The mood in the dining hall was particularly boisterous. Marlowe could barely focus on his food, knowing what was coming. He kept shifting his position and glancing up at the faculty table in the hopes that Professor Osset would stand soon to make the announcement. Caiti and Evelyn seemed much more interested in the other students. A few girls from Beauxbatons had sat down with Amelia and her friend Miriam a little ways down the Ravenclaw table. Caiti and Evelyn had been observing them ever since.

"Uh oh, Marlowe," Caiti said suddenly, just as the dinner plates cleared and refilled with desserts. "Don't look over there, Amelia's trying to catch your eye."

"Shoot, hide me," he said.

Caiti leaned forward on the pretense of listening to Sean across the table and Marlowe sunk down low in his seat.

"I don't know what any of this is," Sean was saying, looking blankly at all the desserts.

Evelyn twisted her lips to one side, thinking. "Well, that's creme brulee," she said, pointing to a large dish full of something pale yellow that looked sort of like a flan, it's top lightly browned. "And... that's some sort of a rice pudding. And maybe a custard tart? Couldn't tell you the rest."

Marlowe peered at the various new dishes himself. The whole feast had been unusual, apparently intended to offer some familiarity to the foreign students. He helped himself to a bit of something that he was pretty sure was baked apples, took one small bite and nodded, going back for a larger one.

Sean stared at everything for another minute and then grabbed a spoonful of the same dish Marlowe was now shoveling into his mouth.

After what felt like an eternity, the dessert plates cleared. Marlowe had been hunched over, chin on his hand, silently rushing everyone around him to finish eating. Now he sat bolt upright, attention rapt and directed at Professor Osset who seemed not to have noticed that the plates had emptied themselves, signaling the end of the feast. He seemed to be the only one who hadn't noticed. A hush, broken only by a smattering of anticipatory whispers, had swept across the great hall in only a few seconds. All eyes were turned towards the faculty table where the three heads were finishing up what appeared to be a vibrant conversation.

Finally, Professor Osset turned away from his fellow headmistresses to face the students again. He smiled around at them all, hands clasped in front of him on the table, but did not stand.

Marlowe was about to burst. He waited, hands gripping his thighs just above the knee, for about fifteen seconds before he couldn't take it any longer.

"Hey!" he called loudly. Everyone's heads turned towards him, some shocked or startled, others - mostly those who knew Marlowe - breaking into grins and amused smirks. "We're ready!" he said. The great hall erupted in laughter.

Caiti he noticed, looked a little pink on his behalf, but giggled anyway. Professor Osset seemed not to have minded his potentially rude outburst in front of the guests. He, too, was chuckling to himself. He pushed back his chair and stood. Marlowe grinned and saluted him.

"Yes, yes, of course." said Professor Osset. "I know you're all anxious to hear the details of the reason we're all gathered here tonight. Forgive me for hoping to extend such a truly pleasant evening. I would like to begin by extending once more our warmest welcome to our guests." He beamed around at them all.

"Tonight, as you all very well know, marks the beginning of an exciting event: the Triwizard Tournament. In a week's time we shall know our three champions, three bright, gifted, young students who are sitting in this room tonight, and I'm sure you will give them all your support. But first, I must introduce an old friend of mine, Mr. Robert Fenwick, head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry who will explain the rules." He turned back to face a very thin man in shabby robes that looked far too large for him. When he stood, they pooled around his ankles, a few inches too long, and hung off his shoulders where his frame did not fill them. Everyone applauded politely while he made his way to the front of the room.

Despite his less than put together appearance, Mr. Fenwick looked quite proud and business-like. His voice, when he addressed them, was not feeble as Marlowe had expected, but commanding. "Good evening," he said, brandishing his wand from his pocket. "I am here tonight to present to you the Goblet of Fire." He waved his wand and a black sheet flew off a pedestal at the center - Marlowe did not know when it had arrived there, perhaps sometime during the feast when he had been occupied in his potatoes. Underneath was a stone cup, intricately engraved, and quite ancient looking. A hairline crack ran down the front.

"This is, of course, a powerful, dangerously powerful magical object, the likes of which I warn you against attempting to cross. It's task is to choose from among you, the best and the brightest of each school represented tonight. In a few moments, the cup will ignite in flame, and over the next week, those of you who are of age," he slowed here, punctuating each word, "That is to say, those students of seventeen and older only, who wish to put forth their name for possible selection, may put their names in the cup. 

"I want to impress upon you all that, if chosen, there is no backing out. This tournament is not to be taken lightly so please give it deep consideration before submitting your name. Once your name is emitted from the goblet, you are bound to the rules of the tournament and to competing in three extremely dangerous tasks. If you feel you are certain you wish to enter, you may write your name and your school on a slip of paper and drop it into the flames. Next Saturday, the goblet will choose one name from each school."

Marlowe shot Sean an excited grin.

"Now," said Mr. Fenwick, "Let the tournament... begin." He waved his wand once more and the goblet of fire ignited, bright blue flames flaring up from inside the cup. They burned tall for a few moments, flames twisting towards the rafters and the dark, cloudy enchanted sky above them, before settling back down where they continued to flicker steadily.

If Marlowe had been a cartoon, the blue flames would have been reflected in his eyes. He stared at it with a sort of reverence usually reserved for Quidditch or Caiti talking about potions: the two things he had more respect for than almost anything else. Professor Osset stood to make a few closing remarks, but Marlowe, thoughts already drifting towards his imminent victory in the tournament, did not hear any of it.

When the noise level in the hall suddenly rose and everyone began to rise, Marlowe looked at Sean with an excited grin. He could not find the words for what he was feeling. It was an excitement like nothing he had ever felt. Sean grinned back as he stood and they all began to shuffle their way towards the large doors to the entrance hall, stuck in a traffic jam of students, uncomfortably full and ready to find their beds. Caiti yawned widely, not bothering to cover her mouth.

They were temporarily stalled by a bunch of students from the next table who had just stood and shoved their way into the crowd. "So you're going to do it?" Caiti asked, leaning into Marlowe's side. "You're going to enter?"

Marlowe felt his stomach do a little flip which he decided to pass off on the possibility of being champion, pointedly ignoring the fact that it had happened the moment Caiti had come into contact with him. "You bet," he said, looping his arm over her shoulder. He felt her weight peel away as the crowd began moving again and they continued to edge forward. "What do you think, Sean?" he asked. "Tomorrow morning?"

Sean turned around to grin at him. "Tomorrow morning," he agreed.

Marlowe lay in bed for a long time before he fell asleep. He could not get the image of himself holding the Triwizard Cup out of his head, could not stop hearing the headmaster call out "The Hogwarts Champion is... Marlowe Finnegan!" Every time he thought about dropping his name in the Goblet of Fire, his stomach gave an excited lurch. He kept imagining Caiti's face if he was chosen.

If he were champion, maybe Caiti would...

But Marlowe did not know what he meant to finish that sentence with.

---

The next morning was gloomy. Rain splattered down the window of the seventh year Ravenclaw boy's dormitory and pounded on the roof of the tower. Marlowe stood looking out the window at a distorted, wet image of the grounds and frowned. They were supposed to have Quidditch practice that afternoon. Their first match was approaching, only a week away now, and his new team was not quite ready yet, in his opinion. He had hoped for a nice, clear day for a long practice to get things sorted, but he supposed a little training in the weather could be useful too. If they could keep themselves in order today, then they'd be in good shape for what would hopefully be a much better flying day next week.

He meandered into the bathroom to brush his teeth, feeling groggy and under-rested. He had sleep in the corner of his eyes and his hair was unsalvageable. It was not until he was toweling off after his shower that he realized what he had awoken so early on a Saturday for: the Goblet of Fire.

All at once, Marlowe's sluggish morning shuffle turned into a spunky, jaunty walk. He passed Sean back in their room, just now rolling out of bed.

"Morning!" he said brightly.

"Morning," yawned Sean, eyes screwed up.

"Don't take too long, alright?"

Sean shot him a look, eyes narrowed in mock annoyance. "I'll take however much time I like, thanks," he said.

Marlowe finished getting dressed and ready and then sat on his bed, trying to go over his plans for the practice that afternoon, but he couldn't focus. His thoughts were on one thing only and that was getting his name in the cup. Finally, he put the notes away and headed downstairs in the hopes that Caiti or Evelyn would come downstairs soon. Sure enough, Evelyn was sitting by the window in a navy plaid armchair, her long red hair swept up into a knot sitting on the crown of her head. Marlowe could not understand how she managed to fit all her hair into it.

"Hey Ev," he said, sliding into the chair opposite her.

"Morning," she smiled. "Sean's not up yet?"

"He's up, still getting ready," said Marlowe, drumming his fingers on the table. "Caiti up?"

"Don't know," said Evelyn, looking back out the window. "I didn't check her room."

Marlowe was getting antsy. He kept shifting his position, and glancing towards the entrances to the girl's and boy's dormitories. He and Evelyn didn't often talk alone. They were good friends, and he liked her very much, but they were friends by association with a shared best friend. If it were not for Sean, he and Evelyn would not likely have been more than friendly acquaintances.

"Pretty out there, isn't it?" she said, tracing one finger down the wiggly line left by a raindrop on the other side of the window pane.

"Pretty from in here," he agreed. "I've got Quidditch practice, though."

"Ask Caiti if she can make that potion to warm you back up when you come inside. Don't remember what it's called."

Marlowe knew the one she was talking about. Caiti had made it for him and Sean once the previous year when it had snowed during a Quidditch game and they come inside shivering convulsively. Caiti had confessed that she had not managed to sit through the whole game in the frigid air, but she had at least put herself to good use. The potion was ready for them when they got off the field and he had felt immensely better the moment it had hit his throat.It tasted like Christmas: like cinnamon and cloves and chocolate oranges.

"Yeah, maybe," he said thoughtfully.

Evelyn leaned her head against the window and looked at him. He wondered if she felt as uncomfortable as he did. "So you're all ready?" she asked. "To put your name in?"

He pulled a small slip of parchment out of his pocket on which he had written:

Marlowe Finnegan

Hogwarts

Evelyn peered at it and smiled. He stuck it back into his pocket. "I can't believe you two are actually going through with this," she said. "Aren't you scared at all?"

Marlowe shrugged. "Not really."

There were footsteps on the steps behind them and then Marlowe heard a yawn-stifled voice say "Morning, Ev." Sean had just come downstairs.

"Morning," Evelyn smiled. Sean squeezed her shoulder in greeting. She opened her mouth and said something but Marlowe did not hear it because another, louder sound had just broken the quiet in the common room.

There was a loud, high pitched shriek of surprise, a heavy thud followed by a few more smaller thuds, then a few seconds of complete silence, before a loud, fast, unmistakable laugh.

They all three turned their heads and Marlowe saw Caiti, legs sprawled out in front of her, lying on her back halfway down the stairs with her head thrown back, laughing. He jumped up to help her, Sean and Evelyn following a few steps behind.

She sat up as he approached, tears in her eyes. "What happened?" he asked. He held out both hands to help her up.

"Well," said Caiti. "You know how it's a spiral staircase?" She took his hands and let him pull her to standing. "I stepped too close to the smaller part of the wedge and slipped," she said, still fighting back laughter. She let go of one of his hands to rub a spot on her back. "Ow," she said, grinning.

"You alright?" he asked, all too aware of the fingers of her other hand lingering loose and absent-minded in his.

"Yeah," she said. "Just an idiot." Her hand dropped away from his.

He mussed up her hair with a laugh, and Caiti ducked out from underneath, moving her own hands to her head for protection as she started for the door.

"Well, Sean, what do you say?" said Marlowe, turning around. "Shall we get this show on the road?"

"Let's," he agreed.

Several minutes later, the four of them entered the great hall, Marlowe in the lead and heading for the front of the hall where the Triwizard Cup burned blue. The further they walked, the more heads turned and followed their progress. Marlowe felt a grin growing on his face and an excitement bubbling up in his stomach like he felt just before a quidditch match. At the end of the long tables, Evelyn and Caiti hung back, and he and Sean approached the cup. "Together?" asked Marlowe. He felt jittery and almost outside himself.

"Together," agreed Sean.

They stepped over the age line drawn around the cup to ensure that no one broke the age restriction.

"One," said Sean, holding his own bit of parchment up to the fire. The blue flames seemed to swell a little in anticipation.

"Two" said Marlowe. They looked at each other.

"Three," they said together. Marlowe opened his hand and dropped his name into the cup. The hall broke out into a smattering of applause and a few people yelled out words of encouragement or congratulations. Caiti gave Marlowe a little side hug as he reached her again. He felt light and funny, still not quite present. All the way down the Ravenclaw table, people reached out their hands to shake or high five.

"I hope you get it, Marlowe!" called Amelia, scrambling for his attention. He found that, for once, he did not mind.

"Tell you what, Caiti," he said when they had sat down. He could not wipe the grin off his face. He felt a certain fulfillment after so many years of waiting to do this, not to mention a sort of reckless, confidence, even a little arrogance. "I've got a new bet for you."

"Alright, let's hear it," said Caiti.

"If my name comes out of that cup," he said, "You kiss me."

Caiti raised her eyebrows, a tiny smile on her lips.