "Potter will probably be flattened five minutes in."

"Oh, don't say that!" said Sara, "I think it's unfair that he's competing but I don't want him injured."

"Cedric Diggory had better win," said Astoria, staring at him across the hall. The sunlight pouring through the ceiling shined on his forehead and straight nose. He really was quite good-looking, much better looking than Potter, anyway, who was thin and scrawny and wore ridiculously circular glasses.

"I'm sure he will," said Sara. "He's a marvelous Quidditch player and so kind. He can't not win."

Most of Gryffindor house seemed to be ecstatic about Potter's acceptance into the tournament. Two boys with matching red hair had laid a Gryffindor banner across the table, emblazoned with a gold lion and the words "All Hail King Potter!" Astoria frowned; she knew there had been more than one reason that the Weasley's weren't respected among pure-blood circles.

Astoria saw as Harry Potter's muggle-born friend, Hermione Granger, the girl who had been babbling about House Elves, walked out of the doors of the Great Hall carrying a stack of toast. Astoria wondered if Granger, perhaps, had gotten fed up with people asking her where Potter was.

"Where's Stephan?" said Sara, looking passed Mark.

"Oh, he's sitting over there. He didn't want to come over," said Mark, shrugging. Sara left the table to sit next to Stephan, who shot Astoria a fleeting, maliciously victorious look over his shoulder. Astoria felt anger seethe in her gut but forced it down with a gulp of pumpkin juice.

"What's going on between you two, anyway?" said Mark nonchalantly.

"Nothing," Astoria hissed.

"Fine," said Mark. "I just know that Stephan doesn't like you –"

"He talks about me behind my back, does he?" Astoria spat.

Mark shrugged again. "I don't see why. You seem nice enough." Mark's voice sounded oddly stiff. Astoria looked at him out of the corner of his eye to see that he was hastily stuffing porridge into his mouth and avoiding looking at her.

Astoria felt something within her stomach deflate in exasperation. He was bloody twelve-year-old! Astoria was bloody twelve-years-old! She – she barely considered him a friend, let alone anything stronger – besides, she didn't bloody need anything else to think about, what with her research with Daphne and just regular schoolwork – especially not anything like this.

The next Saturday came and Daphne met Astoria in the library.

"Here, look at these," said Daphne as soon as she arrived, digging into her pocket to retrieve a handful of yellow badges.

Astoria accepted them and saw that they were adorned with the legend "Support Cedric Diggory – The True Hogwarts Champion".

"Brilliant," Astoria said, grinning.

"That isn't all they do," said Daphne. She pushed the center and the badge transformed, turning green and morphing the letters to spell: "Potter Stinks".

Astoria giggled appreciatively and immediately pinned a badge to the front of her robes.

"Give the extra to your friends," said Daphne. "We've spent all week working on them in Slytherin. It was Malfoy's idea."

"They're great," said Astoria, putting the extra badges into her pocket and making note to pass them out to her friends.

"Soon we'll have the whole castle wearing them," Daphne continued. "It'll serve Potter right. I cannot believe they're letting him enter."

"Dumbledore says it's because of the binding magical contract of the Goblet," Astoria said.

Daphne snorted, "Well, he would. Dumbledore's always making up something to back up Potter. I wouldn't be surprised if they were in this together, to bring the immortal Boy Who Lived and bit more fame."

"Why would Dumbledore do that?" said Astoria.

Daphne shrugged, "Because he's Headmaster Albus Dumbledore and there's no one around to stop him. They say he's got Minister Fudge in his pocket."

Astoria frowned, not at all liking the notion of their Minister of Magic under the thumb of Albus Dumbledore.

"The portraits mentioned that Professor Moody seemed to think Potter had been set up," said Astoria.

Daphne scoffed again. "Well, that's just Mad-Eye Moody; he's a paranoid old cotter. He's probably in on it too."

"Moody seemed to think that someone wanted Potter dead, that was why they entered him," said Astoria, who'd heard the rumor floating around the castle over the past week.

"Good way to do it," said Daphne, so matter-of-factly. "This tournament is dangerous. Frankly, I'm surprised it's been reinstated at all. Potter won't stand a chance."

Astoria turned Daphne's words over in her mind. It would be a good way to kill someone. No one would ever suspect it as murder if Potter died in one of the tasks. Although, of course Potter was lying; he had put his name in the Goblet, himself. But Astoria couldn't figure out how he had gotten around Dumbledore's Age Line. Unless Dumbledore had helped him, as Daphne suggested. But…why? Unless Dumbledore simply wanted two shots at the Cup.

But that didn't seem like a very viable motive for Dumbledore.

Astoria shivered. Dumbledore's reasons would be much deeper…possible much more sinister. He was smart, one of the most brilliant wizards of the ages. She wondered just what he could be capable of, had he the Boy Who Lived as his pawn and the Minister of Magic hastening to his beck and call.

"Anyway," said Daphne, breaking into Astoria's frightening musings. "We should probably get going. I've plans with my friends later this afternoon." They went to their familiar aisle and sat down, pulling old, faded Prophets off the shelves.

For long minutes there was nothing but the sound of the dusty crinkling of newspaper. Astoria was finding it difficult to keep her mind on their work, however. All of a sudden life seemed to have become very complicated.

Finally she mustered enough courage to lie what was on her mind at Daphne's feet, hoping her sister wouldn't immediately rebuff her. But – after all – things seemed to have evolved between Astoria and her sister now. Daphne seemed to have become similar to the person she had been when Astoria and Daphne had been younger, before Hogwarts.

"Daphne, can I – ask you something?"

"Sure," said Daphne, laying aside her newspaper.

Astoria was aware of the blush swimming up her cheeks, and the uneasy fluttering of her stomach, "How can you tell if a boy likes you?"

Daphne's eyebrows rose.

Astoria immediately wished she hadn't brought it up. She was conscious that this was the first conversation about boys she had ever had with her sister. Astoria had always been too young before. Daphne had never felt this close.

"I mean – I don't think he really does," Astoria hastened to clarify. "It's just that – and my friend thinks a different boy likes me but he doesn't! And I hate him! I mean, really hate him – besides, he likes my friend…."

"Astoria," Daphne interrupted, "you're twelve-years-old."

"I know!" Astoria said, feeling lost among the world and time and so pathetically clueless. "And I don't like any of them! I mean – we're barely friends and I don't want it to be awkward."

Daphne paused contemplatively for a moment, "Just ignore it then. Be friends with him and if he show signs of wanting something more, tell him you'd like to stay friends until you're older. He'll get over it. And if he's anything like a typically boy, he'll probably be too embarrassed to bring it up, anyway. So, really, there's nothing to worry about."

Astoria nodded, feeling too embarrassed, herself, to say anything else.

"And how many boys were we talking about, anyway?" said Daphne. "I got a bit confused."

Astoria felt her blush return in full-force. "It's…complicated."

Daphne smiled, slightly patronizingly.

Astoria searched desperately for a different subject, feeling oddly trapped beneath her sister's gaze. "So, Dad's name was Meliflua, why did Mum keep her maiden name anyway?"

Daphne smiled, obviously caught-on to Astoria's ploy, but consented to move on. She shrugged, "Professional reasons, maybe. She was already known as Ms. Greengrass at the Ministry. Besides, she and Dad worked in the same Department back then. I'm sure it lent more candor to their work relationship if people didn't immediately associate them as a married couple."

"Yeah, I guess so," said Astoria.

"Thank goodness she did, though," Daphne said with a laugh. "Imagine, if she hadn't we'd have been named Daphne and Astoria Meliflua."

Astoria giggled and turned back to her newspaper, feeling warmed by the sun coming through the library's windows, and settled against the bookshelf behind her.

Next Chapter: some time in that hazy, unforeseeable thing called the future.