The excitement in the castle the next morning was palpable. Students buzzed about the corridors, discussing who might be brave—or foolish—enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament. The Goblet of Fire now sat prominently in the Entrance Hall, its blue flames flickering enticingly, drawing the attention of every passing student.
As Harry, Hermione, and Ron made their way to breakfast, they could see clusters of older students lingering around the Goblet, some looking thoughtful, others joking nervously with their friends. A few had already written their names on parchment and tossed them into the magical flames, which crackled and flared brightly each time a name was added.
"Look at them," Harry muttered, nodding toward a group of seventh-year Hufflepuffs standing near the Goblet, parchment in hand. "I can't believe anyone would actually want to put their name in."
Harry watched as another student, a tall Ravenclaw boy, stepped forward confidently, scribbled his name on a scrap of parchment, and tossed it into the Goblet. The flames flared briefly before settling back to their usual flicker.
"I dunno," Ron said, his eyes on the Goblet. "It's dangerous, sure, but you've got to admit, it would be incredible to be chosen."
Harry made a face. "Not for me, thanks. I'd rather not risk being burned alive or worse."
Beside him, Hermione looked thoughtful. "It's not just the danger. The champions will have to be clever, too. I think the tasks are going to test more than just magical ability. You'd have to be really prepared to handle it."
Just then, Fred and George hurried past them, looking unusually serious. Their usual playful expressions were replaced with something more focused as they exchanged hushed words, glancing at the Goblet.
"What are they up to?" Harry asked, watching them disappear toward the Entrance Hall.
Ginny, who was seated a few places down hear this and leaned over smirking. "Probably trying to figure out how to get past the Age Line."
"They'll never manage it," Hermione said confidently. "Dumbledore's enchantments are far too advanced for the likes of Fred and George."
"Yeah, but that's never stopped them from trying," Ginny pointed out.
The day passed quickly, with everyone's attention drawn to the Goblet of Fire. Even lessons were overshadowed by talk of who had entered, who might enter, and what the first task could be. It seemed like every time Harry turned a corner, he overheard someone speculating about the champions or discussing some outlandish rumor about the tasks ahead.
By dinnertime, the atmosphere in the Great Hall had reached a fever pitch. Everyone knew that by the end of the evening, the champions would be chosen. The Goblet of Fire, now flickering a deeper blue, had become the center of attention. Harry could feel the tension in the air as he sat down at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by students who were buzzing with nervous energy.
"They'll pick the champions after dessert." Hermione said, sounding both excited and anxious.
Just then, Ginny came rushing in. "I haven't missed anything have I?" Ginny asked as she squeezed in between Harry and Hermione. The table was so croweded with everyone wanting to be as close to the goblet as possible.
"Nothing yet," answered Ron from the other side of the table. "Why are you so late?"
Ginny rolled her eyes, "I had to help Fred and George get rid of the last of their grey hairs. That age line did a number on them."
And sure enough, in came Fred and George with very gloomy faces. While their red hair was back to its usual state, Harry was sure their skin appeared more sullen than usual and they seemed to be walking a lot more carefully.
Harry glanced up at the staff table and saw Dumbledore looking upon the twins with a hint of amusement on his face.
Over dinner, a few more students put their name into the goblet.
Harry watched Victor Krum walk proudly over and drop his in, blue sparks flying out as he did so.
Hermione chimed in, "It's a bit rich to put it in now when everyone can see you, don't you think?"
"Yeah," Ginny replied. "But it is Krum after all."
Dessert appeared and the plates filled with treacle tart, chocolate éclairs, and other sweets, the excitement in the hall reached its peak. Students leaned forward in their seats, casting anxious glances toward the Goblet, which now burned brighter than ever.
Dumbledore stood up from his seat at the staff table, and the hall fell into an almost eerie silence. His eyes gleamed as he looked out over the assembled students, his voice carrying easily through the hall.
"The time has come to select the champions for the Triwizard Tournament," he said, his voice calm but laced with anticipation. "The Goblet of Fire has made its decisions. In a moment, it will choose the champions who will represent their schools."
Dumbledore stepped toward the Goblet, and the entire hall seemed to hold its breath. Harry leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the flickering blue flames.
"Once your name is called," Dumbledore continued, "please come forward and join us at the front of the hall."
The flames in the Goblet suddenly turned a brilliant red, flaring higher than before. Sparks flew from the cup, and then, with a loud crackling sound, a piece of parchment shot into the air.
Dumbledore caught the parchment effortlessly and unfolded it. "The champion for Durmstrang," he announced, "is Viktor Krum."
The hall erupted into applause, though Harry could hear the murmurs of recognition and awe as Krum, the famous Quidditch Seeker, stood up from the Durmstrang table and walked toward the front of the hall. His face was serious, but he gave a nod to his fellow students as they cheered for him.
Harry grinned. "I figured he'd be the one."
The flames flared red again, and another piece of parchment flew from the Goblet. Dumbledore caught it, his expression neutral.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," he announced, "is Fleur Delacour."
There were cheers from the Beauxbatons table as Fleur, a strikingly beautiful girl with silvery-blonde hair, stood up gracefully and made her way to the front of the hall. Harry noticed many of the boys at the Gryffindor table staring after her, their mouths slightly open. Ron's was certainly one of them.
"Figures," Ron muttered, sounding awed. "She looks like she was born to be a champion."
Ginny elbowed him. "Close your mouth, Ronald."
Ron flushed but didn't respond.
Once again, the flames turned red, and the final piece of parchment shot from the Goblet. Dumbledore caught it, and a hush fell over the hall as everyone leaned forward, waiting to hear the name of the Hogwarts champion.
"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore said, his voice clear and strong, "is Cedric Diggory."
Cheers exploded from the Hufflepuff table, and Harry could see Cedric's face break into a broad smile as he stood up, clearly surprised but pleased. He walked to the front of the hall, shaking hands with his fellow Hufflepuffs as he passed them.
"Well, that's that, then," Hermione said, clapping politely. "Cedric's a good choice. He'll do well."
Harry nodded, though something strange was happening with the Goblet. The flames, which had begun to fade after Cedric's selection, suddenly flared a brilliant red once more.
Everyone stared in confusion as another piece of parchment shot out of the Goblet.
Dumbledore's expression darkened slightly as he caught the parchment. He unfolded it slowly, his eyes flickering across the writing. For a long moment, the hall was deathly silent.
"The fourth champion," Dumbledore said, his voice now edged with surprise, "is… Harry Potter."
Gasps echoed through the hall, and all eyes turned to Harry. His heart pounded in his chest, the world spinning around him. His mind struggled to process what had just happened. His name had come out of the Goblet. But how?
Beside him, Ginny gasped, but she immediately turned to him, her hand resting gently on his arm. "Harry? Harry! Are you okay?" she whispered, her eyes wide with concern.
Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. His throat was dry, his mind racing.
Harry swallowed, still in shock, and nodded. Slowly, he pushed back his chair and stood up, feeling every pair of eyes in the room on him. The silence was deafening.
As he made his way to the front of the hall, he could feel the weight of the stares, the whispers that followed him. His stomach churned with a mixture of confusion and dread.
From the corner of his eye, Harry caught Ron's expression. His best friend looked furious, his face red with anger, his fists clenched at his sides. Harry had no idea why, but the sight of Ron's anger cut him deeply, twisting in his gut like a knife.
Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.
After what seemed like an hour, he was right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the teachers upon him.
"Well . . . through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore.
