Chapter 7
After Sirius’s death, Harry settled at Grimmauld Place, inheriting the house and the belongings left to him by his godfather—including the treasures kept in the vault at Gringotts. For the first time, he found himself far from the Dursleys, free to live without their constant interference.
The summer passed in a blur of restoring Grimmauld Place to its former splendor and visits from Ron and Hermione, who helped him clean up the old Black residence. The days were marked by spells to lift the dust, while in the evenings they gathered around the kitchen table chatting about random topics.
The Great Hall was steeped in a feverish atmosphere of anticipation, the air vibrating with excitement as the students murmured among themselves. Dumbledore rose to his feet with his usual enigmatic smile and swept his arms wide in a theatrical gesture.
«Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!» his voice resonated effortlessly throughout the hall.
«But this year, dear students, will not be like the others.» all eyes fixed on the headmaster’s figure.
«Hogwarts has the honor of hosting the Triwizard Tournament.»
An explosion of voices and whispers surged across the tables. Even the most indifferent students couldn’t help but sit up straighter, captivated by the magnitude of the event.
The great doors of the Hall suddenly swung open.
An imposing figure draped in a heavy fur cloak led the group that entered with steady, measured steps. Viktor Krum, the Seeker from Bulgaria, advanced with the confident gait of an athlete. Behind him, the Durmstrang students marched with military discipline, their long red and black cloaks billowing as they moved with assurance. When they reached their seats, they sat next to the Slytherins as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The green-and-silver boys exchanged glances—some surprised, others pleased.
Then it was Beauxbatons’ turn. The flames of the candles trembled as a group of girls, draped in azure silk uniforms, advanced with grace and elegance. Their entrance was accompanied by a gentle, almost magical breeze as they traversed the Hall with fluid movements. The headmistress, Madame Maxime, towered over them, imposing and majestic.
They made their way unhesitatingly toward the Ravenclaw table, where the students welcomed them with curiosity and a certain sense of admiration.
Dumbledore waited for the murmuring to subside before continuing.
«I hope you will show these students the same spirit of friendship and loyalty that Hogwarts has always honored.»
An applause resounded throughout the Hall, and the air crackled with electricity.
After the excitement died down, Dumbledore raised a hand to call the room to order.
«As many of you know, the Triwizard Tournament is a competition of great prestige, but also of great danger.» his expression grew serious as his blue eyes swept over the assembled students.
«Three champions—one from each school—will be chosen to face three challenges. These challenges will test their ingenuity, their strength, and their courage.»
He gestured, and from a side door Filch entered, pushing a heavy chest decorated with ancient runes. With some effort, he placed it on a pedestal in the center of the Hall. With a solemn gesture, the headmaster opened it to reveal a stone-carved cup: the Goblet of Fire.
An excited murmur rippled through the room. The blue flame inside crackled softly, illuminating the curious faces of the students.
«Those who wish to participate must write their name on a piece of parchment and drop it into the Goblet.»
«But let me warn you: once chosen, you cannot back out.»
«To avoid mishaps, only students who have reached seventeen years of age may participate.» he continued.
At those words, a wave of protests rose among the younger students. Harry noticed the Weasley twins exchanging knowing glances—likely already scheming to bypass the age limit.
«I have drawn an age line around the Goblet. Anyone who attempts to cross it without having reached the required age… well, they will soon find out they’ve made a mistake.» a slight smile played on his lips.
«You have one week to submit your applications.»
He paused, his gaze stern.
«And now… enjoy your dinner!»
With a clap of his hands, the tables were filled with delicious food, though many students remained transfixed on the Goblet of Fire, which burned mysteriously at the center of the Hall.
In the following days, the atmosphere at Hogwarts was charged with excitement. The entire castle seemed to orbit around the Goblet of Fire; every day, groups of students gathered around the pedestal to watch anyone who stepped forward. Some did so with confidence—as if already certain of their victory—while others hesitated, casting fearful glances at the blue flame before letting their name drop.
The most anticipated champions soon presented themselves. The Durmstrang boys moved with an air of unquestionable confidence, and when Viktor Krum advanced toward the Goblet, he pulled a parchment from his pocket and dropped it into the flames, which devoured it instantly.
Watching from afar, Harry noticed something curious. As Krum turned to rejoin his companions, he cast a fleeting glance at Hermione. Only Harry noticed—Hermione was so absorbed in her book that she hadn’t even realized she’d become the object of attention for one of the most famous wizards of the moment. He found it almost amusing. She was so engrossed in her reading that she was oblivious to everything around her.
Meanwhile, the Weasley twins had attempted to circumvent the age restriction with an aging charm, but the result was hilarious: both were knocked aside and now sported long white hair and deep wrinkles.
On the evening of the champions’ selection, the entire school seemed to hold its breath. Candles floated high above the tables, casting a flickering glow on the tense expressions of the students. The Goblet of Fire blazed at the center of the Great Hall, its blue flame undulating as if it sensed the feverish anticipation in the air.
Dumbledore rose with the solemnity of one about to announce something irreversible. With a sweeping gesture, he signaled for silence.
«The time has come.» his voice broke the silence with its usual calm, though beneath it lay a shadow of expectation.
Everyone held their breath as the Goblet’s flame transformed, for an instant, into an intense red glow. A piece of parchment fluttered out of the flames, and Dumbledore caught it gracefully.
«The champion of Durmstrang…» he paused briefly to heighten the tension.
«Viktor Krum!»
A wave of applause erupted among the Slytherins and the Durmstrang students, as Krum rose with his customary impassive expression. Only those watching closely would have noticed the slight stiffening of his shoulders—a sign that, despite his fame, he too felt the weight of the moment.
The Goblet shone again, and another name emerged. Dumbledore took it and read.
«The champion of Beauxbatons… Fleur Delacour!»
A more delicate applause filled the Hall as Fleur rose gracefully, her chin held high and her eyes sparkling with determination. Some Ravenclaw students clapped with particular enthusiasm, fascinated by her beauty and elegance.
Once more, the Goblet ignited. The third name appeared, and Dumbledore announced it in a clear tone: «The champion of Hogwarts… Cedric Diggory!»
An explosion of joy erupted from the Hufflepuff table, and Cedric rose with a modest smile, shaking a few hands as he made his way to the champions’ area.
The ceremony seemed complete. The students began whispering among themselves, commenting on the Goblet’s choices. But then, the unexpected happened—the fire flared up once again.
A murmur swept through the Great Hall. It shouldn’t have happened: three schools, three champions. And yet, a new parchment rose from the flames.
Dumbledore took it with an inscrutable expression. Slowly, he pronounced the name written upon it.
«Harry Potter.»
A deathly silence fell over the Hall. Every face turned toward the Gryffindor table, but Harry remained motionless. He felt his heart slow its beat. He wasn’t surprised. No, not really.
Without hesitation, he rose, his eyes calm, and advanced through the tables. He sensed the whispers, the piercing stares, the burning disapproval of the Hufflepuffs, the incredulity of the Ravenclaws, and the cutting coldness of the Slytherins.
But he did not stop. Deep down, he already knew this moment would come.