So much to do, so little time to write and every time I do write it seems to be things that will only happen in like 10 chapters or so…

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By the time they left Snape's office, it was already getting dark outside and time for the feast. The candlelit Great Hall was packed. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. The Hall was lavishly decorated in ways it usually only was for Halloween feasts.

"Do you think Harry will be chosen again?" asked Neville before they departed.

Oh yeah - the Triwizard Tournament. Draco had almost forgotten about it with all that had happened with Neville and their progress with the cure and talking to Snape.

"I- I don't know. I mean, I just assumed that he would. But Snape is teaching DADA now instead of Moody. And since Moody - well, fake Moody - was the one who tricked the goblet into choosing Harry..." Draco shrugged his shoulders. He hadn't given this much thought as Harry survived the whole ordeal relatively unscathed, anyway - winning the whole thing, even. He had also assumed that it wasn't something that he could change. If Pettigrew's escape was fate, then so was this.

Neville looked worried, but didn't say anything.

Draco left Neville and sat down at his already packed table.

The feast seemed to drag on forever. Perhaps it was because it was their second feast in two days, but no one seemed to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as they would have normally. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, Draco simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions. He knew about Fleur and Viktor, but he wanted to know about the others, wanted to hear how much his presence had changed the past.

If some things were fated, then it begged the question of how much Draco was actually able to change. He did not like to ponder it, but the question scared him. Giving it attention meant giving room to the possibility that his ambition of saving Astoria might be hopeless. He could not do that. Just thinking about the possibility filled him with fear. Every little and big thing he was able to change increased his chances of being able to save his wife.

"Hope it's a Slytherin," said Theodore during the meal, and some of the others nodded their heads in agreement. The animatedly talked about the tournament, giddy with excitement and anticipation.

Daphne, sitting next to Draco, used the distraction of their friends to talk to Draco unnoticed.

"So," she whispered, pulling Draco out of his rather dark musing, "thanks for sending me to the Hospital Wing today, you annoying bugger."

Draco just chuckled. His mood growing lighter again.

"You could have at least visited me, you know," she scoffed.

"I'm sorry. I was busy."

"Busy ogling the pretty Hufflepuff seeker?" she smirked.

Draco nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. "It's-it's not like that!"

"Right," Daphne laughed. "I saw you watching him this morning and I heard rumors you've been stalking him."

Draco blushed. "Who told you that?"

"Quite a few people, actually. The Hufflepuffs are calling you a creepy stalker."

"Just perfect," Draco groaned. "I can't even explain it to you, but it really isn't like that. I'm not into guys."

Daphne smirked, "Good to know. Would have been a pity."

Before Draco could give this any more thought, he noticed how the noise in the Hall died and looked up to see Dumbledore on his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Mr. Bagman looked mildly interested and Mr. Crouch looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "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; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting. . . . A few people kept checking their watches. . . .

The flames inside the goblet suddenly turned red. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped.

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 turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

A storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Draco wasn't at all surprised, but slapped Viktor on the back and said "Congratulations."

Viktor smiled at him and left the Slytherin table. He slouched up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"You don't look so happy, Serge," observed Pansy.

"I am, I am. It is just – it is alvays him. Alvays," he complained.

Johanna put her hand on his shoulder in a sympathizing gesture.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

Draco observed Fleur, who got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Pansy said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party.

"Disappointed" was a bit of an understatement. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next . . .

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment. He read it, raised his eyebrows and glanced in Draco's direction.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cassius Warrington!"

"No!" yelled Ron Weasley loudly. The whole Hall was quiet. Draco gulped. It wasn't a Gryffindor, or a Ravenclaw, or even another Hufflepuff, but a Slytherin. A student from a House most people hated.

Cassius Warrington got up and, keeping his head high, he walked towards Dumbledore.

Slowly, the Slytherin table started to erupt in applause. Some of the other tables joined them hesitantly, but there were also many who shouted things like "NO!" or, "We can't have a Slytherin champion!" or who were demanding a retry.

Draco felt a bit unsure of himself. On the one hand, they had saved Cedric, on the other, he wasn't quite sure whether the school was ready for a Slytherin champion.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called loudly, and the tumult died down. Draco held his breath. Was this it or would the goblet again proclaim a fourth champion? Dumbledore, knowing about as much about the events as Draco, must have been rather curious, too. "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, a slight frown being the only sign of displeasure on his features, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him. Draco groaned, shutting his eyes. Even taking fake Moody out of the equation hadn't been enough.

The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot into the air, and borne upon it was 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. There was a long pause during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. This, Draco thought, must have been solely for dramatic effect, as the headmaster couldn't have been particularly surprised by what he saw. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out —

"Harry Potter."

Again, there was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.

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.

Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

Slowly, Potter made his way to the top table. Every eye was on him.

Dumbledore said something to Harry, who then walked to the side chamber as well. Harry wasn't smiling, neither was Dumbledore.

TBC

Uh, Harry is champion again. How did Barty - if it was Barty again - manage that? And together with a Slytherin? That can't be good for the inter-house rivalry. Let me know what you think :)