Author's Note: You get a teensy glimpse of the Camp Half-Blood residents in this chapter :D I promise that they'll all be there in the next chapter, when you get to see a demonstration of all their powers. I want to say thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter (yes, you will get your virtual cookies). I hope you liked it!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything T_T

Dumbledore cleared his throat, trying to recapture the attention of the crowd. "As I was saying, we shall be allowing another competitor in this year's tournament. And", with a pointed glance in Ron's direction, "it will most likely not be one you are expecting. This year, there will be a competitor from Camp Half-Blood."

A stunned silence followed. And then, as if a dam had broken, a roar of excited whispers erupted.

" Camp Half-Blood? What's that?"

"Ridiculous name! I've never even heard of it in my entire life!"

"Half what?"

"Well, at least it's not Camp Mudblood!"

The last comment was met with snickers-which, no doubt- came from Malfoy and his posse. A flash of anger rose inside Harry's chest, but, seeing as Hermione hadn't heard, was tamped down. It was no good to cause a scene now, and he was rather sure all it would do is get him in trouble. He would have to take care of it later. Ron, however, did not seem to grasp this notion. It took Harry quite a few well-placed kicks and threats to stop him from launching himself over the table and assaulting Draco with his butter knife.

Dumbledore looked rather amused by the various reactions, although he did spare a disapproving look for Draco and his goons. He cleared his throat again and continued his speech.

"As I can see, many of you are curious, and rightfully so, as to what Camp Half-Blood is. Has anyone here heard of the legends in Greek Mythology?"

A smattering of hands rose.

"Camp Half-Blood is an academy, and, occasionally, a home, to Greek demigods. Demigods are the offspring of mortals and the Greek gods. When the gods descended to Earth, they would sometimes have children with humans-thus resulting in the birth of demigods. I'm sure all of you are interested in knowing more, but I shall leave that to the campers themselves. Shall we go meet them?"

Dumbledore, accompanied by the rest of the teachers, led the students out into the front of the castle where they would await the arrival of the visiting academies.

Daylight was fading fast, and the grounds darkened quickly. The students started to grow restless- everything was still and quiet. Boring. Harry wondered if the foreign students were hoping to make a dramatic entrance. Like Mr. Weasley had said, no one could resist showing off when they all got together.

And then Dumbledore called out in the distance-"Aha! Unless I am much mistaken, the delegation from Beaxbatons approaches!"

At this, a large black shape swooped over the Forbidden forest. The castle lights, revealing a magnificent baby blue carriage drawn by enormous winged horses, slowly illuminated it. The carriage landed with an earth-shaking crash, making many students jump back in a mixture of terror, shock and awe-including Neville, who trampled on a Slytherin fifth year's foot. At closer inspection, the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars).

A boy, outfitted in pale blue robes matching the color of the carriage, jumped down and unfolded a set of golden steps. A shining black shoe, the size of a child's sled, emerged form the carriage. A woman cloaked entirely in black-the largest woman Harry had ever seen, followed it. She had large, dark eyes, and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining bun at the nape of her neck.

"Dumbly-dorr", she drawled, in a rather manly voice, "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, my dear Madame Maxime. Welcome to Hogwarts."

At this, Madame Maxime waved one of her large hands behind her. "My pupils," she pronounced. A dozen boys and girls, dressed in robes made of fine silk, shivered behind her, staring apprehensively up at Hogwarts.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime enquired.

"He should be arriving at any moment," Dumbledore replied. "Would you like to step in and warm up a trifle?"

"Yes, zat would be 'onderful. But ze 'horses-"

She was interrupted by the excited cry of a student. "Look!" she said, pointing at the lake. "It's a mast!"

Indeed, a long black pole was rising out of the lake. The rigging of the mast soon appeared. Slowly, grandly, a ship was rising out of the smooth surface of the lake. It had a skeletal, emaciated appearance to it, as if it was a shipwreck instead of a working ship. The dim, misty lights gave it a stunning ghostly appearance. Moments later, the sloshing of an anchor being thrown into the water was heard, and people were disembarking form the ship. As they drew closer, Harry could see that they were wearing cloaks made of dark, shaggy fur-with the exception of the man who was leading them. His furs were sleek and silver, much like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice. Although not feminine in the least, Harry reckoned that he sounded a good deal more like a woman than the deep, scratchy tones of Madame Maxime did.

Karkaroff, like Madame Maxime, gestured towards his students. However, he was beckoning one of them forward. "Come, Viktor, into the warmth. Dumbledore, you don't mind, do you? Viktor has a slight head cold."

The young man's features were prominent, with a curved nose and thick black eyebrows. His profile was one Harry would recognize anywhere. Apparently, it was one Ron would, too.

"Harry!" he breathed. "Harry-it's Krum! I don't believe it! It's Krum! Viktor Krum!"

Hermione sighed audibly. "He's only a Quidditch player, Ron."

"Only a Quidditch player?!" Ron sent her a look as withering as he would if she had committed a great sin. "Hermione! What is wrong with you? He's one of the best-"

He was cut off by the sound of the ground shaking. It trembled beneath their feet, sending many students toppling to the ground. Poor Neville, by sheer bad luck, landed again on top of the fifth year, who looked as if he was ready to skin him alive. Neville looked as if he might regurgitate his Shepard's pie.

The ground parted, forming a huge chasm. Chunks of dirt and rock crashed down into the depths of the hole, and ash rose, clouding the air. Harry coughed. When the dust finally cleared, he could see a group of orange-clad teenagers, standing back to back. And in the middle of them stood a magnificent centaur, standing proudly in the circle.

"Why, hello, Dumbledore," the centaur said. "I hope your students are excited to meet the demigods of Camp Half-Blood?"

*Backs away nervously* You'll get to meet them next chapter! I promise! Good fanfiction readers… *Nervous chuckle* *Runs away screaming* I'm sorry! I'm sorry! You'll see them next time!