Goblet of Fire
Chapter 12: Goblet of Fire
The Hogwarts students recrossed the entrance hall and took their usual seats in the Great Hall. Several students, including Theo and Lee Jordan were jumping up and down on the soles of their feet to get a better look at the newcomers. A few sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked, and Draco snorted, knowing exactly what they were doing.
“Oh, I don’t believe it, I haven’t got a single quill on me–”
“D’you think he’d sign my hat in lipstick?”
“Are you kidding me?” Blaise growled under his breath, and Pansy elbowed him in the ribs.
The Slytherins turned toward their table, but the Durmstrang students remained gathered around the doorway, unsure about where they should sit. Looking for something familiar, the Beauxbatons students had chosen to sit with the Ravenclaws, the two shades of blue intertwining easily, though sporting glum expressions. A few of the younger French visitors were still clutching at scarves and shawls wrapped around their heads.
Viktor Krum looked around, spotting Draco and Pansy, and seeing the familiar faces, decided to lead the rest of the Durmstrang students over to join the Slytherin table. Just before they took their seats, Draco could see the Weasel jumping up and waving to them, which caused quite the scene.
Krum sat across from Draco, making space between Greg and Blaise. He leaned forward, “Vut is wrong with that red-haired boy over there?”
“He’s a bit mental, best to just ignore him,” Draco leaned forward to say back over the loud chatter that had broken out in the hall.
“How have you been, friends?” Viktor greeted them all cheerily. “Still grumpy, no?” He chuckled as Blaise’s annoyed expression soured further.
Theo grinned back at the Seeker, “Well, we had the chance to see your performance at the World Cup!”
“Ah, that vus not a good night, though better than it could have been,” Viktor shook his head, remembering the loss. “And you? Have you priyatel, now?” He turned toward Pansy and gestured to the grumpy Blaise next to him.
Her eyes flickered to Blaise’s, before she looked down at her plate guiltily. “No, I am betrothed.”
“Da be!” Viktor exclaimed, “It is no true?”
“Unfortunately, it is.” Pansy sighed sadly, leaning her head on Daphne’s shoulder, suddenly exhausted by the admission.
Viktor placed his hand over his heart, offering what they assumed were condolences based on his facial expression. “I am sorry.”
She didn’t respond, and the boys were quick to push the conversation along a bit, and the Durmstrang students pulled off their heavy furs to rest on the back of their seats, revealing blood red robes beneath.
“Will you be joining us for classes, too then?” Theo asked.
“No. Ve vill be using extra classrooms,” Viktor answered, giving the Slytherins exactly what they wanted.
If Lucius had pulled the strings he said he would, then they would be joining the Durmstrang students in their Dark Arts studies for the remainder of the year. Draco was hoping that the duration of the school year would be long enough to get Moody removed from his post, considering the track records of all their previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers.
When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the head table and taking their seats. The last to enter were the Headmasters and Headmistress: Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When Madame Maxime entered, her pupils leapt to their feet in a show of respect. A few of the Gryffindors laughed at their reactions, causing the Beauxbatons party to appear quite embarrassed, however, they did not resume their seats until she had sat down on Dumbledore’s left-hand side. Dumbledore was the only one who remained standing, and silence fell over the Great Hall.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and–most particularly–guests,” said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”
One Beauxbatons girl, still clutching at her thin fabrics gave a high, derisive laugh.
“No one’s making you stay!” Granger hissed, bristling at the girl, and Draco had to stifle a hearty laugh.
“The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast,” said Dumbledore. “I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”
Once Dumbledore had taken his seat, Karkaroff leaned forward to capture his attention as the plates in front of them filled with food as usual. There was a much larger variety of dishes and platters appearing on the tables than they were accustomed to, and Draco couldn’t help but notice that the house elves in the kitchens hadn’t held back at all.
After nearly twenty minutes, Hagrid lumbered into the Hall through a door behind the staff table, and slid into his seat at the end, sporting a heavily bandaged hand.
“Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?” Potter yelled across the Hall, and Draco wanted to smack him on the back of the head just like his parents would have done to him if he’d ever done anything so incredibly rude.
“Thrivin’,” the half-giant called back happily. Both of them blissfully ignorant of their lack of manners, but Draco supposed he couldn’t expect quite so much from a half-beast who basically lived in the woods.
Draco took to filling his plate, doing his best to ignore Potter and his ridiculous posse. His focus only lasted three minutes before Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch filled in the two remaining empty seats at the head table.
“Ten galleons Ludo tries to get us to make a bet on the winner of the Tournament before a champion is even chosen…” Theo chuckled.
“Yeah, and another ten galleons that you take a bet with him,” Daphne snarked playfully.
When the second course arrived, there were a number of more foreign desserts, and Draco enjoyed trying them all. Some he had tasted at home whenever mother had decided to introduce French cuisine to her fine dining options when hosting guests. Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again, and an excited tension filled the Hall. Theo was leaning forward on the edge of his seat, his eyes glistening with the thrill of excitement for the impending announcements.
“The moment has come,” said Dumbledroe, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket–”
“What?” Pansy’s face paled.
“--just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation”-- a light smattering of applause – “and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”
There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, with the exception of Krum and many of his classmates sitting near him. Krum’s face was drawn in a stark frown.
“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament,” Dubmledore continue, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”
He smiled when the room’s attention honed in on the word “champions”. “The casket then, if you please, Mr. Filch.”
The old caretaker that had been hiding in the corner now crept forward carting a large wooden chest encrusted in jewels of every color. A hum buzzed through the crowd, interest growing in the antique.
“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” said Dumbledroe as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways…their magical prowess…”
“Well that could be any of us,” Theo whispered conspiratorially to their group.
“...their daring…”
Theo’s smirk lowered just a fraction, “stupid Gryffindors…”
“...their powers of deduction…”
“--and I’m back in the running!” Theo cheered, earning a deep chuckle from Krum and his amused classmates around them.
“...and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”
“--again, it could be any of us. We’ve been in loads of danger and look at us now!” Theo said confidently, though as Draco looked around the table, he thought they all were a bit worse for wear. He had some weird second magical core latched to his own…Pansy was barely eating enough to keep her from fainting…Theo masked his traumatic childhood with deflective humor…Blaise, well he just kept to himself more and more until he lashed out at someone…Tori was unknowingly entangled with the current Prince of Douchebags… He really didn’t think they had much to show for their flirtations with danger.
The Hall had gone silent at the last phrase, everyone seemed to be pondering their own ability to cope with that threat, assessing their past experiences and finding themselves coming up short, not unlike the Slytherins…though surely their danger was significantly lower stakes aside from Potter. It actually wouldn’t be all that surprising if Potter was picked, even underage. It was the Potter Effect, they had called it years ago–Potter gets away with anything and everything and always comes out on top because he’s, well, Harry freaking Potter.
“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament,” Dumbledore went on calmly, “one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”
The Headmaster tapped his wand three times on the top of the casket, and the lid slowly creaked open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would’ve been utterly plain had it not been near overflowing with dancing blue-white flames. He closed the casket and placed the flaming goblet back down on top of it, on display for everyone in the Great Hall.
“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” said Dumbledore. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.
“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation,” the Headmaster said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.
“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Oce a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”
Viktor’s face was set in a hard line now, the resolve to enter was etched clearly in his brow. “Ve vill see you in the morning. Goodnight.” With quick, sharp bows, the Durmstrang students were gathering as Karkaroff bustled up to them.
“Back to the ship, then,” he said, giving Draco a nod of acknowledgement before turning back to Krum. “Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?”
Viktor shook his head and pulled on his furs, moving to leave the Hall as instructed. One of the younger Durmstrang students interrupted, “Professore, I vood like some vine.”
“I wasn’t offering it to you, Poliakoff,” Karkaroff snapped, his warm, paternal attitude reserved only for Krum. “I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy–”
Draco held in his laughter at the other boy’s expense until Karkaroff and the Durmstrang students had marched out of earshot. Upon reaching the door though, Potter stepped back to allow the visitors through first, and Karkaroff must have noticed just who he was because the man froze, his eyes fixed on Potter’s lightning bolt shaped scar. His students, too, were staring curiously at Potter, until Moody hobbled up behind them.
“Yeah, that’s Harry Potter,” he growled.
Karkaroff spun around, the two glaring at one another in a silent show-down. The color was quickly draining from Karkaroff’s already pale face, and his face was a confusing twist of fear and anger swirling together.
“You!” he said, staring unbelievingly at the gnarled wizard leaning heavily on his wooden staff.
“Me,” Moody said grimly. “And unless you’ve got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You’re blocking the doorway.”
As strangely non-confrontational as that was compared to Moody’s previous encounters with his past, the statement was true. Nearly half the students in the Hall were lined up watching the events unfold, waiting to exit the Great Hall. Without another word, Karkaroff and the Durmstrang students swept out of the castle and back to their ship anchored on the shores of the Black Lake. Moody stood guard until the other man was out of sight, his magical eye fixed on his back, a look of hatred ingrained in his mutilated face.
…
The following morning, being a Saturday and all, Draco took his time rising for the day. He stood under the steam of the hot shower he was scalding himself with for just a bit longer than he would usually indulge in, not turning the water off until Blaise started banging on the door.
“Draco, hurry up in there! Some of us have things to do today!”
“Shove off, Blaise!” Draco called back, but turned the water off and began to towel off.
Just as he was wrapping the towel around his waist, Blaise threw the door open, letting the steam pour out into their room, and the cold chill forced its way through the fog. “Have a nice wank?” Theo taunted from his bed, covers still tightly pulled over his head.
“I was not–”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, just move it!” Blaise chucked Draco’s pile of clothes at him and slammed the door in his face. The sound of running water signaled the end of their conversation, so Draco dressed quickly, throwing on some warmer clothes, hoping to use it as insulation to trap some of the heat he had acquired during his shower. By the time he was finished combing his hair and tying his shoes, Blaise had already finished showering and run off to find Pansy.
Theo and Draco joined Greg, Millie, and Daphne in the common room, walking to breakfast together. Halfway up the stairs, a head of long, platinum blonde hair came skipping down the steps in the other direction.
“Lovegood,” Draco nodded at the girl, but she continued on humming her own little tune.
“Was she barefoot?” Daphne gasped, scandalized by such an odd fashion choice.
Millie giggled in response, “But did you see her earrings? Radishes! Can you believe it?”
“It is Looney-Lovegood, I guess,” Daphne shrugged and continued climbing the stairs to the next floor, but Draco stood rooted to the spot.
Why wasn’t she wearing any shoes? It’s cold in the castle, even with the fires lit, and she was heading toward the dungeons…Why is Lovegood going to the dungeons on a Saturday?
“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Draco said fleetingly, with only Theo paying attention to his whereabouts anyway.
Draco fled down the stairs quickly, hoping he could catch up to Luna before she disappeared. He wasn’t even sure why he was chasing after the girl, only that he had to know why she wasn’t wearing any shoes.
“Oh, hello, Draco,” she smiled up at him as he finally caught up to her outside the door to the Potions classroom.
“Lovegood,” he said again, only this time she appeared to have heard him. “Where are your shoes?”
“Oh, the strangest thing happened to me today. I woke up, and all of my shoes were missing. Luckily I still had my jumper though,” she tugged on the hem of her jumper as if just seeing it for the first time. “It’s alright,” she whispered seriously when she spotted his look of disapproval. “I’ll write to Daddy and have him send me a new pair.”
“Love–er–Luna, do your things go missing often?” he asked, having a feeling he knew what had happened to her shoes…and anything else that had gone missing.
“Oh, yes! I suspect it’s the nargles, but one never really can tell.” Her eyes told him everything he needed to know. First, that she truly believed it could be the nargles, and second, that she was so incredibly innocent that she should be protected at all costs–she was blood after all. Mother would definitely approve.
“Do you ever find your things? After you’ve lost them?” Draco asked, his concern plastered across his face, yet somehow it didn’t register to her.
“Sometimes. I found a pair of my earrings in a toilet once, it was a nice surprise to have finally found them…but I didn’t think it would be prudent to keep them after that.”
Before he could remark on her choice, the Ravenclaw had skipped away, having found the dungeons to be a dead end with the Potions classroom locked.
“Mippy!” Draco called, hoping the house elf would be quick in finding him.
“Young Master be calling Mippy, sir?” she appeared with a POP!.
Draco nodded, and hastily informed Mippy of the situation. “You see, she’s family, Mippy, and I think the other elves at Hogwarts wouldn’t mind helping if they knew what was going on around the castle. Don’t you agree?”
“Oh yes!” Mippy nodded vehemently. Her anger at whoever had been hiding Miss Luna’s things was poorly masked. “Mippy be speaking with Gobbins right now, sir!” She popped away again, and Draco had barely gotten three steps up before she appeared again.
“Gobbins is a good elf, sir, he’s be getting the other elves to find Miss Luna’s things each night and bring them backs to her, he is!”
“Thank you, Mippy,” Draco beamed at the little elf with gratitude.
With a deep bow, she left with a final crack, leaving him to rejoin the Slytherins in the entrance hall. When he arrived, there were more people than he had expected, having forgotten the events of the previous evening and the promise held by students entering their names in the Goblet of Fire. It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that typically propped up the Sorting Hat. A thin gold line circled around the stool, giving a wide berth of nearly ten feet in every direction–the Age Line.
“Anyone put their names in yet?” Draco whispered as he approached Theo’s side.
Theo nodded to where Krum was dropping his name into the goblet, the last of the Durmstrang students. Apparently they had all entered.
The Weasley twins and their tag-a-long, Lee Jordan had just come hurrying down the staircase, all three looking extremely excited. They were whispering to the Weasel and Potter, clearly having just done something they thought would get them around Dumbledore’s Age Line. Theo tensed next to him, watching hopefully.
“Ready?” one of the redheads said to the other, quivering with excitement. “C’mon, then–I’ll go first–”
The whole crowd watched in fascination as one twin pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing his name and the word ‘Hogwarts’ He walked up to the edge of the golden line and rocked back and forth on his toes in anticipation. He took a great breath and crossed over the line.
The other twin let out a yell of triumph, and Theo bounced giddily on his toes, for a split second his hope confirmed. But the next moment, there was a loud sizzling and both twins were swiftly thrown out of the circle by an invisible force. They landed painfully on the cold stone floor, and there was a loud popping noise as they sprouted identical, long white beards to rival Dumbledore’s himself.
The entrance hall rang out in echoing laughter. Even the twins had joined in once they had gotten back to their feet and caught an eyeful of eachother’s beards.
“I did warn you,” Dumbledore’s deep, amused voice said as he exited the Great Hall to survey the Weasley twins. “I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours.”
Everyone, including Lee Jordan began howling in laughter at the Headmaster’s reaction, and the twins left for the hospital wing, accompanied by their accomplice. Draco chortled along with them as he and the rest of the Slytherins took their place at the table for breakfast. The decorations had changed dramatically overnight for Halloween. A cloud of live bats fluttered around the enchanted ceiling, and hundreds of carved pumpkins watched them from every corner.
Cassius Warrington sat at the end of their table boasting about how he had entered his name earlier that morning. Draco, who had played Quidditch with him in previous years, made note that it would, indeed, be nice to have a Slytheirn champion, but maybe one a bit more competent than Warrington. He was large, but so, so slow and lacking any finesse. If there were any challenges in which he would need to make a run for it–or even use his brains–Draco was undoubtedly sure Hogwarts would lose in the first round if that was even possible.
“Surely Diggory put his name in too?” Draco asked, looking around the table. Several nodded back. He was a good choice. A Puff was a neutral choice, anyone could cheer for a Hufflepuff without having to deal with House rivalries too much, though he was a little surprised Diggory would want to risk his good looks. He wasn’t a loud sort, but awfully prideful from the small interactions Draco had had with the bloke.
“Listen!” Theo hushed Draco’s inquiries. There were cheers coming from the entrance hall, and they all swiveled around in their seats to see Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning. She was a tall black girl who played Chaser for Gryffindor’s Quidditch team, and had clearly just put her name in the Goblet of Fire.
“Great, now the Gryffindors will definitely get it,” Theo groaned, moaning about how his only shot was blown to smithereens when the Weasleys couldn’t even get over the Age Line.
“Well, maybe pretty-boy Diggory will still get it!” Millie offered, snickering when Greg’s smile turned grumpy.
“Oh, Millie, get real! He’s a Puff!” Theo pouted a bit too loudly, earning him a glare from a few passing Hufflepuffs.
Just then, the Beauxbatons students entered the hall, with Madame Maxime behind them. One by one, her pupils stepped over the Age Line, dropping their bits of parchment into the blue-white flames which turned briefly red and sparked after each acceptance. When they were all finished, she led them back out of the hall and onto the grounds again.
“How d’you suppose they’re all sleeping in that carriage? Especially with her in there…” Greg asked, quizzically.
“It’s got to be one massive Extension Charm,” Draco answered with his best guess.
Theo joined in, “Well, yeah, but d’you reckon she’s shacking up with Hagrid? I mean…they’re both giants, right?”
No logical answer ever came as they were too busy gasping for air between unbridled bouts of laughter and wiping tears from the corners of their eyes. Draco was so distracted he nearly missed Granger’s arrival–wait, hadn’t she already arrived? She was hauling a large box, rattling with whatever it was she had clanking around in there. Before he could investigate further, she was gone, off gallivanting with her two side-kicks, and from the direction they were heading, they were off to see Hagrid. Draco hoped she could knock some sense into his thick skull about getting rid of those nasty beasts, particularly since it was his and Theo’s turn to go “care” for them next.
The Slytherins wandered around, not committing to any particular activity for very long. Watching the few who entered their names for the Tournament got rather boring since no one else, after the Weasleys, tried to outsmart the Age Line. By mid afternoon, a light rain started to fall, and they decided that sitting by the fire in the common room was rather cozy and the most reasonable option.
Though Pansy and Blaise still hadn’t made an appearance, the impending betrothal was still a topic of conversation.
“Has she heard anything else?” Draco asked Daphne. While under the usual circumstances, Pansy would have confided in him, this was different—more final. He couldn’t imagine she’d want to talk to a male about losing all autonomy to…well, another male.
Daphne fiddled with the long plait she had spun her hair into, “No, but she got a letter from Marcus saying he would have ‘eyes on her’ while she was at Hogwarts.”
“You think he means Vince?” Greg asked nervously. He still wasn’t comfortable cutting off his oldest and closest friend. Draco couldn’t blame him, Vince and Greg had always been a package deal, like brothers.
Daphne shook her head to indicate she didn’t know, but they all thought it was most likely with his fanatical behavior so far this term.
“It could still be referring to some of the sixth or seventh years that he knows. With no Quidditch this year, they’d all have plenty more time to be sticking their noses where they don’t belong,” Draco mused.
Trying not to worry too much, Greg, Daphne, and Theo started a game of Exploding Snap while Millie and Draco watched on. At some point around the third game, the sun had begun to fall in the sky, and the dungeons buzzed with the same excitement as the rest of the castle, awaiting the announcement of the champions at dinner that night.
The Slytherins got ready for the Halloween feast early that night, hoping to get some secret insight into who the champions would be. If they thought they were the only ones to arrive early, they were wrong. Very wrong. The Great Hall was nearly full by the time they took their seats.
The candles flickered overhead, the betwitched ceiling’s night sky was still a little stormy compared to years past, adding a spooky element to the air around them. The Goblet of Fire had been moved from the entrance hall to stand sentinel in front of Dumbledore’s empty seat.
The Halloween feast seemed to take longer than usual—mostly because everyone was either filled with nerves they would be chosen or not, or filled with excitement at wanting to start the next phase of the tournament. Perhaps the zeal for the food was lessened as well, it was the second feast in two days.
No matter the cause, when the golden plates returned to their usual clean state, the tension in the room came to a head. Craning necks and fidgeting crescendoed with the increasing volume of the impatient whispers around them, before suddenly going silent as Dumbledore stood.
On either side of the Hogwarts Headmaster, Karkaroff and Madame Maxime had even more apprehension etched into their features, awaiting the decision. Ludo Bagman, also present at the head table, was calm as ever—winking and grinning at various students he recognized or caught staring. Barty Crouch, however, looked bored beyond belief; he certainly felt he had more important things to attend to.
“Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision,” said Dumbledore. “I estimate 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.”
Dumbledore did a sweeping wave with his wand, and at once, all the candles aside from those in the Jack-o-lanterns were extinguished. The Hall was plunged into a hazy, dim flickering light, setting the stage for the dramatic reveal. The Goblet of Fire was not shining with an even more brilliant blue-white hue from its flames. The contrasting light was almost painful to look at.
Everyone held their breath in anticipation. Theo was counting down the seconds under his breath.
“Five…four…three…two…”
The goblet’s flames sparked red again, embers flying from its core. A tongue of flame shot out suddenly, and a charred piece of parchment fluttered into Dumbledore’s outstretched hand. The room gasped, having not known what to expect. The goblet’s flames returned to their bluish-white hue.
“The champion for Durmstrang, he read in a calm, strong voice, “will be Viktor Krum.”
The Slytherin table erupted with cheers from the Durmstrang students who had joined them for the feast, as well as many of Krum’s Quidditch fans throughout the hall.
Viktor rose from his seat, a little further down the table from Draco this time, and slouched his way up to the head table. As he passed the professors and heads, Karkaroff shouted, “Bravo, Viktor!” louder than even the din of the applause echoing in the Hall. “Knew you had it in you!” he cheered.
Viktor slunk into the next room, and the congratulatory clapping and chatting died down. Only seconds later, the goblet’s flame turned red again, as it spit out the next champion’s name.
“The champion for Beauxbatons,” Dumbledore announced, “is Fleur Delacour!”
A lithe, Veela-like girl got up from her place at the Ravenclaw table. She shook out her silvery blonde hair and approached the head table. Her reception was very different from Krum’s as it appeared her classmates were more distraught at not having been chosen, rather than supporting their champion.
When Fleur Delacour had disappeared into the next room, silence fell once more. This time, it was in such great anticipation, the air felt stagnant and time seemed to halt. Only the Hogwarts champion was left…
The Goblet of Fire sparked red once more, and the last burned parchment slip fluttered into Dumbledore’s grasp.
“The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cedric Diggory!”
The roar of the Hufflepuffs was deafening. Draco couldn’t fault them one bit, Puffs never really won anything. Every single one of them had gotten to their feet, screaming and stamping as Diggory made his way toward the front of the Great Hall. The applause and cheers went on so long, that even Dumbledore couldn’t be heard over the top of it for some time.
“Excellent!” Dumbledore called happily as the students reined in their excitement. “We now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon you all, 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—“
Dumbledore halted his speech, distracted by the same thing the rest of the students had begun to notice. The goblet had started to spark red again. A long flame shot into the air for the fourth time, emitting another piece of parchment.
Curiously, the Headmaster reached out to catch it. There was a long pause as Dumbledore stared at the name written before him, and then he cleared his throat, reading out…
“Harry Potter.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Draco’s head dropped to the table.