Chapter 9: Goblet of FIre

October 30, 2001 – Tuesday

Great Hall

Ron's incredulous exclamation filled the air as the Hogwarts students made their way up the steps, following the Durmstrang party. "I don't believe it!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with astonishment. "Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!"

Hermione, ever the voice of reason, rolled her eyes at Ron's reaction. "For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," she remarked, her tone slightly exasperated.

Ron turned to Hermione, looking genuinely surprised. "Only a Quidditch player?" he repeated, as though Hermione had just uttered the most absurd statement. "Hermione - he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

Dawn, who had been listening to the conversation, couldn't quite grasp the fuss. She spoke up, her curiosity evident. "So what?" she asked. "He's only human. What's so special about him?"

Ron exchanged an amused glance between the twins and shook his head. Turning to Harry, he couldn't help but mutter, "Girls!"

Harry simply shrugged, not wanting to get caught up in the debate.

As they walked, several sixth-year girls were in a frenzy, frantically searching their pockets. One of them exclaimed, "Oh, I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me."

Another girl chimed in with enthusiasm, "D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

Hermione, with her usual practicality, responded loftily as they passed the girls, who were now squabbling over the lipstick. "Really," she said, her tone carrying a touch of disapproval.

Dawn couldn't help but share Hermione's sentiment. "Talk about obsessed much," she remarked as they continued walking, Hermione nodding in agreement. "You would never catch me obsessing over someone like that."

Ron, on the other hand, had a different perspective. "I'm getting his autograph if I can," he declared. "You haven't got a quill, have you, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope, they're upstairs in my bag," he replied.

As they walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down, Ron strategically chose a seat facing the doorway, keeping a watchful eye on Krum and his Durmstrang companions who still stood near the entrance, clearly unsure of where to sit. Meanwhile, the Beauxbatons students had opted for seats at the Ravenclaw table, their expressions laden with gloom. Some of them clung to their scarves and shawls as if the cold were unbearable.

"It's not that cold," Hermione remarked defensively, her gaze fixed on the Beauxbatons students' attire. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?"

"Over here! Come and sit over here!" Ron hissed urgently, his eyes fixed on Krum, wanting the famed Quidditch player to join their group. "Over here! Hermione, Dawn, budge up, make a space -"

"What?" Hermione and Dawn exclaimed simultaneously, their faces a mix of confusion and annoyance.

"Too late," Ron replied bitterly, his tone tinged with disappointment as Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students settled themselves at the Slytherin table.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," Ron muttered scathingly under his breath. "I bet Krum can see right through him, though…bet he gets people fawning over him all the time …Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry…I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed," he said, his voice carrying a touch of longing, while Hermione couldn't help but suppress a chuckle.

Dawn cast a fleeting, incredulous look at Ron before turning to her twin with a raised eyebrow. "'Mione, if I ever act that obsessed over anybody, you have my permission to slap me upside the head."

Hermione nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Deal, Dawnie."

"They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot," Harry observed, a trace of envy in his voice as he watched the Durmstrang students.

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was inexplicably adding four chairs, which left Harry scratching his head in confusion. "But there are only two extra people," he said, perplexed, as he watched Filch's strange actions. "Why's Filch putting out four chairs, who else is coming?"

"Eh?" Ron responded vaguely, still entranced by his fixation on Krum.

As all the students filed into the Great Hall and settled down at their respective House tables, the staff entered one by one, making their way to the top table and taking their seats. Bringing up the rear were Buffy, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their imposing headmistress made her appearance, the Beauxbatons students jumped to their feet, causing a few chuckles from the Hogwarts students. However, the Beauxbatons group seemed unperturbed, and they only resumed their seats once Madame Maxime had settled down to Dumbledore's left.

Dumbledore, still standing, broke the silence with a warm smile as he addressed the foreign students. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," he said, his eyes twinkling as he looked around at the diverse assembly. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

A Beauxbatons girl, still clutching her muffler around her head, let out an unmistakably derisive laugh in response to Dumbledore's greeting. Hermione, not one to let such behavior slide, couldn't help but whisper indignantly, "No one's making you stay!" Her words were laced with irritation as she bristled at the girl's rudeness.

Dawn nodded in agreement, her expression mirroring Hermione's annoyance. "Yeah," she whispered in solidarity.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Dumbledore announced, his voice carrying a sense of anticipation. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

As Dumbledore spoke, the plates in front of them filled with a sumptuous feast, and the house-elves in the kitchen appeared to have gone all out. A stunning array of dishes graced the tables, more diverse than Harry had ever seen before, with some distinctly foreign offerings.

"What's that?" Ron asked, pointing at a generous serving of what appeared to be shellfish stew, placed beside a substantial steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," Hermione answered.

"Bless you," Ron quipped, causing Dawn to stifle a chuckle.

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes playfully. "It's French," she explained patiently. "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," Ron responded with a grin, helping himself to a generous portion of black pudding.

Dawn couldn't help but smile at Hermione as she dished up some of the bouillabaisse and took a bite. "Ooh, this is good," she exclaimed, savoring the delicious flavors.

Hermione beamed at her twin and gestured towards Ron. "See, Ron, even Dawn thinks it's good. You should try some," she urged, hoping to persuade him to expand his culinary horizons.

Hagrid made a rather dramatic entrance into the Hall about twenty minutes into the feast, slipping in through a door behind the staff table. He settled into his seat at the end of the table and waved enthusiastically at Harry, Dawn, Ron, and Hermione, though his hand was heavily bandaged.

"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called out, concern in his voice.

Hagrid, clearly pleased with the question, responded with a boisterous, "Thrivin'!"

Ron, however, muttered under his breath, "Yeah, I'll just bet they are. Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers."

At that moment, a distinctly French-accented voice chimed in, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" It was the same Beauxbatons girl who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech.

Ron turned several shades of red and stared at the girl, his mouth hanging open as if he had forgotten how to speak, emitting only a faint, embarrassing gurgling noise.

Harry, ever the quick thinker, came to the rescue, his voice steady as he pushed the dish toward the girl. "Yeah, have it," he said generously, coming to Ron's aid.

The Beauxbatons girl, seeming pleased with their response, inquired further, "You 'ave finished wiz it?" Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Yeah," Ron replied breathlessly, struggling to regain his composure. "Yeah, it was excellent."

Dawn couldn't help but roll her eyes at Ron's momentary loss of words. She took charge, serving herself a second helping of the bouillabaisse and saying, "One second, then you can have it." She offered a friendly smile to the girl. "Now you can have it. It's quite good."

The Beauxbatons girl smiled back appreciatively and nodded. "It is," she agreed, her accent lending an exotic charm to her words. She carefully picked up the dish and gracefully carried it away to the Ravenclaw table.

Ron continued to goggle at the girl as though he had never seen one before, his astonishment evident. Harry couldn't help but burst into laughter, finding Ron's reaction quite amusing.

"She's a veela!" Ron finally managed to croak out to Harry, his voice a mix of amazement and disbelief.

Hermione, never one to mince words, responded tartly, "Of course she isn't! I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!" Dawn nodded emphatically in agreement with Hermione's assessment.

"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" Ron persisted, his conviction unwavering. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

Harry chuckled and retorted, "They make them okay at Hogwarts."

Dawn chimed in, supporting Harry's point, "Yeah, Ron. If you would take your eyes off her for a moment, you would see both Hermione and I are made the same way she is." Her words carried a hint of playful exasperation as she teased her friend about his infatuation.

"When you've both put your eyes back in," Hermione quipped briskly, "you'll be able to see who's just arrived." She pointed up at the staff table, drawing their attention to the two newly filled seats. Ludo Bagman had taken his place beside Professor Karkaroff, while Mr. Crouch sat next to Madame Maxime.

"What are they doing here?" Harry asked, his surprise evident.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" Hermione replied matter-of-factly. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

Once the plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore rose to his feet once more. "The moment has come," he declared. "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?" Harry mumbled, looking bewildered, as Ron and Dawn exchanged shrugs.

"—just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year," Dumbledore continued, undeterred. "But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, his voice carrying the weight of anticipation. "And they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts. Professor Summers will act as added security for the tasks. The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Dawn shot a glare at Buffy, silently questioning why she hadn't shared this information with her and Hermione earlier. Buffy responded with a mischievous grin, leaving Dawn to ponder her older sister's secretive involvement in the tournament.

Filch made his way to Dumbledore, carrying a magnificent wooden chest adorned with jewels that sparkled in the candlelight.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," Dumbledore explained, his words filled with gravitas. "And they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, 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."

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore continued calmly, his voice carrying the weight of tradition. "One from each of the participating schools. 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 produced his wand and tapped three times on the top of the casket. Slowly, the lid creaked open. From within, he retrieved a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. Once he had placed it on top of the casket for all to see, he closed the lid, making the goblet the center of attention in the Great Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as a champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," Dumbledore explained. "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."

Dumbledore then added a precautionary measure: "To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, 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 seventeen will be able to cross this line."

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly," Dumbledore warned. "Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is 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 very sure, therefore, 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."

Dawn exchanged a relieved smile with Hermione as Dumbledore's speech came to a close. "I'm glad there is no way for either of us to enter," she whispered, a hint of gratitude in her voice.

"An Age Line!" Fred Weasley chimed in, his mischievous grin widening. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing - it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

Hermione, however, was quick to dismiss the idea. "But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," she reasoned, her practicality shining through. "We just haven't learned enough…"

George, Fred's twin, interjected with a hint of determination. "Speak for yourself," he said shortly, his competitive spirit on display. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry?"

Ron, seemingly more concerned with the logistics of the tournament, asked, "Where is he?" referring to Krum. "Dumbledore didn't say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?"

Meanwhile, Karkaroff was addressing Viktor Krum, showing concern for Krum's well-being. "Back to the ship, then," he suggested. "Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

"Professor, I would like some wine," one of the other Durmstrang boys piped up hopefully.

"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff, his irritation clear. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy."

Karkaroff then turned and led his students toward the exit, reaching the doors simultaneously with Harry, Dawn, Ron, and Hermione. They paused to let the Durmstrang headmaster pass through first.

"Thank you," Karkaroff said carelessly, glancing at Harry.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," Professor Moody chimed in, his magical eye whirling.

Karkaroff's demeanor shifted as he stared at Moody, seemingly unsure if he was truly seeing the retired Auror. "You."

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

Without another word, Professor Karkaroff briskly led his students out the door with him.

As they made their way upstairs, Dawn and Hermione decided to pay a visit to Buffy. "We're going to see Buffy," Dawn called out to Harry and Ron. "We'll see you in the common room."

Buffy's Suite

A couple of minutes later, Hermione and Dawn entered Buffy's room to find their older sister already there.

"Buffy, what's this about you being security for the tasks?" Dawn asked, her curiosity piqued.

Buffy smiled, her expression confident. "Actually, that was my idea, Dawn. I asked Dumbledore to allow me to be security so that I could keep an eye on things. That way, should someone try and come for you during one of the tasks…"

Dawn nodded in understanding, realizing that it was more about protecting her than simply ensuring the safety of the champions. "Got it," she said with a sense of gratitude.

Hermione, on the other hand, couldn't help but join in the conversation, her concern for Dawn's safety evident. "Do we have any more news on Glory?"

Buffy nodded, her expression serious. "So far, the robot is doing its job. Glory still thinks I'm in Sunnydale."

"That's good," Hermione said, her voice laced with hope. "Hopefully, she will just give up."

"One could hope," Dawn added, her tone less optimistic. "But I have my doubts. I pretty much expect she will come looking for me."

Buffy agreed, her concern for her sisters evident. "I'm in agreement," she said firmly. "Which means we need to take steps to protect you. After dinner from now on, I want the two of you to join me in here. We're going to start sparring. Hand to hand at first and then with weapons later. I want you both able to defend yourselves. Hermione, I want you to teach us all the offensive and defensive spells you know."

Hermione nodded, her determination matching Buffy's. "I can do that."

Dawn, however, remained concerned. "But how are we going to defend ourselves from Glory?" she asked, her worry palpable. "She's hurt you the few times you fought her. And you're stronger than both of us."

Buffy let out a sigh, acknowledging the truth in Dawn's words. "That is true, as much as I hate to admit it," she admitted. "Your first instinct should be to run. That's why I want Hermione teaching us some spells. We shoot them off and try to get her knocked back so we can run. If we can't get her on the ropes, we'll focus on hand-to-hand combat and using weapons."

October 31, 2001 – Wednesday

Great Hall

As Harry, Dawn, Ron, and Hermione made their way down to breakfast, they noticed a considerable crowd gathered around the Goblet of Fire in the Entrance Hall.

"Anyone put their name in yet?" Ron inquired, addressing one of the students present. His eyes were wide with curiosity, and he couldn't wait to hear the answer.

"All the Durmstrang lot," the student replied, their voice tinged with a hint of awe. "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," Harry mused, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and wonder. "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?" \

Fred and George, the Weasley twins, and their friend Lee Jordon, joined the quartet at that moment, and Fred announced, "Done it. Just taken it."

"What?" Ron exclaimed, his curiosity piqued.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains," Fred told his younger brother with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"One drop each," said George, his tone lighthearted but determined. "We only need to be a few months older." Their plan was daring, and the anticipation was palpable.

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Lee, a sense of camaraderie and adventure shining in his eyes.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," said Hermione warningly, her voice filled with concern. She couldn't help but worry about the consequences of tampering with the Goblet of Fire. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."

Dawn nodded in agreement. Dumbledore was the only other person in the castle, besides Hermione and Buffy, who knew she was the Key. She was sure Dumbledore had made sure that there was no way her name could be added to the goblet by anyone. At least she hoped so anyway.

"Ready?" Fred said, looking at his twin with a mixture of excitement and determination. "C'mon, then—I'll go first—"

The quartet watched in suspense as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket, bearing his name. His steps were deliberate, and the air was thick with anticipation as he walked right up to the edge of the line. Fred took a great breath, and his boldness was evident as he stepped over the line.

For a split second, Dawn could have sworn that it had worked as George followed his twin across the line. The tension in the room was palpable, but then there was a loud, sizzling sound, and both Fred and George were hurled out of the golden circle. They landed ten feet away on the cold stone floor, their faces adorned with identical long white beards.

Dawn couldn't contain her laughter, and it echoed through the entrance hall, joining the chorus of amusement from other students who were equally entertained by the Weasley twins' misadventure.

"I did warn you," said Hermione, her tone tinged with a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. Her caution had proven to be well-founded.

Dumbledore, wearing a knowing smile, emerged from the Great Hall and surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett of Ravenclaw and Mr. Thomas 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, their faces reddened with embarrassment, set off for the hospital wing, their beards swaying with each step.

Harry, Dawn, Ron, and Hermione proceeded into the Great Hall for breakfast, their minds still buzzing with the events that had unfolded earlier. They took their seats next to Dean and Seamus, seeking solace in the familiarity of their friends.

"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," Dean said, his voice hushed with a hint of concern.

"That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth," Harry replied, shaking his head in disgust. The idea of a Slytherin champion was not a pleasant one for him, and his emotions were clearly written on his face.

"We can't have a Slytherin champion!" Dean said, his words echoing the sentiment shared by many in the room.

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory," said Seamus contemptuously, his disdain evident. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks." The rivalry between the houses was becoming more pronounced as the tension in the room grew.

"Listen!" said Hermione suddenly, her eyes widening with realization.

Dawn turned her attention to Hermione, her curiosity piqued, and followed her gaze to the door leading back into the entrance hall. The sound of cheering and excitement spilled into the Great Hall, filling it with an electric atmosphere.

Angelina Johnson came running into the Hall, her face flushed with excitement. "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"You're kidding!" said Ron, his eyebrows shooting up in genuine surprise.

"Are you seventeen, then?" asked Harry, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Course she is, can't see a beard, can you?" said Ron with a playful grin, earning an eye-roll from Dawn.

"I had my birthday last week," said Angelina, her excitement still bubbling over.

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

Dawn nodded in agreement, a supportive smile on her face. "So do I."

"Thanks, Hermione, Dawn," said Angelina, her gratitude shining through as she looked at her fellow Gryffindors.

"What're we going to do today, then?" Ron asked gently, his concern for their plans evident as the quartet finished their breakfast. The anticipation for the Goblet of Fire ceremony that evening had led to a special treat from Dumbledore – the cancellation of classes for the day.

"We haven't been down to visit Hagrid yet," said Harry as they got up and made their way toward the Entrance Hall.

"Okay," said Ron, a touch of reluctance in his voice, "just as long as he doesn't ask us to donate a few fingers to the skrewts."

Dawn grimaced, her agreement clear. "Yeah, I would rather keep away from those things as much as I could."

As the quartet entered the Entrance Hall, their attention was drawn to the arrival of the students from Beauxbatons, who were making their way through the front doors from the grounds. Among them was the veela-girl, her presence captivating and enchanting those who laid eyes on her. The students gathered around the Goblet of Fire respectfully made way for them, their eyes filled with anticipation.

Madame Maxime followed her students into the hall 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.

"What d'you reckon'll happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" Ron muttered, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Reckon they'll go back to school, or hang around to watch the tournament?"

"Dunno," said Harry, his gaze fixed on the Beauxbatons students. "Hang around, I suppose… Madame Maxime's staying to judge, isn't she?"

Dawn shrugged, her thoughts mirroring Harry's. "Probably hang around."

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

"Where are they sleeping, then?" said Ron, his curiosity shifting to practical matters.

Hagrid's Hut

"'Bout time!" said Hagrid, his booming voice filled with warmth and welcome as he opened the door to his hut. "Thought you lot'd forgotten where I live!"

"We've been really busy, Hag—" Hermione began, but her words trailed off as she glanced around, her eyes searching for something. "Erm—where are the skrewts."

"Out by the pumpkin patch," said Hagrid, a proud smile on his face. "They're gettin' massive, mus' be nearly three foot long now. On'y trouble is, they've started killin' each other."

"Oh no, really?" said Hermione, her concern evident. Dawn shared Hermione's sentiment, knowing that she hated the skrewts as much as her sister did.

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

"Well, that's lucky," said Ron with a hint of relief in his voice as they settled into the hut, the twins taking seats next to each other.

"You wait," Hagrid said, his eyes gleaming with excitement, his enthusiasm infectious. "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!" Harry, Dawn, Ron, and Hermione urged him, their curiosity piqued.

"I don' want ter spoil it fer yeh," said Hagrid, his voice filled with a sense of mystery. "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!"

As they chatted and speculated over lunch, they couldn't help but wonder about the challenges that lay ahead. The excitement in the air was tangible, and they were all eager to see how the tournament would unfold. The mention of Fred and George's beards, or lack thereof, brought a lighthearted touch to their conversation, momentarily distracting them from the impending event.

A light rain had started to fall by midafternoon, creating a cozy atmosphere inside Hagrid's hut. They huddled by the fire, the gentle patter of raindrops on the window providing a soothing backdrop as they enjoyed the simple pleasures of companionship and anticipation.

By half past five, the gathering darkness signaled that it was time for Dawn, Ron, Harry, and Hermione to make their way back up to the castle. The Halloween feast was on the horizon, and the announcement of the school champions was a highly anticipated event.

"I'll come with yeh," said Hagrid, his large frame rising from his chair

Great Hall

When they entered the candlelit Great Hall, it was almost full, and an air of anticipation hung heavy in the room. The Goblet of Fire had been relocated, now standing prominently in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table.

"Hope it's Angelina," said Fred with a hopeful glint in his eye, and Dawn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded in agreement as they took their seats.

"So do I!" said Hermione breathlessly, her excitement palpable. Dawn shared the sentiment. "Well, we'll soon know!"

The Halloween feast seemed to stretch on longer than usual as the anticipation grew with every passing moment. Dumbledore finally addressed the gathered students.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore with an air of gravitas. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber," he indicated the door behind the staff table, "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it, extinguishing all the candles in the Hall except those inside the carved pumpkins. The Goblet of Fire now shone brilliantly, capturing everyone's attention as they watched and waited with bated breath.

"Any second," Lee Jordan whispered, his voice barely audible in the hushed anticipation that enveloped the Great Hall.

The flames inside the Goblet of Fire turned suddenly red again, and sparks began to fly from it. It was a moment of intense suspense. Then, in the blink of an eye, a tongue of flame shot into the air, and a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it. The entire room gasped in unison.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had now turned back to their calm blue-white hue. "The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!" yelled Ron with a grin as Viktor got up and left the room, his selection met with approval and expectation.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, his voice filled with pride. "Knew you had it in you!"

A second piece of parchment shot out of the Goblet of Fire, propelled by the flames, and the room held its collective breath once more.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, his voice carrying across the silent Great Hall, "is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her, Ron!" Harry exclaimed, realization dawning as they recognized the veela-girl.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione observed with a wry smile, noticing the reactions of the other Beauxbatons students.

Dawn shook her head. "That's a bit of an understatement, 'Mione. They've burst into tears." She couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the disappointed Beauxbatons students as some of the girls from the French school were indeed shedding tears.

A third piece of parchment shot out of the Goblet of Fire, propelled by the flames, and the tension in the Great Hall continued to mount.

"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore announced, his voice resolute, "is Cedric Diggory!"

"No!" said Ron loudly, his voice filled with disbelief.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily, his joy contrasting with Ron's reaction. "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—"

But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. The fire in the Goblet of Fire had just turned red once again. Sparks were flying out of it, and a long flame shot suddenly into the air, bearing upon it another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it, a profound silence enveloping the Great Hall. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes were fixed on the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore, their breath held in suspense.

Before Dumbledore called out the name on the fourth piece of paper, a fifth piece of parchment shot out of the Goblet of Fire. He caught it with a start and looked at what it said, his face going white as color drained from it.

"Harry Potter! Dawn Summers!" Dumbledore's voice echoed through the hall, the shock and gravity of the moment palpable.