October 31st, 1994.
I wasn't a coward; I wouldn't get up extremely early, hoping no one would catch me slipping my name in the Goblet, I wanted to do it at breakfast. Being the weekend, I decked myself out in all black, slicked on some lipstick, and strutted out of the dorm.
Leaving the cozy common room behind me, I stepped into the well-lit corridor, feeling the crispness of the morning air. The paintings were unusually quiet, and I followed the pathway that led me toward the Great Hall. The castle corridors were strangely empty, and the sunlight filtering through the windows painted warm patches on the cold stone floor. Passing by the windows, I caught glimpses of the outside world: trees swaying in the gentle breeze, leaves painted in rich shades of red, orange, and brown.
The air carried a sense of excitement and possibility like something important was about to happen. Pushing past the doors to the Great Hall, I was greeted by a burst of warm light. The room buzzed with activity, students chatting and eating breakfast. The tables were set with food and drinks, and the smell of toast and porridge hung in the air. Walking between the tables, I felt a mixture of nerves and determination. It was a big step, and as I walked, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.
Beauxbatons students were streaming in from the grounds, including the veela girl. I couldn't help but admire how her hair gleamed in the daylight. The crowd around the Goblet politely made way for them, watching eagerly.
The Durmstrang group had made their way up to the castle from the lake. Viktor Krum was walking into the hall alongside Karkaroff, and the rest of the Durmstrang students trailed behind. All eyes were fixed on Krum, buzzing with excitement, Krum looked unfazed.
I fiddled with the bow at my neck, adjusting the knot that held my cloak. No way was I going to scuttle away like some scared schoolgirl. Instead, I purposefully stepped in front of him.
"Please..." he uttered, his thick accent unmistakable even in those simple words while motioning toward the goblet. I nodded in gratitude and moved toward the blue flames.
Crossing the boundary around the Goblet, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment. "Oh... does anyone have a quill?" I asked, scanning my surroundings. A few eye-rolls from nearby Gryffindors followed. A flustered Durmstrang boy rummaged through his bag, eventually retrieving a quill and stumbling slightly as he handed it to me.
"Thanks," I said, flashing a smile and fluttering my eyelashes. Learn your advantages and then crush them! My father's words echoed in my mind – advice he gave when I complained about someone pulling my hair when I was five. I grinned, using the quill to elegantly pen my name in cursive on the folded parchment. Carelessly, I slid it into the goblet and returned the quill to the boy, whose face turned an even deeper shade of red. Krum gave another nod, not much one for conversation, and proceeded to add his parchment into the goblet as well.
"As if Nott!", Katie Bell rolled her eyes in response.
I winked at her. "You seem a bit green, Bell."
I walked over to my friends, who were already engaged in a hushed conversation about the potential champions over breakfast.
"Oh, come on, it has to be Krum, no way... Oh, who's that? What a spectacle, oh my!" Amelia feigned a swoon when she saw me, leaning into Graham's shoulder. He barely managed to hold her before they both erupted in laughter. I waved them off.
"Yeah, yeah, you kids. You'll acquire some wisdom as you grow older."
The three of us shared a laugh, and I went ahead and put some food on my plate.
"I'm wagering five sickles on Krum."
"Oh, Montague, you dear innocent soul. I'll raise you another five on the veela girl," Amelia declared, shaking his hand.
"Ha! Not a chance. She's charming and all, but did you see that guy do a cartwheel? That's pure talent, mark my words."
"What's the two of you rambling on about?" I asked.
"Pucey sparked a betting frenzy since nobody wants to bet their money with the Weasleys. Naturally, ours are on you for Hogwarts, but believe it or not, Amelia here thinks someone other than Krum might go for Durmstrang. Yeah, right."
"He's the obvious choice, which is exactly why you're going to lose, Montague!"
"Did you see their headmaster? I'm certain they're all throwing Krum's name in just to please him."
"I pray you'll win Montague, and then you can start by paying back what you owe me," I grinned in amusement.
That afternoon, while we all nervously awaited the Halloween feast that would decide the champions, I went on a much-needed stroll with my brother. We walked along the cobblestone pathways, the sound of our footsteps blending with the rustling of the trees.
The trees were painted with plenty of warm shades, their leaves creating a vibrant carpet on the ground. I kicked a few leaves as we walked, enjoying the satisfying crunch under my shoes. The sun cast a warm glow, creating pockets of light amidst the shadows.
My brother looked at me, a puzzled expression on his face. "I don't understand, why would you even want to compete?"
I chuckled, glancing at him. "Don't you worry, the chances of me being chosen are pretty slim, I'd say." I ruffled his hair, earning a mock scowl from him.
He frowned, his brow furrowing. "Don't try to distract me. Did you even tell Father?"
I shook my head, my gaze on the lake ahead of us. "There's nothing to tell."
"You know how he gets, Rose. I think you should have told him first," he insisted, concern evident in his voice.
I took a moment to respond, considering my brother's words.
"Well if I told him, and I don't get chosen tonight, then he would've just worried for nothing. On the other hand, if I do get chosen, there's nothing he can do. He can't sue the entire wizarding world, including me," I explained a hint of amusement in my tone.
"But you know he'll try," Theo laughed, tossing a candy wrapper at me.
I caught it with a grin. "Hey! See? I have great reflexes."
"Oh sure, keep telling yourself that," he teased, giving me a playful nudge. Our laughter filled the air, a moment of sibling camaraderie that felt reassuring amidst the uncertainties of the upcoming feast.
Sitting on the grass near the lake, the two of us found a quiet moment. Such weekend chats were special to me, especially since our busy days often left little time to see each other. Theo wasn't exactly a social butterfly. He had his own set of friends, including Draco Malfoy – someone I had little patience for. However, he tended to keep to himself. While I relished spending downtime with friends in the common room, Theo preferred the solitude of his dormitory or the peaceful corners of the library. Greengrass seemed to have moved on, no longer glued to his side,
The sun cast a warm glow on the water's surface, and a gentle breeze rustled through the grass. In such moments, I felt a deeper connection with my brother, transcending our different personalities. There was something comforting about the way he listened, understanding my thoughts without the need for elaborate words, or any words at all even.
Either way, a sense of duty always pushed me to be a guardian to him. Ever since our mother's passing, I felt the responsibility to fill that presence in his life. Theo's memories of our mother were faint compared to mine. She had passed away a few years before I began school, leaving Theodore still just a small boy. I glanced at him, a soft smile forming as I realized that he was smart enough to manage without my constant worry.
He was tall, with a slender build that seemed to give him a quiet kind of strength. His angular features had a habit of making him look sickly when he couldn't sleep, the dark circles under his eyes were giving it away that afternoon. I didn't Inquire about it but made myself a note to watch him closely until they disappear. Light brown hair, identical to mine, framed his face in soft waves, hinting at his meticulous attention to detail. His steel-blue eyes reminded me of our father, they suggested that underneath them there was an ocean of unspoken thought - my eyes on the other hand were almost black in color and served as yet another reminder of our mother. Dressed in crisp shirts and well-fitted trousers, his wardrobe conveyed a sense of style that spoke of careful consideration and a hidden taste for the refined.
We soon returned to the castle to change for dinner. A sense of nervousness crept over me, I was caught in a swirl of uncertainty. Part of me wished to hear my name called, while another hoped to escape the weight of such a responsibility. On one hand, not being chosen could mean a year of calm, free from additional worries. On the other hand, being chosen might offer the grand adventure that would become a story for my future children, grandchildren, and generations to come. Although I'd never confess it to anyone but Amelia, I enjoyed attention. Somewhere deep inside, I held a small hope that if I were selected, my peers might hold me in even higher regard, a representative they'd be proud of.
I knew Warrington had also submitted his name. However, I couldn't imagine him competing – not without significant help, at least.
Graham approached me, brimming with the latest scoop.
"So, the finals have been narrowed down. It looks like the contenders by house are Johnson, Davies, and Diggory. I'm pretty certain that Warrington will be out of the running, leaving just you and Bole. Although, we do question his charisma..."
"Merlin, Montague, cut it out," I reprimanded him, my patience wearing thin. "Look, we'll find out soon anyway. Why not just take it as it comes?"
"See, she lacks personality as well. Pity," Amelia remarked, linking arms with us as we maneuvered through the crowd toward our seats in the Great Hall.
It was busier than usual, with students from different countries and some older guests we didn't recognize. We sat down and tried to enjoy the meal, but it was tougher than we thought. All the students seemed nervous and jittery, often checking if Dumbledore had finished eating, hoping he'd start talking about the tournament.
The Durmstrang students pretended not to care, but you could tell they were excited from their faces. On the other hand, the French guests seemed genuinely uninterested, not showing any anticipation despite the buzz in the hall, just exchanging pleasantries and eating their meals.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore announced. "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"
Amelia squeezed my hand tightly, and Graham seemed like he might be sick any moment. Dumbledore then waved his wand, and all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins went out. The Goblet of Fire now gleamed brighter than anything else in the Hall, and every eye in the room was fixed on it, waiting with eager anticipation.
Suddenly, to everyone's astonishment, the flames inside the goblet turned a fiery red, and tiny sparks started dancing around it. Among those sparks, a piece of parchment emerged. Dumbledore caught it, holding it up to the light to read. My breath caught in my throat as I watched.
"The Durmstrang champion," he read aloud, his voice firm and clear, "is Viktor Krum."
The Great Hall erupted in thunderous applause, and many students shouted congratulations. As the clapping and chatter gradually subsided, all eyes turned back to the goblet, which, within seconds, blazed red again.
"The Beauxbatons champion," Dumbledore announced, "will be Fleur Delacour!"
The hall burst into applause once again, but my attention was drawn to a few Beauxbatons students who betrayed their emotionless faces. Two girls shedding tears. It struck me that it might not be fair to Fleur, but the girls might be feeling disheartened, yet I quickly pushed that away. The goblet glowed red once more, and a surge of longing filled me. I bit my tongue, an unexpected desire welling up within me. Closing my eyes, I silently pleaded, Let it be me, please!
"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore announced, his voice resonating, "is Rosalie Nott!"
I opened my eyes, half wondering if my mind was tricking me, but then I saw my two friends shouting and clapping wildly. Amelia grabbed my arm and my body moved on its own, as if in a daze. I could hardly believe it – I had been chosen! My heart raced with exhilaration as I walked toward Dumbledore. But before I faced him, I turned to look at my fellow students.
I stood frozen in the moment, my thoughts racing as I walked towards the podium. My ears were ringing but I could feel the heavy air in the scene before me – almost half of the hall was hushed into silence. All my fellow Slytherins were cheering, joined by a number of polite Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, as well as a couple of students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. However, the majority of faces, including everyone at the Gryffindor table, wore expressions of disappointment, making the exuberant cheers from the Slytherin table feel strangely out of place.
My throat tightened as I made my way past the headmaster. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Professor Snape, whose usually smug appearance was now suffused with a sense of pride that he attempted, though not very successfully, to conceal.
''Well done, Miss Nott.'', Professor Snape's voice came, his praise brief before he motioned me toward the door.
A strange warmth welled up in my eyes, and I fought back tears, determined not to show vulnerability now. I bit my lip, pushing away the uneasy sensation. I stepped into the next room, where Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour stood by a crackling fireplace. Their expressions were unexpected – not joyous or victorious, but rather troubled. I settled beside them, my gaze flickering over the dancing flames. Fleur's voice broke the silence
"What is it?" she wondered aloud. "They want us back in the Hall, no?"
I shifted my attention and saw Harry Potter. If I thought I looked rough, he seemed to be in a far worse shape. Amid the uneasy air around us, his expression held not just worry, but something closer to sheer terror.
''Potter, are you alright?'', I took a step closer to him, but we both jumped a little when the professors and Bagman walked into the room. It didn't take me too long to figure out what was going on.
So there I was, just staring at the boy in front of me. Bagman spoke, the professors spoke, and even Dumbledore spoke, but their words kind of blended. My focus was completely on Harry, and it hit me that even though I was in a tough spot, he was about to deal with something worse. I wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but what could I say? He was a Gryffindor; I doubted he was seeking words of reassurance from me.
I shifted my attention to the fireplace, nodding along as if I was listening to the conversation going on around us.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
"No," Harry answered. I wasn't entirely sure if I believed him. Sure, he had a history of getting into all sorts of trouble since his first year, but this situation was on a whole different level.
"Professor!" My voice cracked as I turned toward Dumbledore.
"Miss Nott, let me assure you that we won't be drawing unnecessary attention—" Bagman started saying, but I didn't let him finish.
"He's just a boy! He shouldn't have to, not if he doesn't want to!" I blurted out, my words barely making any sense, glaring at the man who took a step back, taken aback by my reaction.
"Miss Nott!" scolded Professor McGonagall, while Professor Snape watched me sternly from behind Dumbledore.
"Not quite, there's a contract..." Bagman tried to explain.
"I'd like to hear what my father has to say about that contact!" I retorted, my gaze shifting to Harry, who looked utterly bewildered by the chaotic situation.
"I could tell you what your father..." Mad-Eye Moody began, but Dumbledore silenced everyone with a wave of his hand.
''That would be enough! Mr. Bagman, please, go on.'', Dumbledore's voice carried a firmer tone.
I could feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I had never heard the headmaster raise his voice like that before. I turned my attention back to the fireplace, my mind swirling with a mix of emotions. I had just spoken out in front of several professors, and not only that, I had interfered on behalf of a Gryffindor. But then again, Harry was around the same age as my brother, and if it were him, I would have done anything to prevent this.
In those tense moments, as the fate of Harry Potter hung in the balance, I felt a wave of nausea wash over me. I hadn't thought my actions through, and now I was left with the consequences. I managed to apologize for my behavior when it was over, and though Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall regarded me with disapproving looks, I was let off the hook.
They probably pitied me.
I couldn't bear it any longer, so I excused myself for the evening. As I hurried around a corner, seeking the privacy of the dungeon corridor where no one could see me, I finally let my emotions take over. Hot burning tears were streaming down my face.
What had I gotten myself into?