There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day, and nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Arabella, Ron, and Hermione hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall. There they met Lyla, Draco, Blaise, Daphne, and Theo, who were all buzzing with excitement. Over the chatter, the Heads of Houses were trying to order their students into neat lines.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Parvati scowled and removed a sizeable ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

Together, all of Hogwarts students filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling, and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Standing between Ron and Daphne in the fourth row from the front, Arabella saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years.

"Nearly six," muttered Draco, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How do you reckon they're all coming?"

"The train?" suggested Theo.

"I doubt it," said Blaise.

"How, then? Broomsticks?" Lyla suggested, looking up at the starry sky.

"I don't think so…" said Hermione, "not from that far away…."

"A Portkey?" Ron suggested.

"Or they could Apparate—?" chimed in Arabella, scanning the grounds before them. "Maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds," groaned Blaise, "how often do I have to tell you this?"

They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quiet as usual. Arabella was starting to feel cold. She wished they'd hurry up. .. . Maybe the international students were preparing a dramatic entrance. . . . She remembered what Mr. Weasley had said back at the campsite before the Quidditch World Cup: "Always the same - we can't resist showing off when we get together. .."

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers.

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled Cedric, pointing over the forest.

Something significant, much larger than a broomstick— or a hundred broomsticks— was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely. "

Don't be stupid. . . it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.

Dennis's guess was closer. . . . As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a massive, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming into land at a tremendous speed. Then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth-year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

Before it opened, Arabella just had time to see that the carriage door bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars).

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled briefly with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then Arabella saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage— a shoe the size of a child's sled— followed almost immediately by the largest woman she had ever seen. The size of the carriage and of the horses was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

Arabella had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in his life, and that was Hagrid; she doubted whether there was an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow— maybe simply because she was used to Hagrid— this woman (now at the foot of the steps and looking around at the waiting, wide-eyed crowd) seemed even more unnaturally large. As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman. Her face relaxed into a gracious smile, and she walked toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dor," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Arabella, whose attention had been entirely focused upon Madame Maxime, now noticed that about a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes were made of fine silk, and none were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what Arabella could see of them (they were standing in Madame Maxime's enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

"As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him, or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses -"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other charges."

"Skrewts," Draco muttered to Lyla, grinning.

"My steeds require— er— forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong. . . ."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis' Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.

"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

"How big do you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Ron.

"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," replied Ron. "That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?"

"Maybe they've escaped," said Arabella hopefully.

"Oh, don't say that," said Daphne with a shudder. "Imagine that lot loose on the grounds. . . ."

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then—

"Can you hear something?" asked Lyla suddenly.

Arabella listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed.

"The lake!" yelled George, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water— except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, and waves were now washing over the muddy banks - and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor...

What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool. . . and then she saw the rigging.

"It's a mast!" Arabella said to Daphne.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and glided toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Arabella noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle... but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, she saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.

Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle, they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a slight curl) did not entirely hide his relatively weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Arabella noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good... Viktor, come along into the warmth. . . you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Arabella saw a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. She didn't need the punch on the arm Ron gave her or the hiss in his ear to recognize that profile.

"It's— it's Krum!"


I-I don't believe it!" said Draco in a stunned voice as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. "Krum! Viktor Krum!"

"For heaven's sake, Draco, he's only a Quidditch player," said Lyla laughing.

"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron said, looking at her as though he couldn't believe his ears. "Lyla— I don't think you understand— he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

As they recrossed the entrance hall with the rest of the Hogwarts students heading for the Great Hall, Lyla saw George jumping up and down on the soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of Krum's head. Several 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—"

"Do you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

"Really," Hermione said loftily as they passed the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick.

"I'm getting his autograph if I can," said Ron. "You haven't got a quill, have you, Arabella?"

"Nope, they're upstairs in my bag," said Arabella.

Giggling, Lyla followed Draco to the Slytherin table. More shock came when it seemed that the Durmstrang students would be sitting with them while the students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. To her even greater shock, Victor Krum had chosen to sit directly next to Lyla. Draco, who sat on her other side, practically vibrated from silent excitement.

"Why don't you ask for that autograph Ron was talking about," said Blaise in a loud whisper.

The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.

"Shut it, Zabini!" hissed Draco, going scarlet.

"Look at the Beauxbatons lot," said Daphne.

The students in blue were still looking extremely down and cold, and a few even had their heads wrapped in mufflers.

"Oh, come off it," sighed Lyla. "It isn't even that cold!"

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion. Lyla was surprised to see that he had added four chairs, two on either side of Dumbledore.

"But there are only two extra people," Daphne said, her own gaze fixed upward. "Why's Filch putting out four chairs? Who else is coming?"

"Hm?" said Draco vaguely. He was still eyeing Krum curiously.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leaped to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. However, the Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and— most particularly— guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I trust that your stay here will be comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Beauxbatons girls, still clutching a muffler around her head, gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"No one's making you stay!" Lyla whispered, bristling.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and Lyla saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation.

The plates in front of them were 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 than Lyla had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

"What's that?" said Theo, pointing at a large dish of shellfish stew beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," said Daphne.

"Bless you," said Theo.

"It's French," said Daphne with a roll of her eyes, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," he said, helping himself to black pudding.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep blood red.

Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Lyla with a very heavily bandaged hand.

"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" she called.

"Thrivin'!" Hagrid called back happily.

"Yeah, I'll just bet they are," said Blaise quietly. "Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers."

"Draco, do stop staring and eat something, please," chided Lyla in a whisper. "You look mad, eat!"

Draco forcefully turned his eyes free from Krum and mechanically reached for a spoon of treacle tart. The actions that followed only made Lyla laugh harder.

"Excuse me," said a soft voice from behind them, "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.

Theo flushed a deep shade of fuchsia. He stared up at her and opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.

"You can have it," said Daphne, pushing the dish toward the girl.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah…," Theo said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent…"

The girl carefully picked up the dish and carried it to the Ravenclaw table. Theo was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Lyla slapped him hard around the shoulders while Daphne rolled her eyes.

"She's a veela!" he said hoarsely. "Blaise? Draco? Didn't you see that?"

"She's pretty," began Lyla thoughtfully, "but honestly, I don't think—"

"Of course, she isn't!" said Daphne 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 heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Theo.

"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" said Theo, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

Draco and Blaise shared a bewildered glance.

"Excuse you," said Daphne, punching him in the arm. "What a horrid thing to say— I'm absolutely—"

"When you've both put your eyes back in!" cut in Lyla loudly, causing even Krum to glance their way, "you'll be able to see who's just arrived."

She pointed up at the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime.

"What are they doing here?" said Blaise in surprise.

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

When the second course arrived, they noticed a number of unfamiliar desserts too. Blaise closely examined an odd sort of pale blancmange, then moved it carefully a few inches to his right to be visible from the Ravenclaw table. The girl, who looked like a veela, appeared to have eaten enough and did not come over to get it.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension filled the Hall now. Lyla felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket—"

"The what?" Theo muttered.

Blaise shrugged.

"—just to clarify the procedure we will follow 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—" there was a smattering of polite applause "— and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was a much louder applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater or simply because he looked so likable. He acknowledged it with a cheery wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. Remembering him in his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, Lyla thought he looked strange in wizard's robes. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"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 that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "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 tremendous wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked ancient. 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," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. Three tasks will be 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 said calmly, "one from each participating school. 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 lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be visible to everyone in the Hall.

"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, Halloween, 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," said Dumbledore with a chuckle, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of sixteen 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 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 sure that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. 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," said George thoughtfully, "shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing— It can't tell whether you're sixteen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under sixteen will stand a chance," said Hermione, "we just haven't learned enough. . ."

"Speak for yourself," said George shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Arabella?"

Arabella thought briefly of Dumbledore's insistence that nobody under sixteen should submit their name, but then the wonderful picture of himself winning the Triwizard Tournament filled his mind again. .. . He wondered how angry Dumbledore would be if someone younger than seventeen did find a way to get over the Age Line.

"No, I don't think so," she finally said. "I love Hogwarts, and no way in hell am I going to get expelled over something so… so trivial."

"This isn't trivial in the slightest!" bellowed Fred triumphantly. "Just think about it, Arabella! Your name plastered in the history books for eons to come… gold to last you years…."

"You're forgetting who you're talking to," laughed George, who blatantly pointed at the girl's forehead. "But no matter, no matter at all! We'll enter for you and have our names plastered throughout history."

"Where is he?" interrupted Ron, who wasn't listening to a word of the conversation but 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 now level with the Slytherin table, 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?"

Arabella watched as Krum shook his head and pulled his furs back on.

"Professor, I vood like some vine," said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.

"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, you disgusting boy—"

Lyla quickly ran up to Arabella and beamed while Draco and Theo, like Ron, had their gazes fixed on Krum.

Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the doors, reaching them at precisely the exact moment as the small group. Arabella stopped to let him walk through first.

"Thank you," said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at him. And then he froze. He turned his head back to Arabella and stared at her as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Then, they drifted to Lyla and back again. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up each sister's face and fixed upon their identical scars. The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at them too. Out of the corner of his eye, Arabella saw comprehension dawn on a few of their faces. The boy with food all down his front nudged the girl beside him and pointed openly at their forehead.

"Yeah, that's Lyla and Arabella Potter," said a growling voice from behind them.

Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster. The color drained from Karkaroff's face as they watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him.

"Y-you!" he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.

"Me," said Moody grimly. "And unless you've got anything to say to them, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."

It was true; half the students in the Hall were now waiting behind them, looking over one another's shoulders to see what was causing the holdup.

Without another word, 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 mutilated face.

"Hey! Arabella, wait a moment!"

It was Cedric, and his cheeks were pink and flushed from running. Thankfully, the others seemed too tired to tease, and soon it was just Arabella and Cedric who stood alone in the entry hall.

"Awfully exciting, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yeah," replied Arabella." I heard Ernie say something about you entering— you're sixteen?"

Cedric nodded, a small light of pride glinting in his dark hazel eyes.

"Wow," said Arabella. "Just— wow, it's going to be dangerous, won't it?"

"Aw, you worried about me?" Cedric asked cheekily. "I know I've got what it takes to be Hogwarts champion! Can't you have a little faith in me, Potter?"

"Hmmm," mused Arabella thoughtfully, unsuccessfully hiding her smile. "Depends. Have any ideas what the tasks maybe?"

"No clue whatsoever," answered Cedric bashfully, "but with the new rules, I'm sure no one would get too seriously injured. Wish me luck? I think I'll be putting my name in later tonight… when no one can see…."

"If you hadn't noticed," Arabella said with a slight shrug of her shoulders, "I haven't exactly got the best luck myself."

"I don't believe that," Cedric chuckled, making Arabella's knees feel suddenly weak. "You won the Inter-House Cup just last year! You're bloody brilliant!"

Blushing, Arabella promised the bot that she would cheer him on no matter what. As she made her way back to Gryffindor Tower, she felt like she was under the Imperius curse, but this time feeling empty and as light as a cloud.

As the next day was Saturday, most students would usually have breakfast late. Arabella and her friends, however, were no longer alone in rising much earlier. When they entered the entrance hall, they saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It had been placed in the hall's center on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a ten-foot circle around it in every direction.

"Anyone put their name in yet?" Ron asked a third-year girl eagerly.

"All the Durmstrang lot," replied a fifth-year Ravenclaw boy excitedly. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Hermione. "I would've if it had been me. . . wouldn't have wanted everyone watching.

"What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?" asked Lyla.

Someone laughed. Turning, they saw Fred, George, and Lee hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited.

"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper. "Just taken it."

"Taken what?" said Arabella worriedly.

"The Aging Potion, of course," said George.

"One drop each," said Lee, rubbing his hands with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Fred, grinning broadly.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," said Blaise warningly. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."

Fred, George, and Lee ignored her.

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

Arabella watched, fascinated, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley, Hogwarts. He walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a split second, she thought it had worked— George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leaped after Fred— but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter, and the rest of the onlookers, also chortling, went into breakfast.

"Those Weasley boys are something else," giggled Daphne over her morning porridge.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Lyla led the way over to Dean and Seamus, who were discussing those Hogwarts students of sixteen or over who might be entering.

"There's a rumor going around that Higgs got up early and put his name in," Dean sighed.

Lyla, who had played Quidditch with Higgs in her first year, only shook her head. While she had nothing against the boy personally, it was no secret that he wasn't precisely a talented student.

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory," said Seamus contemptuously. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."

Arabella frowned at that remark.

"Listen!" said Hermione suddenly.

People were cheering out in the entrance hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. A tall black girl who played Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Angelina, came over to them, sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"You're kidding!" said Ron, looking impressed.

"Are you sixteen, then?" asked Arabella.

"Course she is. Can't see a beard, can you?" laughed Draco.

"I had my birthday last week," said Angelina, gleaming with pride.

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

"Thanks, Hermione," said Angelina, smiling at her.

"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl heavily at him.

"Diggary's fine," said Arabella, which caused Angelina to raise her brows and grin almost as mischievous as the Weasley twins.

"Noticed you two talking in the entry hall last night," she said slyly. "Are you and Diggary—"

"What're we going to do today, then?" Arabella asked, cutting the other girl's question short.

"We haven't been down to visit Hagrid yet," said Daphne.

"Okay," said Draco, "just as long as he doesn't ask us to donate a few fingers to the skrewts."

A look of great excitement suddenly dawned on Blaise's face.

"I've just realized— Hermione! We haven't asked Hagrid to join S.P.E.W. yet!"

Hermione leaped to her feet, face bright with excitement.

"Good thinking Blaise! Wait for me, will you, while I nip upstairs and get the badges?"

"Hmph," grunted Ron, exasperated, as Hermione ran away up the marble staircase.

"Hey, Theo," said Lyla, giggling, "look, over there, it's your friend. . ."

The students from Beauxbatons were coming through the front doors from the grounds, among them, the veela-girl. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly.

Madame Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks.

"What d'you reckon will happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" Ron muttered as the veela-girl dropped her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. "Reckon they'll go back to school, or hang around to watch the tournament?"

"Dunno," said Daphne. "Hang around, I suppose... Madame Maxime's staying to judge, isn't she?"

When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again.

"Where are they sleeping, then?" said Ron, moving toward the front doors and staring after them. Both he and Theo had the same misty look.

A loud rattling noise behind them announced Hermione's reappearance with the box of S. P. E.W. badges.

"Oh good, hurry up," said Theo, and he jumped down the stone steps, keeping his eyes on the back of the veela-girl, who was now halfway across the lawn with Madame Maxime.

As they neared Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the mystery of the Beauxbatons' sleeping quarters was solved. The gigantic powder-blue carriage in which they had arrived had been parked two hundred yards from Hagrid's front door, and the students were climbing back inside it. The elephantine flying horses that had pulled the carriage were now grazing in a makeshift paddock alongside it.

Draco knocked on Hagrid's door, and Fang's booming barks answered instantly.

"Bout time!" said Hagrid when he'd flung open the door. "Thought you lot'd forgotten where I lived!"

"We've been really busy, Hag—" Daphne started to say, but then she stopped dead, looking up at Hagrid, apparently lost for words.

Hagrid was wearing his best (and very horrible) hairy brown suit, plus a checked yellow-and-orange tie. This wasn't the worst of it, though; he had evidently tried to tame his hair, using large quantities of what appeared to be axle grease. It was now slicked down into two bunches - perhaps he had tried a ponytail like Bill's but found he had too much hair. The look didn't really suit Hagrid at all. For a moment, Daphne goggled at him,

"Erm - where are the skrewts?" she asked, obviously deciding not to comment.

"Out by the pumpkin patch," said Hagrid happily. "They're get-tin' massive, mus' be nearly three foot long now. On'y trouble is, they've started killin' each other."

"Oh no, really?" said Draco, shooting a repressive look at Ron and Theo, who both were staring at Hagrid's odd hairstyle.

"Yeah," said Hagrid sadly. "S' okay, though, I've got 'em in separate boxes now. Still got abou' twenty."

"Well, that's lucky," said Blaise lightly. Hagrid missed the sarcasm.

Hagrid's cabin comprised a single room, in one corner of which was a gigantic bed covered in a patchwork quilt. A similarly enormous wooden table and chairs stood before the fire beneath the quantity of cured hams and dead birds hanging from the ceiling. They sat down at the table while Hagrid started to make tea and was soon immersed in yet more discussion of the Triwizard Tournament. He seemed quite as excited about it as they were.

"You wait," he said, grinning. "You jus' wait. Yer going ter see some stuff yeh've never seen before. Firs' task. . . ah, but I'm not supposed ter say."

Go on, Hagrid!" Lyla urged, but the big man just shook his head, grinning.

"I don' want ter spoil it fer yeh," he said. "But it's gonna be spectacular, I'll tell yeh that. Them champions're going ter have their work cut out. Never thought I'd live ter see the Triwizard Tournament played again!"

They ended up having lunch with Hagrid, though they didn't eat much— Hagrid had made what he said was a beef casserole, but after Hermione unearthed a large talon in hers, the rest had somewhat lost their appetites. However, they enjoyed themselves trying to make Hagrid tell them what the tasks in the tournament were going to be, speculating which of the entrants were likely to be selected as champions and wondering whether Fred and George were beardless yet.

A light rain had started to fall by midafternoon; it was very cozy sitting by the fire, listening to the gentle patter of the drops on the window, watching Hagrid darning his socks and arguing with Hermione about house elves -for he flatly refused to join S.P.E.W. when she showed him her badges.

"It'd be doin' 'em an unkindness," he said gravely, threading a massive bone needle with thick yellow yarn. "It's in their nature ter look after humans, that's what they like, see? Yeh'd be makin' 'em unhappy ter take away their work, an' insutin' 'em if yeh tried ter pay 'em."

"But Arabella set Dobby free, and he was over the moon about it!" argued Blaise. "And we heard he's asking for wages now!"

"Yeah, well, yeh get weirdos in every breed. I'm not sayin' there isn't the odd elf who'd take freedom, but yeh'll never persuade most of 'em ter do it - no, nothin' doin'."

Hermione looked very cross indeed but stuffed her box of badges back into her cloak pocket without further argument. By half past five, it was growing dark, and the group of fourth years decided it was time to get back up to the castle for the Halloween feast— and, more importantly, the announcement of the school champions.

"I'll come with yeh," said Hagrid, putting away his darning. "Jus' give us a sec."

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

"Hagrid, what's that?" coughed Ron.

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

"Is that— is that aftershave?" said Daphne in a slightly choked voice.

"Er— eau de cologne," Hagrid muttered. He was blushing madly. "Maybe it's a bit much, I'll go take it off, hang on..."

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

"Eau de cologne?" said Lyla in amazement. "Hagrid?"

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

"Look!" said Ron suddenly, pointing out of the window. Hagrid had just straightened up and turned 'round. It was nothing to what he was doing now if he had been blushing before. Getting to their feet very cautiously so that Hagrid wouldn't spot them, they slowly crept to the window, peered through, and watched as Madame Maxime and the Beauxbatons students had just emerged from their carriage, clearly about to set off for the feast too. They couldn't hear what Hagrid was saying, but he was talking to Madame Maxime with a rapt, misty-eyed expression Harry had only ever seen him wear once before - when he had been looking at the baby dragon, Norbert.

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

Without so much as a backward glance at his cabin, Hagrid was trudging off up the grounds with Madame Maxime, the Beaux-batons students following in their wake, jogging to keep up with their enormous strides.

"He fancies her!" said Arabella.

"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. It was surprisingly dark outside. Drawing their cloaks more closely around themselves, they set off up the sloping lawns.

"Ooh, it's them, look!" Hermione whispered.

The Durmstrang party was walking up toward the castle from the lake. Viktor Krum was walking side by side with Karkaroff, and the other Durmstrang students were straggling along behind them. Ron and Draco watched Krum excitedly, but Krum did not look around as he reached the front doors a little ahead of the group of Hogwarts students and proceeded through them.


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