CHAPTER NINE: THE CHAMPIONS

Millicent Bulstrode, Hermione Granger, and Lilian Moon's Dormitory Room

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

7 September 1994

"So, did both of you put your names in the Goblet?" Lily asked as she sprawled across her bed, chin propped on her hands. "I put mine in last night."

Hermione looked up from an Arithmancy calculation. "I put mine in last night, too."

"I didn't."

Hermione looked at Millie in confusion. "You didn't? Why wouldn't you?"

Millie shrugged. "Didn't want to."

"Why not?"

Millie shrugged again, shoulders hunching. "Dunno."

"C'mon, there's got to be some reason!"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"...so there is a reason, then."

Millie was silent.

"Millie?"

"Don't push it. Please."

"Are you scared of something?"

"Don't push it."

"Is it -" Lily hesitated "-is it something to do with your parents?"

The question hung heavily in the air, and Hermione stopped scratching away at Arithmancy to fully listen. Something had changed in Millie's face; something was missing, and Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"You know I can't answer that question."

"Millie -"

"Don't."

"I just want to -"

"-you're not being helpful."

"I'm sorry, I -"

"-just stop. Please."

Lily opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. Slowly, the tension began to seep out of the air, and Hermione turned back to her desk, pretending to work on Arithmancy while her head spun. She had to be missing some crucial piece of information. It made no sense for Millie's parents to forbid her from entering in the Triwizard Tournament.

Hermione closed her eyes in frustration. She knew there was some detail about Millie's family she was forgetting, but she couldn't for the life of her remember what it was.

12 Grimmauld Place

London, England

7 September 1994

It was always dark in 12 Grimmauld Place, and each time he went up or down the main stairs, Sirius could feel the eyes of the dead house elves watching him. He'd nearly murdered Kreacher because the bloody thing wouldn't leave him alone, muttering endlessly, hovering in corners, bloodshot eyes tracking Sirius' every move. It was only through Harry's insistence over the summer that Sirius hadn't offed the deranged house elf, and Sirius was sorely regretting the promise he'd made his godson.

Grimmauld Place was more sinister without Harry's cheerful presence, and Sirius could feel himself sinking deeper into his Azkaban-self. His mind was quick to jump from one downward spiral to the next, sinking deeper into guilt, frustration, falling into gut-wrenching heartbreak which hurt badly enough that it was all Sirius could do to curl up in a ball in his bed and try to forget the world existed.

It was easier, when Harry was around, to ignore his Azkaban-self and pretend everything was normal. Without him...Sirius didn't know if he'd have a reason to keep living. A sharp rap sounded on the window, and Sirius flinched. It was an owl. It wasn't just any owl, however. No, Sirius was far too well acquainted with this particular owl, a regal eagle owl belonging to Lucius Malfoy.

Fingers trembling, Sirius pushed himself out of bed, and unlatched the window. The owl flew in, and stared at him disdainfully before extending a leg. Gingerly, Sirius removed the letter, and broke the seal.

Sirius -

While I must respect your privacy and need for recovery after your forced incarceration, I must remind you once more of your civic duties. The Black seat has languished for far too long, and I strongly urge you to take up your rightful place. After all we have done to help you rehabilitate yourself, the only thing I ask is for you to help restore the Noble and Moste Ancient House of Black to its proper place in the Wizengamot.

Until then, I remain,

Your loving cousin Narcissa

Sirius let out a slow breath. He'd been expecting worse, far worse, especially given Lucius' proclivity for insidiousness. Narcissa, on the other hand, was family of a sort, which made matters better on one hand, and worse on the other. Sirius knew the Black family inheritance laws as well as his cousin, and he knew Narcissa would be priming Draco to take over the Black seat on the House of Lords when Sirius finally kicked the bucket.

Sirius was almost certain that she was only counting down the days. Although, Draco had been on the outs with the rest of the Malfoys recently, so perhaps Narcissa was hoping Sirius would continue living for a while longer. It was impossible to tell anything when Malfoys were concerned, except for that they clearly expected him to take a strong Traditionalist stance. That was very obvious, and something Sirius wasn't sure he believed in. His parents had been hardlined Blood Purists, and Sirius had by far preferred the more Progressive leaning policies pushed forward by Charlus Potter, Thomas Weasley, and William Prewett.

Then, the Dark Lord happened.

Both James' parents died, briefly leaving him as Lord Potter before Petter fucking Pettigrew murdered him. Out of Thomas Weasley's four children and their families, only Arthur's branch survived, and Molly was the last of the Prewetts, except for Muriel, who no one counted since she had long passed the point of senility. Three great wizards, all a part of the Neutral-Traditionalists that leaned towards the Progressive bloc, had passed through the Veil, and with their passing came a great loss of Progressive power.

Of course, there were still the Abbotts, the Browns, the Flitwicks, and William Weasley was doing his damned hardest to restore his family's power, but none of it was enough. And it was all because of Albus Dumbledore.

Sirius didn't think he hated anyone more than he hated Dumbledore. The wizard had left him to rot in Azkaban without a trial, without so much as a second consideration. How in the name of Merlin had the old man deluded himself into thinking Sirius was guilty? They had dumped the blame on his head just because he was a Black, just as they'd shunned Moony for being a werewolf.

Sirius crushed the letter in his hand. Dumbledore was a self-centered, high-handed git for all Sirius cared, and he longed to see the day that the Headmaster was brought to justice. That act, however, would be tremendously difficult, and as much as he wanted to march up to Hogwarts and give the manipulated arse a piece of his mind, Sirius knew that wouldn't work. Dumbledore would just smile at him benignly, and act disappointed that Sirius wouldn't blindly follow him anymore. No, Sirius had to come up with a cunning plan. A plan that Dumbledore wouldn't anticipate.

Sirius uncrumpled the letter, spreading it smoothly on his desk. Perhaps Narcissa did have a point. Even if she didn't, Sirius knew at least one thing was true: the Malfoys hated Dumbledore just as much as he did.

Sliding into his desk chair, Sirius summoned a fresh sheet of parchment, and an elegant, Self-Inking eagle feather quill.

Dear Narcissa,

While I don't wish to admit it, you are right. I will assume my rightful place as Lord Black with one condition. I believe we have a mutual enemy, and I would rather enjoy seeing him meet his well-deserved end…

Great Hall

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

7 September 1994

Hermione ate mechanically as nerves swirled inside her. All she wanted was for her name to come out of the Goblet of Fire, and she had a sinking feeling that wouldn't happen. Sure, she was the best student academically in her year, but Ron was close behind her, as were Padma Patil and Terry Boot from Ravenclaw. Harry was an amazing Quidditch player, and no slouch at Defense or Transfiguration either, and Draco had improved a lot over the summer. There were also the third years to contend with, although Hermione was significantly less concerned about them. Vesper Dearborn was allegedly a Charms prodigy, but was pants at half the other subjects, and Anna Runcorn was a good student, but not nearly as skilled as Hermione.

Lily and Millie kept casting concerned looks across the table, but Hermione ignored them, still worried about the Triwizard Tournament. Even if by some miracle she was chosen, she would still have to contend with the champions from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Hermione hadn't had the chance to meet all of them in person, but according to the Hogwarts rumor mill, there were several witches and wizards to watch out for. Erik Karkaroff was the Durmstrang Headmaster's son, and quite nasty for a third year. Two of the Durmstrang fourth years, Werner Dietrich and Georg Wiesler, were also notable, and Stefan Krum had actually warned her to stay away from Wiesler. It was rather kind of him, especially since they were only loosely acquainted through Harry.

For someone who claimed to not care much about politics, Harry was very well connected. Not only was he chummy with both the Krum brothers, but he also was friendly with the French Malfoys. There were several other traditional purebloods from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons that Harry had been able to easily ingratiate himself with based off of easy charm and the perk of being the Boy-Who-Lived. It frustrated Hermione to no end as she was certain if she'd tried to introduce herself, they'd quickly dismiss her as an uppity Mudblood.

Hermione picked listlessly at the remains of her dinner. The blatant discrimination against muggleborns was supremely frustrating, and Hermione hoped beyond hope that she would be selected as a champion to prove beyond a doubt that muggleborns could be just as skilled as their pureblood counterparts. Of course, there'd likely be complaints from the Traditionalists, and allegations of cheating, but Hermione was confident she could avoid those. After all, if there was anything she was good at, it was following the rules.

Foot tapping under the table, Hermione absently ate a slice of chocolate raspberry tart, then held her breath as the desserts cleared and Professor Dumbledore stood.

"Now that we are all fed and watered," he began, "it is time for the Goblets of Fire to select our champions." On cue, Filch walked onto the dais, carrying a small table with all three Goblets. Dumbledore clapped his hands twice, and three flags unfurled on the right end of the dais, one bearing the Hogwarts coat of arms, and the other two displayed what Hermione assumed were the crests of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. "If you are called forth as a champion, please come forth to the dais and stand beneath your school's flag so you may be recognized. Kindly remain there until all champions are called."

Hermione was practically vibrating in her seat.

Dumbledore stood before the bronze goblet and waited for a moment until a brilliantly scarlet tongue of fire shot out bearing a slip of paper. "For our third and fourth year tournament, our champion from Beauxbatons will be Talon du Feu!"

A tall boy with long auburn hair rose gracefully from the Beauxbatons table and strode to the front.

Another tongue of crimson flame shot forward. "From Durmstrang, Georg Wiesler!"

Hermione watched Wiesler shrewdly as he walked forward. He seemed rather arrogant.

A third tongue of fire emerged from the Goblet. "And, from Hogwarts -"

Hermione held her breath, unable to move.

"-Hermione Granger!"

Hermione's heart jumped as the Slytherin table erupted in cheers. Her brain seemed to be functioning at half speed, and Ron had to nudge her off the bench. Projecting confidence she didn't feel, Hermione walked smoothly to the front and stood underneath the Hogwarts flag. Du Feu flashed her a winning smile, which Hermione returned, and Wiesler stared straight ahead. Hermione had the feeling he might be one of those purebloods.

Hermione clapped dutifully as Baptiste Malfoy was chosen to represent Beauxbatons in the fifth and sixth year tournament, and Stefan Krum was chosen to represent Durmstrang. Her clapping was far more enthusiastic for Euan McGonagall, who was picked to represent Hogwarts. It was unfortunate that no girls were chosen, but Euan at least was the good sort.

"Lastly," Dumbledore continued, "our champions for the highest age bracket...From Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour!"

The prettiest girl Hermione had ever seen glided towards the dais, flipping long silvery

blonde hair as she went. Hermione quickly became very self conscious of the tendrils attempting to escape her braid.

"From Durmstrang, Viktor Krum!"

The entire hall burst into the most enthusiastic applause yet.

"And from Hogwarts...Cedric Diggory!"

The Hufflepuff table lost their minds, and didn't calm down until Dumbledore shot several purple firecrackers out of his wand.

"I would like to personally congratulate all of our champions, and thank all of you who entered. For those who were not selected and would like to have an opportunity to demonstrate their skills, keep your eyes open for Quidditch tryouts and an informational session on the dueling tournament. Champions, if you would please follow me into the antechamber. Madam Maxime, Professor Karkaroff, Mr. Bagman, and Lord Crouch, if you will."

Hermione nervously followed Professor Dumbledore into the antechamber. She'd never been in the room before, and it was nicely decorated with simple dark furniture and a small blazing fireplace. The door shut behind them with a feeling of finality, and Lord Crouch stepped forward.

"Congratulations on your selection as Triwizard Champion," Crouch began dryly. "I would like to remind all of you that your selection constitutes a magically binding agreement, and you will be unable to withdraw from the tournament unless you suffer a debilitating injury. Your first task will take place on November 5 and will test your ability to think quickly on your feet. Prior to that, there will be a Weighing of the Wands ceremony as well as a press interview and photo opportunity. If you have any concerns, I suggest that you speak with your school's Headmaster or Headmistress.

"Once again, congratulations on your selection for this historic competition, and I wish you all a pleasant evening."

Crouch melted back into the crowd, and the champions milled around idly. Hermione smiled to herself, butterflies temporarily gone. She was beyond determined to win the tournament, and she would prove, once and for all, that she could be better than any other witch or wizard.

A/N: Just a reminder that this story makes use, and will continue to feature characters who are unreliable narrators.

Also, for those of you who are concerned about Harry getting opportunities, he too will get a moment to shine this year :)