Chapter 5
"Sit down please. And now the moment you've all been waiting for, the champions selection!" Dumblerdore echoed loudly.
As the blue flame flickered and danced, Dumbledore's hand reached out towards it. A hush fell over the room as anticipation filled the air. The flame responded, turning a vibrant shade of red. All eyes were fixed on it, waiting for the name that would determine the fate of one brave individual.
Finally, a slip of parchment emerged from the fiery depths. Dumbledore unfolded it slowly, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room was palpable as he cleared his throat and announced the chosen champion.
"The Durmstrang champion is ... Viktor Krum!" He announced.
The cheers erupted from the Durmstrang crowd, filling the room with a deafening roar. Viktor Krum, their champion, stood tall and proud as he made his way to the centre of attention. His dark eyes gleamed with determination.
The flame flickered once again, casting an eerie glow across the room. Dumbledore's hand reached out, trembling slightly, as he plucked another slip of parchment from its depths. The crowd held their breath, their eyes locked on the headmaster. Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the soft rustling of paper.
Dumbledore unfolded the parchment slowly, his face betraying nothing. He cleared his throat and spoke with a steady voice,
"The champion from Beauxbatons... Fleur Delacour,"
The Beauxbatons girls erupted in cheers, their excitement filling the room. Fleur Delacour gracefully made her way to the centre, a smile playing on her lips. Her elegant presence captivated everyone's attention as she stood tall and confident. The flickering flame cast a warm glow on her, highlighting her beauty and determination.
"The final name to be chosen, the Hogwarts champion" Dumbledore's voice echoed through the room, "August Karlsson,"
August Karlsson stood frozen in the centre of the room as murmurs and whispers erupted around him. The protests and disbelief were palpable, hanging heavy in the air. Kalevi, watching from the sidelines, felt a mix of curiosity and unease. He couldn't help but wonder why August, his older brother, had been chosen, an unknown name among the crowd.
As August mustered up the courage to step forward, Kalevi noticed a determined glint in his eyes. It was clear that August was ready to prove himself, despite the doubts and scepticism surrounding him. The flickering flame cast an eerie glow on his face, emphasising his determination.
"Excellent! We now have our three champions! But in the end only one will go down in history. Only one will hoist this chalice of champions, this vessel of victory the triwizard cup!"
Dumblerdore spoke as a fourth piece of paper flew out of the cup. The room fell silent as Dumbledore unfolded the parchment. His expression remained unread, but a sense of anticipation filled the air. Murmurs and whispers floated through the crowd, each person holding their breath in anticipation of the next name. The flickering flame cast eerie shadows across the room, adding to the tension.
"Harry Potter. Harry Potter?" His voice rose as he spoke. Hagrid's eyes widened as he slowly shook his head mumbling under his breath.
Draco sidled up to Kalevi, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, looks like your precious brother got himself into quite the pickle," he taunted.
Kalevi shot him a sharp look before responding softly, "August is more than capable of handling himself."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Because it seems like everyone else thinks he's just some nobody. You know, I heard some people saying that Harry Potter has already won this competition."
Kalevi clenched his fists, his voice low but resolute. "August will prove them wrong." his accent coming thick through his words.
Draco chuckled mockingly. "We'll see about that. But mark my words, Potter will be the one hoisting that cup in the end. Though between the two I have my fingers crossed for August." Draco smiled softly, trying to show he was just teasing. "Anyone is better than Potter,"
Kalevi's fast of disgust softly turned to one of pleasure as he muttered the words "Agreed"
Harry's footsteps echoed through the silence as he approached Dumbledore. The tension in the room was palpable, and voices of anger and disgust erupted from the crowd. Accusations and protests filled the air, directed at Harry, questioning his worthiness to be a champion. But amidst the chaos, Harry remained composed, his expression unwavering.
"Helvetin Potter,"