Three Champions
In his past three full years of Hogwarts, Harry Potter couldn’t remember a time when the Great Hall had been this alive with excitement. He doubted there had ever been a time, really, as this place was just that buzzing and loud, crowded and cramped with students from various backgrounds, all excited about the same thing. You would think there would be more complaining, but quite honestly, no one, even his best friend Ron, seemed to care about the food on their plates, much less the people around them.
There was only one thing on everyone’s minds; The Goblet of Fire. And finally it seemed the ceremony was about to begin.
All the kids turned in their seats to face the goblet filled with blue flames--if they weren’t already--and anticipated the moment when it would light up in red flames, the chosen names coming out.
“Any second…” Lee Jordan whispered as he leaned closer to the cup, turning his head around when feeling his best friends Fred and George’s hands on his shoulders. “Angelina! Angelina! Angelina!” They began to chant in a whisper before Hermione reached across the table to bat at them, hissing, “Sh!” before turning back to the cup and mouthing “Angelina…” herself.
Then suddenly, with a loud crackle and whoosh of the flames, the blue turned to scarlet, and a jet of hot orange flame shot out of the cup, a shard of charred parchment fluttering out. Several gasps bounced across the room, and then Professor Dumbledore reached his hand to catch the black piece, shaking it in the air before peering through his half moon spectacles at the writing.
“The champion for Durmstrang… will be Viktor Krum!” A wave of applause spread across the hall and soon Viktor had risen from where he sat beside Draco Malfoy at the Slytherin table and walked over towards the door behind the staff table. Ron, amidst loud claps that sounded like they hurt his hands, leaned towards Harry to say, “No surprise there.”
Harry nodded along, grinning, then quieted down with the rest of the school and leaned forwards as the goblet turned scarlet once more. A second tongue of orange flames shot out, and Dumbledore caught this piece of paper just as cleanly as the first, reading off, “The champion for Beauxbatons… is Fleur Delacour!”
“It’s her, Ron!” Harry pointed, recognizing the beautiful teen as the girl who resembled a Veela a little too much, especially now as she tossed her sheet of blonde hair on her path between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables up to the door Viktor had gone through. Fleur left just as he had and the clapping died down once more, all of the Hogwarts students now tense with the knowledge that their champion would be next.
“Angelina… Angelina… Angelina…”
“The Hogwarts champion…” It seemed everyone in the room was holding their breath, or at least everyone around Harry. “Cedric Diggory!”
Fred, George, and Lee groaned but clapped anyway, as Ron didn’t hide his disappointment as well, instead shouting out, “No!” Though no one could hear, as the roar from the neighboring Hufflepuff table had stolen all sounds of anything but clapping and hollering, as Cedric’s nearby friends forced him up from his seat and towards Dumbledore, where he stumbled but managed to regain his footing rather quickly, nodding to the Headmaster then jogging up the steps to the door.
Even after he had left the crowd continued to cheer, showing no restraint or signs of stopping at all, until Dumbledore finally spoke out above them, everyone knowing instantly to respect the man’s superiority even though their adrenaline was pumping with excitement so much no one could imagine sleeping that night.
“Excellent! 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 champions on, you’ll contribute in a very real--”
Suddenly, the old wizard stopped speaking, but there was no reason to think why, as the goblet had suddenly lit with scarlet flames once more. The room went dead silent as the man turned to walk towards the thing, a couple of professor’s rising from their seats, wide eyed and gaping at the goblet, when two jets of orange sprung from its depths, pieces of parchment attached. They flew around in the air a bit, wifty and free, before falling towards each other and locking, like two puzzle pieces, in Dumbledore’s hands.
For a moment, he simply stared at the paper, eyes as wide as anyone had ever seen, as shocked as anyone had ever seen him be as well. Then, he raised his head, and in a voice that almost shook declared, “Harry Potter… and Draco Malfoy!”
Somehow, the room stayed as silent as possible, but the tension shifted to something different. Not excitement or anticipation, but twisted curiosity. Wonder, at how two fourth year students had gotten their names into the goblet. And not just any fourth years, but the two most popular students in the grade, and known arch nemesis’, who had not just gotten into the goblet but also put their names on the same piece of paper.
“Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy!” Dumbledore repeated after the silence lasted too long, and Harry, sitting in pure stunned silence, felt Hermione shove him forward slightly, whispering, “Go on.” But Harry stayed still, numb. It was impossible. Simply impossible. Hermione had explained the Age Line, not to mention he himself had never crossed it. He thought. But in his life he knew what he ‘thought’ didn’t take him very far, and this clearly was one of those situations.
Professor McGonagall quickly stood from her chair at the staff table, swiftly marching down the steps to Dumbledore and bending down to whisper something in his ear. He frowned as he listened to her, then raised his hand towards the Gryffindor table. “Harry Potter? Up here please!” Then to the Slytherin table, “Draco Malfoy! If you please!”
“Go!” Hermione hissed once more, shoving him harder. Harry stumbled to his feet then spun around to look at his friends. “I didn’t put my name in,” he said blankly, “You know I didn’t.” They simply stared at him like they didn’t even recognize the boy they were looking at, and Harry turned around to look at the rest of Gryffindor table, and then the Ravenclaw’s and Hufflepuff’s, and at last the Slytherin’s. All except for them were gawking at him, jealous or shocked. The Slytherin’s were too wrapped up in yelling at Draco to get up to the door, Crabbe and Goyle picking him up by the arms and shoving him forward.
Now both boys were stumbling towards the door, almost tripping over their robes in their shock, faces blank and numb, but eyes like saucers.
Draco was the first to reach the door, and he fumbled with the handle for a moment, before pushing it open and practically falling inside, not bothering to keep the door held open for Harry as he followed shortly behind. Harry took one last look at the room before closing the door, catching Hagrid’s eye last. Even the kind giant didn’t smile or wink in his usual greeting, instead staring at him just as Ron and Hermione had. Harry closed the door and could almost hear the churning in his stomach.
The room he and Draco now were inside was much smaller, and lined with portraits of witches and wizards, with a handsome fire crackling in the fireplace. Viktor, Cedric, and Fleur had all stood themselves around this fire, and didn’t seem to notice the entering of Harry and Draco, who stood just outside the light of the fire, faces in shadow, trying to avoid even glancing at each other.
There was silence for a minute, which was then broken when Fleur started to adjust her shiny hair and caught sight of the two boys, turning to face them. “What is it?” She said in her thick French accent. “Do they want us back in the Hall?”
“Er--No.” Draco managed to get out, coughing and sideying Harry. The boy didn’t bother looking back. He didn’t know how to explain what had just happened, as he didn’t really know, and couldn’t even find it within himself to be offended that Fleur had instantly assumed he was a messenger boy.
There was a sound of scurrying feet behind them, suddenly, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took the two boys by the arms and led them forward, squeezing hard enough to make them wince. “Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen… lady, may I introduce--incredible though it may seem--the fourth and fifth Triwizard champions?”
Viktor raised his chin, straightening and raising an eyebrow as if sizing Harry up, then shifting his gaze to Draco in question. The blonde managed to give a crooked grin to the others, but Harry remained frozen, face still blank and numb. Cedric meanwhile jerked his head between the three--Harry, Ludo, and Draco--as if he had misheard the man. Fleur tossed her hair once more, smiling. “Oh, very funny joke, Mister Bagman.” Though with her accent it sounded like, ‘Meester.’
“Joke?” Bagman repeated, bewildered. “No, no, not at all! These boys’ names just came out of the Goblet of Fire!” Viktor and Cedric’s faces remained the same, only blinking, as Fleur’s smile flinched. “But evidently there has been a mistake. They cannot compete. They are too young.”
“Well… it is amazing.” Said Bagman, stepping away from the two and surveying them while rubbing his smooth chin. “But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as their name’s have come out of the goblet… I mean, I don’t think there can be any ducking out at this stage… It’s down in the rules, you’re obliged… Harry and Draco will just have to do the best that they--”
The door behind them burst open and a whole crowd of people seemed to tumble in, though it really was just Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape, all arguing with each other in indiscernible voices over, no doubt, Harry and Draco. They could all catch the sound of shouting outside in the Great Hall, before McGonagall slammed the door shut. At Dumbledore’s and Snape’s worried gazes she quickly said, “Hagrid will take care of it.”
“Madame Maxime!” Fleur said at once, standing from her seat to stride over to her own headmistress. “They are saying that these little boy’s are to compete also!” Draco suppressed a sneer and Harry felt his stomach churn in mild anger at her calling them ‘little boy’s’, but they otherwise kept silent as Maxime, who looked positively enraged, turned to Dumbledore, drawing herself up to her full height as if to intimidate him. “What is the meaning of this, Dumbly-dorr?”
“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore.” Said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. “Three Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed three champions--or have I not read the rules carefully enough.” He gave a short laugh that didn’t hold even the slightest real glee.
“C’est impossible.” said Maxime, as she rested a hand on Fleur’s shoulder firmly, the girl looking very comfortable under her grip, smiling at Dumbledore like a princess. “Hogwarts cannot have three champions. It is most unjust.” She said, and Karkaroff nodded along, stepping forward and grinning sickly.
“We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore.” He said, smile still in place. “Otherwise, of course, we would have brought wider selections of candidates from our own schools.”
“It was nobody’s fault but whoever wrote them, Karkaroff.” Snape said, raising up the burned slip and letting the light catch it just so that the magically glowing names of ‘Harry Potter’ and ‘Draco Malfoy’ shined brightly to everyone in the room. “Their names were written on the same paper. Clearly, one thought it would be a silly joke to put the other’s name on his own paper and take him into the tournament with him. Maybe get the drop on him where no rules applied…”
Draco had turned to stare at the man now with his gray eyes as wide as saucers, but Harry was used to this kind of talk from Snape, only staring ahead as blankly as ever.
“Thank you, Severus.” Dumbledore silenced quickly, waving a hand towards the man then turning to the boys, looking at both of them very carefully. “Now, Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?” He asked calmly and Harry instantly shook his head.
“No.”
“Did you have an older student put your name in for you?”
“No.”
“But obviously he is lying!” Dumbledore ignored her, instead turning to Draco, who looked quite honestly as if he was about to throw up. “Did you, Draco, put your name in the Goblet of Fire?”
“No!”
“Did you have an older student put your name in for you?”
“Of course not!”
Dumbledore shrugged, raising his hands as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and there was nothing he believed more. “Then there you have it.”
“He could not have crossed the Age Line.” Professor McGonagall stated sharply, as if there was nothing in the world she believed more. “I am sure we are all agreed on that--” It was now Maxime’s turn to shrug, saying, “Dumbly-dorr could have made a mistake with the line.”
“It is possible, of course.” Said Dumbledore politely, though he seemed focused on examining the burnt paper as he took it back from Snape’s hand rather than paying much attention to the argument.
“Dumbledore, you know perfectly well you did not make a mistake! Really, what nonsense. Potter and Malfoy could not have crossed the line themselves, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that they did not persuade an older student to do it for them, I’m sure that should be good enough for everybody else!” McGonagall didn’t even try to hide the glare she sent Snape’s way.
“Mr. Crouch… Mr Bagman,” said Karkaroff in a voice far too sweet, “You are our--er--objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?”
Bagman, who looked to be sweating profusely from the argument between people way more important than he, wiped his face with a handkerchief then quickly turned to Crouch. The Ministry man was standing outside the firelight just as Draco and Harry were, his face hidden in shadow just as theirs were too. He looked quite eerie, the shadow on his face making him look older, and almost skull-like. But when he spoke, it was in his usual curt voice.
“We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the Tournament.” Draco, who had been hopeful he’d get out of this up until this point, now looked positively dejected.
“Well, Barty knows the rulebook back to front,” Bagman turned around quickly back to Karkaroff and Maxime, grinning wide, face a little less red.
“I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students.” Said Karkaroff, dropping his tone and grin to take on quite an ugly look of hate as he turned to face Dumbledore. “You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has three champions. It’s only fair, Dumbledore.”
Bagman shook his head. “But Karkaroff, it doesn’t work like that. The Goblet of Fire’s just gone out--it won’t reignite until the start of the next Tournament--” “In which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!” Karkaroff was quick to shout. “After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!”
“Empty threat, Karkaroff.” A voice growled from near the door, and everyone turned around quickly to see who it was. “You can’t leave your champion now. He’s got to compete. They’ve all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?” Moody stepped out from the shadows and limped towards the fire, his wooden leg clunking with every right step he took.
“Convenient?” Said Karkaroff. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Moody.” Harry could tell he was trying to sound disdainful, as though what Moody was saying was barely worth his notice, but he hands gave him away; they had balled themselves into fists.
“Don’t you?” Moody’s voice was quiet, almost taunting. He had an eyebrow raised, and in the shadow he still resided in outside the fire light, among Crouch, Draco, and Harry, his smirk was only half noticeable. “It’s very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put these boys’ names in that Goblet knowing they’d have to compete if it came out.”
“Evidently, someone who wished to give Hogwarts three bites at the apple!” Exclaimed Maxime. “I quite agree, Madame Maxime.” Karkaroff said, bowing to her. “I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards--
“If anyone’s got reason to complain, it’s the boys. But… funny thing.. I don’t hear them saying a word.” Moody pointed out, earning a confused look of fear from Draco and the same blank look as ever from Harry.
“Why should they complain?” Burst out Fleur, stamping her foot. “They have a chance to compete, don’t they? We have all been hoping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! The honor of our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money--this is a chance many would die for!”
“Maybe someone’s hoping the boys are going to die for it.” Moody said, his half noticeable grin getting wider and therefore more noticeable. Draco and Harry both flinched, eyes flicking to each other for just a moment, as the room fell into a tense silence.
“Moody, old man…” Bagman attempted to laugh and failed miserably as he bounced from foot to foot on his feet. “What a thing to say!”
“We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn’t discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime.” Said Karkaroff, rather loudly. “Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination, too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons.” Karkaroff was making no attempt to hide his contempt for Dumbledore at this point, but the instant offense Moody took to this covered up his backhanded comment.
“Imagining things, am I?” He growled once more. “Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy’s name in that Goblet--” “And what evidence is there of that?” Said Maxime, throwing up her hands.
“What evidence does there need to be? They hoodwinked a very powerful magical object! It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that Goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the Tournament… I’m guessing they submitted the boys' names under a fourth school, to make sure they were the only ones in their category…”
Draco’s eyes shot to the top of his head in instant suspicion as Karkaroff spoke once more. “You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody, and a very ingenious theory it is--though, of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you’ll understand if we don’t take you entirely seriously--”
“Will you two stop acting like children and start acting like teachers! It doesn’t matter how or why Potter and Malfoy’s names got in the Goblet--at least not now. Right now we should be discussing how to move forward with the Tournament.”
“There are those who’ll turn innocent occasions to their advantage,” Moody downright ignored McGonagall, who threw her hands in the air and scoffed as he kept his eyes on Karkaroff, finally taking a step into the light. “It’s my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff--as you ought to remember…”
“Alastor!” Dumbledore exclaimed warningly and in an instant Moody had fallen silent, but remained surveying Karkaroff, a hint of a smirk still laid on his mouth. Karkaroff was redder than Bagman.
“Minerva is right. How this situation arose, we do not know,” Said Dumbledore, speaking as calmly as ever and in great contrast to everyone else in the room. “It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Cedric, Harry, and Draco have all been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do.”
“Ah, but Dumbly-dorr--” “My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it.” Dumbledore waited, but Madame Maxime did not speak, she merely glared, and she wasn’t the only one in the room who did. Snape looked furious; Karkaroff livid; McGonagall exhausted; Crouch entirely blank along with Harry; the other Champions confused; and Draco terrified. But Bagman looked quite excited.
“Well, shall we crack on, then?” He said, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room even while the people in it continued to give each other cold glares.
“No, we shall not.” Karkaroff stated, eyes on Dumbledore as the old man raised both of his eyebrows. “I refuse to compete in a Tournament designed against me. Madame Maxime and I have no chances against three champions. So, unless you find a way to light that Goblet and get us the numbers we deserve, I think I can speak for her and I when I say we are leaving.”
McGonagall cast a worried look to Snape and Dumbledore and the two men locked eyes, then turned their backs on the other, the Headmaster gesturing for her to do so as well. She scoffed once more, muttering a curse under her breath then flicking her wand around them, whispering, “Muffliato!” then turning as well.
Now the three spoke and everyone else in the room heard the sound of buzzing fill their ears, making it impossible to hear what they were saying. Karkaroff scowled, folding his arms and looking up at Maxime, seeming to share his own private conversation with her with just his eyes. Moody waited patiently, looking all too proud, while Bagman was shifting on his feet once more, face turning a bright scarlet.
Finally, the three Professor’s turned and McGonagall flicked her wand once more, the buzzing leaving everyone’s ears in an instant. Now it was her turn to look furious alongside Snape, while Dumbledore attempted a negotiable smile.
“My colleagues and I have reached a decision; In the coming two weeks, you will be allowed to admit your remaining students into the Tournament and two more Beauxbatons and two more Durmstrang students will be chosen to compete by the relit Goblet. The first week will be spent deciding on students and getting the Goblet fixed to light up again, and the second will be the submission period for names. No Hogwarts student will be allowed to participate in the second round of drawings, and I shall modify my Age Line to equip this requirement as well. I trust that will be good enough for everyone here?”
By the way Karkaroff still scowled at the trio of Professor’s you would think that would not be good for him at all, but Maxime smiled and nodded, seemingly pleased. “Yes I believe that will be perfect Dumbly-dorr.” The Headmaster smiled back warmly.
“Good. Now, Barty,” Dumbledore turned to look at Mr. Crouch with mild concern as the man seemed to snap out of a reverie. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay at Hogwarts tonight?”
“No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry.” The man said at once, stepping into the firelight and allowing everyone to see just how ill he looked. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and his skin was a thin, papery white. He looked nothing like the man he’d met at the Quidditch World Cup, that’s for sure. “It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment… I’ve left young Weatherby in charge… very enthusiastic… a little over-enthusiastic, if truth be told…”
“You’ll come and have a drink before you go, at least?” Asked Dumbledore. “Com on, Barty, I’m staying!” Said Bagman brightly. “It’s all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!”
“I think not, Ludo.” Said Crouch, sounding his usual amount of impatience.
“Professor Karkaroff--Madame Maxime--a nightcap?” Dumbledore turned to ask, only to see both had scurried off with their champions under their arms, whispering in their ears in very fast French and Bulgarian.
Dumbledore didn’t break stride, instead turning to Harry, Draco, and Cedric with a smile. “I suggest you boys go to bed. I am sure Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise.”
Harry glanced over at Cedric, who nodded, then turned to Draco, who didn’t look at either of them, instead turning on his heel and numbly stumbling towards the door.
Harry had never seen the Great Hall empty before, and certainly didn’t want to again, by how eerie it was. The candles had burnt low, giving the jagged smiles of the pumpkins creepy, flickering grins that seemed to mock them with each step forward they took. As they walked, Cedric stepped up between the boys and grinned.
“So, the Seekers of Quidditch at Hogwarts, eh? How about that?” Harry stayed silent while Draco simply grunted in response. “We’re playing against each other again! C’mon, isn’t that cool?”
“I s’pose.” Said Harry, while Draco hummed his response.
Neither could really think of anything to say. Harry’s head was in complete disarray, as though his brain had been ransacked, while Draco’s buzzed with random thoughts on random topics, ranging from if his father would be proud of him or if Moody’s suspicions could be correct.
“So tell me…” said Cedric, as they reached the Entrance Hall, which was now lit only by torches in the absence of the Goblet of Fire. He stopped, knowing they were about to split off in different directions to get to their Common Rooms. “How did you get your names in?”
The boys stopped and spun around, Harry instantly looking offended. “We didn’t. We didn’t put our names in! I was telling the truth.”
“So was I.” Draco stood straight, crossing his arms in an attempt to bring back his usual entitled bully look. “At least I know I didn’t put my name in.” Harry’s eyebrows shot up behind his bangs as he stared at Malfoy. “You’re kidding? You actually think I put our names in?” Draco’s face remained still as stone and after a moment he turned on his heel and headed down the steps to the Dungeons.
“See you in the morning, Potter… Diggory.” He waved a hand before disappearing out of sight. Harry instantly spun to Cedric, eyes still wide as saucers. “You believe me, right?”
“Ah… Sure.” Cedric said weakly, attempting to smile. Harry glared, eyes narrowed as he scratched the back of his neck and started to back away. “Well… see you, then.” Instead of going up the marble staircase, Cedric headed for a door to its right, and Harry stood listening to his footsteps for a moment--just until they faded--then, slowly, started to climb the marble stairs.
Well, maybe Cedric didn’t believe him, and Malfoy of course didn’t, but Hermione and Ron surely would, right?
-*-*-*-
Draco had always found himself feeling rather at peace in the Slytherin common room. It had been the only place in the Castle to remind him of Malfoy Manor, so why else wouldn’t he be delighted by the green lighting, open view of the lake, and soft cushioned sofas and chairs.
Now was not a night when he could particularly enjoy this, however, as now when he whispered the password to the plain patch of stone wall and stepped through the open passage to the chamber, he was bombarded with a crowd of students trying to reach him, all shouting various questions or congratulations. The first person he could register near him was Pansy Parkinson, who had flung her whole body at him and linked her arms around his neck, seemingly not caring about personal boundaries.
He pushed down the begrudging voice in his head saying that she never did.
“Oh Draco you’re back! Congratulations! Hogwarts Champion! Oh I just know you’ll blow Diggory and Potter right out of the water.” She said in a shrill voice that made Draco wince as he attempted to disentangle himself from her grip, looking around the room for a way out of the crowd. “Yeah, yeah, that’s great, Pansy, but er--I’d like to get some sleep if you--”
“Malfoy!” Draco blanched as Blaise burst out of the crowd to grin at him, holding up his hand. “Congrats, man! Now, tell us, how’d you do it?” He gripped Draco by the arm after the boy weakly high fived him and started to guide him through the crowd. “Even those Weasley’s couldn’t without getting old. How could you possibly have figured it out?”
"Do you think I’m not smarter than them to have done so?" Draco snapped, not being able to restrain himself this time. Blaise blinked once, then grinned once more. "Ha ha, funny. So you did it then? I’ll ask again; how?" Draco licked his lips, glancing around at all the students leaned closer towards him, Pansy leaned against the back of the sofa and tried to make it so her cleavage would show. Problem being she had none.
Draco turned back to Blaise and patted his hand. "Slytherin’s never reveal their secrets," he said, standing and winking. "Do they?" Then, without breaking a stride, he jogged up the steps to his room.
He flopped down face first on his bed and felt like he could sleep for days.
Curiously, with his mind so focused on images of Crouch’s ghostly, thin skin, Moody’s half shadowed grin, and the burning Goblet spitting out he and Harry’s names, the boy didn’t get even a wink of sleep that night.