Albus Dumbledore and the Everlasting Flame

Disclaimer: this work is a fan fiction based on the worlds created by JK Rowling

Author's Note: It has been pointed out to me that, according to canon, the Triwizard Tournament has not been held for over 350 years when Harry is Champion. I would like to say that while it is my aim to remain true to canon, I do not actually refer to JK Rowling's books when I am writing. I try to use my own creativity to come up with my own stories within her world. So I apologise to anyone who abides strictly by canon, but I am going to continue on with this story nonetheless.

"What is darkness to one is light to another"

Chapter 8 – The Three Champions

The night that the Goblet of Fire made its much anticipated announcement; Albus found he was unable to sit still in the Gryffindor common room. The Houses had been sent to their common rooms after dinner to await the call, which was expected to happen somewhere between ten o'clock and midnight. So it was that Albus, situated in the Pirates usual corner of the common room, was shuffling from side to side on the couch, bouncing his legs up and down and tapping his fingers incessantly on the leather.

'Will you please sit still Albus!' complained Mars after he had thrice had his quill dislodged from its normal course of writing. How can I complete Professor Solstice's essay on the Decryption of Dark Runes with you bouncing about like a jack-in-the-box?

'He isn't the only one,' Emily observed, a faint hint of a smile on her face as she watched Alabastor biting his fingernails. William was running his hand through his lanky black hair every few moments, somehow managing to do it more often than he usually did. Of the girls, Maggie and Victoria looked slightly queasy. Everyone in the group suspected Victoria's reason for looking pale, but it certainly crossed their minds to wonder whether Maggie had been bold enough to enter her name for the Tournament.

'So, who entered the Tournament then?' asked Annabel lightly. She had an innocent look about her, as though trying to bring calm to the electric atmosphere that filled the Gryffindor common room. It was not hard to sense; barely anyone was talking but there was the audible rustle of robes and strumming of fingers on surfaces.

'Well we do not have to be geniuses to gather that Albus did,' Emily said. Victoria flinched, and then buried her nose in a book. Albus noticed that the book she was holding was upside down. Clearly, he thought, she is doing anything but reading. Emily continued, 'and I suppose Alabastor, playing the hero, did as well.'

'I am not playing the hero!' Alabastor spat.

'Whatever you say, dearie,' Emily said, smiling sweetly.

'I am not your "dearie"!' Alabastor yelled. He leaped up from his seat and stormed off, finding refuge behind a massive drape containing hundreds of tiny golden Gryffindor emblems. The fact that none of the nine remaining Pirates were moved by Alabastor's outburst was testament to their own degree of nervousness.

'Well that answers that,' Emily said mildly. 'And to continue answering your question, Annabel, I think your William has entered the Tournament too.'

Annabel looked up sharply, her eyes wide as saucers against her fair skin. William gave her a noncommittal look, ran his hand through his hair again and turned his attention to a portrait on the wall, in which a housemaid was yelling at her husband for arriving home late from the portrait of the pub on the seventh floor of Hogwarts. Annabel's eyes went glassy and she started pulling at strands in her robes.

'And last of all, I presume you are entering, Maggie?' Emily asked.

'Yes,' Maggie said in a painfully quiet voice.

'Do you know of any other second years from other Houses who are entering?' Mars asked, rolling up his homework scroll, fed up with Albus continually bumping him.

'I assume Jenning Ranger is,' Emily replied, 'and I suspect our dear friend Noxious Black is too. Besides those two, I have not heard of any.'

'Gryffindor the standard bearer again,' Mars said proudly. 'Four Gryffindor second years entering, and only half as many from the other three Houses.'

'Do you know what I find strange,' Emily said after a brief lull in conversation, 'is that our Champion Albus has said nothing so far this evening.'

All eyes turned to Albus, who was busy biting his lower lip and staring vacantly across the common room in the direction of the portrait hole. His whole mind was focused on the entrance to Gryffindor, awaiting the arrival of the messenger. He had barely heard a word of the conversation that had just passed.

'Leave him be, he is nervous,' Mars said loyally. He gave Albus a pat on the shoulder. 'Relax a tad, mate. You will find out soon enough.'

And soon enough came just a few minutes later. Professor Rolleston bustled in through the portrait hole, his crimson robes catching on the Fat Lady's hinges. Once he had righted himself, fixing his half-moon glasses on the centre of his nose, he raised his voice to call silence on Gryffindor. It was hardly required, for a steady silence had already fallen on the House when he arrived.

'The Goblet of Fire is ready to make its decision,' Professor Rolleston. 'You may come to the Great Hall.'

An audible sigh followed his words, and then the swell of noise rose as seventy desperately eager Gryffindors surged towards the portrait hole. Albus felt like he was being carried along on a tide. He could barely feel his own legs moving underneath him. It was a surreal experience. There are moments in life when excitement, nerves, fear, anticipation and hope merge together to create a single, indefinable emotion. For Albus, this was very much one of those moments, and it was one he would never forget.

Inside the Great Hall, the House tables had been removed. In their place, six raised stands had been placed around the walls, creating an arena in the centre of the vast room. Overhead the sky loomed dark and omnipresent, littered with stars marking a trail of timeless beauty from one end of the Hall to another. In the very centre of the arena, the Goblet of Fire stood on its dais. Each of the six stands were occupied, four by the Houses of Hogwarts and the remaining two by the guest schools. The students of Moskva Academy were huddled together in the front two rows of their stand, as usual dressed entirely in black. Their powerfully built Headmaster, Dr Vladimir Strovsky, with his straggling mass of hair and vampirishly white skin against his ebony outfit, was seated to the front and right, a little way apart from his students. He was resting his chin on a long wooden cane.

To the right of Slytherin House sat the students of the Black Forest School of Magical Arts. Admiral Wolfgang Schultz, their Headmaster, was wearing his usual naval suit, emblazoned with badges and small dangling trophies. He looked completely the part of a muggle. Even his moustache was clipped and sharp edged, like a muggle soldier. His students could not have looked less like muggles if they had tried. Their sharp crimson tunics were covered up by flowing silver robes, and almost every one of them was clutching on to a wand, as though they half expected Hogwarts to turn on them in an instant.

Once all four Houses were seated alongside the two guest schools, Professor Prewett approached the lectern on the raised dais at the front of the Great Hall. She was accompanied by a retinue of five strange witches and wizards. All five wore very long, formal grey robes. The murmur quickly passed around the school that these were Ministry for Magic representatives.

'Good evening esteemed guests, boys and girls,' Professor Prewett said. 'You have all come here tonight wearing your hopes and dreams of glory on your sleeves. Tonight is a night that three of you will never forget, in all your years. For the remainder of you, there will be feelings of disappointment; but I urge you all to abandon any feelings of regret and join quickly in supporting the Champion that is chosen from your school. Once the three Champions are chosen, there is no turning back for them. They are subject to the requirements of the Triwizard Tournament and must complete every task; even unto the death.'

A breathless silence filled the Great Hall. Albus felt like the air was cloying in his lungs. His bones were jangling so loudly inside his body and his teeth chattered together so forcefully, he wondered whether the entire Hall could hear how nervous he was.

All of a sudden, the blue flame of the Goblet of Fire started swirling around and changing form. A buzz rose around the room. The flame turned a ferocious shade of red. With a barely audible rush, a piece of paper burst from the blaze and started floating slowly through the air. Professor Prewett crossed the floor in a few brisk strides and caught the piece of paper. She held it up to the candlelight and read.

'The Champion from Moskva Academy is … Anastacia Volkova!'

A cheer of appreciation went up from the witches and wizards in black, although Albus noticed that several held their heads in their hands. A very tall, long-limbed girl with blonde hair that flowed down her back stood up and made her way across the floor towards Professor Prewett. She had pale skin underneath the brim of her witch's hat, and Albus thought she might have blue eyes.

'If I may speak?' said Dr Vladimir Strovsky, as Anastacia Volkova shook hands with Professor Prewett. Professor Prewett glanced at the Ministry for Magic officials, one of whom shrugged and gave the Russian a curt nod, as to give him permission. He stepped forward, his boots clipping the stone floor loudly. He said, 'I like to give Anastacia an introduction for all of you. Anastacia is top student at Moskva Academy. She is witch with strong grasping of wand work and Charms. She is skilled transfigurator and already possesses animagus qualities. Anastacia is top Champion.'

The Hogwarts students did not quite know what to make of Dr Strovsky's limited grasp of English, his strange accent which did not seem quite Russian but certainly was not English, or his appraisal of his own students. A few people laughed (notably Aberforth, who clutched his side and bawled with merriment), but most erupted into spontaneous and approving applause. Professor Prewett smiled across at Anastacia, who was the same height, and indicated that she follow one of the Ministry representatives through a back door behind the staff table.

The Gryffindor second years barely had time to exchange remarks about how pretty the Russian girl was and how confident she had looked, when the Goblet of Fire did its fiery little dance again and turned bright red. Another piece of paper popped out, and Professor Prewett caught it primly in her right hand. She raised it up, squinting through her monocle to read it.

'The Champion from the Black Forest School of Magical Arts is … Jannes Jakobus Hannes Reinhardt Grundelwald!'

A shiver ran right the length of Albus' spine, from the very roots of the hairs on the back of his neck down to his tail end. The name had frightened him immensely, for no apparent reason. He glanced over quickly to see who this Champion was.

The reaction of the Black Forest Academy of Magical Arts was shockingly different from that of Moskva Academy. They had risen as one to give their new Champion a rousing vote of approval. All held fists to their chests, and a resonant anthem of victory was sung as the Champion marched over to receive Professor Prewett's handshake. Jannes Jakobus Hannes Reinhardt Grundelwald was square-shouldered and stocky. He was shorter than Anastacia Volkova, because Professor Prewett had to look down to congratulate him, but he had a presence about him that nullified her height. In fact, he seemed to tower over Professor Prewett, such was his aura. He wore brown hair combed in a frill over his forehead, above deep set grey eyes, a sharp nose and a square chin. But perhaps the most noticeable feature was the fact that throughout, he persisted in clutching his white wand in his left hand.

Albus felt waves of energy radiating from this character. He could feel the fine hairs on his face standing tall and tingling. He felt goose-pimples all across his skin, even the parts that were covered up by his crimson Gryffindor robes. Jannes Grundelwald was a wizard of immense power. Albus could see it without having to be told or having to see a demonstration. It was a feeling Albus had only twice before encountered; the first when he had seen his father Archaeon angry, and the second when he had come face to face with the great Dark Lord Imhotep in the Egyptian crypt last year.

Admiral Wolfgang Schultz followed in Jannes Grundelwald's footsteps and addressed the entire Great Hall on his Champion's behalf.

'I vood like to introduce Jannes Grundelwald,' Admiral Schultz said in a heavy German accent. 'Grundelwald is a very goot wizard, nein, he is a great wizard. He is a master of all disciplines; Transfiguration, Charms, Defense, Offense, Astronomy, Divination, Arithmancy, Potions and Herbology. Grundelwald is a very goot flier, a very goot man and a very goot wizard. He will be a goot, nein, a great Champion.'

The Great Hall tittered with laughter but gave Jannes Grundelwald an almighty round of applause. Grundelwald glared directly at the Gryffindor stand, where Aberforth was snickering and muttering, 'goot, goot, goot, goot, great, goot … a great big goot', much to the amusement of everyone around him. Suddenly an invisible bolt shot out from Grundelwald's wand in Aberforth's direction. Nobody seemed to notice but Albus. Albus did not know how he did it, but he managed to retrieve his wand from his pocket in time to deflect the spell. It shot harmlessly into the great beyond of the Great Hall ceiling. Jannes Grundelwald looked startled for the briefest of moments, before his face was again plastered with a fathomless expression, and he was herded away by a second Ministry official.

The whole of Hogwarts now turned their attentions on the Goblet of Fire with a level of interest approaching fanaticism. The next name to come out of the Goblet would be not only the last, but would be someone from within the walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Who would it be? Albus quickly forgot about the Grundelwald incident, because so much of his life seemed tied up in the impending announcement. As far as he could think, everything he dreamed of depended upon what was about to happen.

The flames of the Goblet started churning again, and in an instant turned from fierce blue to even fiercer red. For what seemed like infinity, nothing happened. Then, without fuss or splendour, a piece of paper shot out from the flames. Albus strained his eyes, trying desperately to ascertain if this was the piece of paper on which he had written his name. He could not see well enough. His eyes seemed not to be working properly again. He cursed them for playing up at this crucial interval.

Professor Prewett caught the piece of paper and held it up into the light. She frowned, adjusted her monocle, and frowned again. Then, with a spark of realization figured out that she was holding it the wrong way around. Trying not to look too embarrassed, Professor Prewett turned the piece of paper over and read the name of the Champion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

'The third and final Champion,' Professor Prewett said slowly, 'hailing from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; is … Thomas Jones!'

Gryffindor was suddenly on their feet as one, cheering and pumping their fists in the air. Albus, for the second time that night, felt himself carried along by the motion of other human beings. He did not know what emotion to express; sheer and utter relief at not being in the Triwizard Tournament, or immense disappointment that Professor Rolleston's prediction had been wrong. But barely a second later and it did not matter at all. Victoria threw herself into Albus with the force of a storm, giving him the fiercest hug he had ever received.

'Oh, Albus, I'm so glad you didn't get it!' she cried into his neck, 'I was so worried.'

And then, in a moment of remarkable tenderness, Victoria Moody pulled back and gave Albus his first ever kiss.

It lasted less than five seconds, but the after effects were heady. Albus lost track of whatever else was happening around him. He stared at Victoria with wide eyes and a body that had lost all feeling. All he was aware of was her presence, and the memory of what it felt like to have her lips on his.

Fortunately Victoria was slightly more in control of her feelings, because the Gryffindors were starting to take their seats now that Thomas Jones had crossed the floor to shake hands with Professor Prewett. Victoria took Albus' hand and pulled it down so that Albus was forced to sit down. She sat down next to him, her left arm pressed against his right. They were forced to sit in close proximity by the fact that the stand was slightly too small to accommodate seventy Gryffindors in comfort, but this was of no consequence to Albus' madly misfiring neurons at that moment. All he could appreciate was the feeling of Victoria's arm against his.

'Thomas Jones is an exemplary student,' Professor Prewett was saying of the Gryffindor Champion, although Albus barely registered a word. 'He is the Gryffindor House Quidditch Captain, an excellent flier, a top student in Defense against the Dark Arts and has qualities that will hold him in great stead for this Tournament: mental strength, courage, determination and more. He is a worthy Champion of Hogwarts.'

Gryffindor once again broke out into whoops of joy, and the whole school joined in to give Thomas a worthy round of applause. The Ministry for Magic officials led him away, followed by the three Head Teachers and several of the staff. Professor Rolleston had to inform the students that they were now required to return to their respective Houses, and in the case of the guest schools, the specially made dormitories where they were staying.

Albus and Victoria did not move more than an arm-span apart on the way back to Gryffindor, and ignored everything the other Pirates said to them. For Albus, it was not a case of ignoring them; rather, he simply did not register anything anyone said to him. Back in the Gryffindor common room, Albus and Victoria sat down in the Pirates favourite couch, doing nothing but hold hands. It was the warmest, coziest place Albus had ever been. Nothing else seemed to matter, and losing the Triwizard Champion tag to Thomas Jones was the farthest thing from his mind.

It was only when Aberforth came over with Butterbeers and recommended that Albus go over to congratulate Thomas Jones, who had just arrived back from wherever the Ministry officials had taken him, that Albus extricated himself from his seat next to Victoria.

He wandered over to a throng of fifth, sixth and seventh year boys and girls (mostly), who were crowding around Thomas attempting to get a word in with him. Being small and limber, Albus managed to squeeze between peoples legs until he was at the front.

'Oy, Albus mate,' Thomas said, ruffling Albus' auburn hair. 'I'm sorry, my friend.'

'Do not be,' Albus said, offering a handshake and a genuine smile. He found that there was absolutely no disappointment in his voice or his manner. He was truly happy for Thomas. 'You deserve to be Champion, and I promise that every one of the Pirates is entirely behind you.'

'I am glad of that,' Thomas said. 'With such magnificent wizards and witches like the Pirates behind me, I can hardly lose, can I?'

Albus smiled willingly, before hurrying back to where Victoria was sitting on the couch. To his dismay he discovered that the other four Gryffindor second year girls were crowded around her, engaged in what amounted to little more than a gossip-fest. It took a perceptive Mars to pull Albus aside and drag him up to the boys' bedroom.

'What are you taking me up here for?' Albus demanded to know. 'The party has just started.'

'The teasing is going to be relentless,' Mars said shrewdly. 'Already some of the first and third years know about you two. After missing out on being Champion, I don't think you can deal with being teased as well.'

'Who are you to say …' Albus began angrily, but bit his tongue mid-sentence. He saw that Mars was right. But it was not Albus that Mars was protecting, ironically. It was Victoria; for it would be she who would break down in tears should a haggle of people start mocking them for sitting on a couch holding hands.

'Go to bed, Albus,' Mars said, his green eyes softening, 'you will be able to see your fellow lovebird in the morning.'

'Don't you start!' cried Albus. He seized the nearest pillow and chucked it at Mars. Mars was game for a fight, and soon feathers were bursting into flight across the room as the boys had a magnificent pillow duel. Somewhere along the line, Alabastor, Edward and William entered the room and joined in. Much laughter followed, and when Albus sank into a feather strewn bed shortly after midnight, it was with the consummate grin on his face. He was not a Triwizard Champion; but with opponents like Anastacia Volkova and Jannes Grundelwald, that did not seem so bad after all. But overriding it all was the memory of his first kiss, and the extraordinarily warm feeling that Victoria had brought into his chest. Albus slept very well that night.

Author's Note: I hope nobody is too bitterly disappointed that Albus is not going to be the Triwizard Champion this year. Let us all remember that he is only a second year, and at this point could not compete with an Animagus Russian or a powerful German wizard by the name of Grundelwald. Oh, the games that I am going to play with you, my readers, during this story. (Evil, manic laughter)

I just wanted to address a few points readers have raised. 1) The frequency at which I update. I only get time to write on the weekends at the moment. Consequently the best I can do for you is one update a week, usually on a Monday morning. At best I could manage two a week, but at the moment that is not happening. 2) The way people speak. In "Albus Dumbledore and the Phoenix Feather", I tried to use formal language and was criticized for making the language that way. Now I have resorted to more relaxed language, and some of you are pointing out that people didn't talk like that in 1853. Well that is true, but I do not know how they talked in 1853, have no way to research how they did without reading Charles Dickens, and seeing as I cannot be bothered reading Dickens, let us just accept that this is a "translation for modern readers". Keep on reading and reviewing, I like getting feedback both positive and negative. It keeps me honest!