✧JUDGEMENT DAY✧

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The days leading up to the pick seemed to make the main hall the current spot of interest, and it grew more popular as is. But Cara was too busy making a tally of who was entering from which school, and sure while she couldn't place her bets on those in other schools all that well—Her prediction could be fair well for America and Hogwarts at the least.

"Eternal glory. Be brilliant, wouldn't it? Three years from now, when we're old enough to be chosen?" Cara chuckled at Ron's words, considering the entire reason for this tournament was to see if it would be wise in returning back for good, if anything this was a trial to see if it fit the ethical standards of the century.

And from her seat a dozen or so paces away, hearing the tortures stories of people getting splinched and worse, then this wouldn't last past this year at all.

But Cara smiled to see Harry glancing uninterestedly towards the goblet of fire, his idea of adventure was sedated entirely. But Romulus nicked her attention off and away, "Missed those two from America—You think you can really do this?"

"Remember what Uncle said? Most magic could be broken down by understanding and mathematics, we're looking for a person who fits the category of earning eternal glory. And perhaps it's a bit biased of me to put myself here, but I really doubt the cup manages anything more than identifying a few key qualities." Cara dwelled into her expiration and Ronan scoffed beside her, his eyes not lifting up from his studies.

"Yeah? And what if it's based on a certain day? All the winners entered on a Thursday, or those who didn't hesitate?" It earned him the attention and wondering eyes of his two siblings. "Yeah, just a thought though."

"That was brilliant! I didn't even think of that Roe!" It caused Cara to grab a fresh sheet from her bag and jot down her ideas. "Hope you have time to finish McGonagal's essay with all this pointless mathematics...It's a killer." He grumbled, knowing full well he was capable of managing a scientific deduction of something as strange as the goblet sitting in front of him.

He just didn't have the interest in going much further than a theory.

"Course, couldn't sleep last night."

"Cara—"

"It's okay Rom, mum's sent me my pillow spray. I'll be out by nine tonight, will be brilliant to get a full night's rest for once." She said with a smile, but it dwindled just as Imara had sauntered her own way in.

And caused both Romulus and Cara to frown simultaneously, while Ronan turned to look at the three entirely. "I don't know why I bother trying to understand you three, every time I think I'm close to a decent conversation—I'm behind in the next one!" He said, slamming his book and pushing himself back against the bleachers.

"Imara was brewing a potion—"

"Not just any potion. Imara, did you not read mother's last owl?" Romulus's question had only earned him a laugh. "I'm not draft enough to actually go through with it, it's for two idiots who are." Her eyes flickered knowingly off towards the entrance, and the sudden cheers had erupted from all sides of the room when both Fred and George had held their potion bottles in the air.

"It's done, lads!" Fred hollered.

"Cooked it up fresh just this morning." George finished, but Cara tilted her head in wonder. Would it possibly work?

"Five galleons says it doesn't work," Cara whispered off towards her brothers and Imara smirked. "Course it won't work, try telling them that." While the bet was put off, Cara wasn't against putting the twins off and trying to correct them before they get too familiar with the idea of being able to enter.

"...It's not going to work regardless..." And thus, everyone's eyes turned to her—Making her the center of the attention as the room went silent.

"Yeah? And why's that, Lestrange?" George questioned, taking the seat right at her feet and nudging her as well.

"Dumbledore couldn't possibly be fooled by a mere aging potion, you're going to have to go in further to your potion's textbook if you want anything to help pass over that line." Fred had looked off towards Imara with a frown.
"You both didn't want to listen to me, good luck." She said, though her smile was widening by the second.

"Ah, but that's what makes it so brilliant. It's pathetically dim-witted!" Cara shrugged and offered her hand out for them to test. "Then I wish you all the best, goddess willing the consequences of whatever sort of protection it has doesn't harm you too badly." Now that certainly freaked Fred and George both, but for the sake of entertainment and the return of the cheering crowd—They hyped themselves back up with a quick, "Bottoms up!"

The Lestrange children watched the gooey green liquid vanish in the small bottle, and once it was completely emptied—The two took a rather dramatic step forward into the line encircling the goblet. Yet before they could even manage to put the names into the goblet, they were instantly rejected and thrown high into the air by an ever-changing light swirling around the room.
The two twins were flat on their back.

And not even a moment later, the two had started to sprout white hair on both their head and chins. The laughter had once again commenced as they tackled one another, claiming that the other had this ingenious idea from the get-go.

Leaving Cara to join the crowd and laugh into Romulus' side, even Romulus had discarded everything and howled upon seeing such a sight.

However, silence had soon washed over the entire room, again. And it was quite obvious what—who it was.

Victor Krum.

He dropped his name in without hesitation, glancing upon one of the Hogwarts students in the crowd briefly before sauntering off back to his own classmates. It was strange that he hadn't come with some of his mates like Cedric had before, but all Romulus had done was scribble the famous Quidditch player's name down for Cara's list.

"Ten galleons on Krum." Now that shocked his siblings outright, especially Imara since she knew her twin never took kindly to wagering funds.

"What makes you say that?" She said, getting up to her feet to follow him and his sudden interest in who would make the next champion.

He turned to her and taped a single digit to his temple and she sighed, perhaps it is just a guess or he felt it.

In seeing the Weasley twins calm down, Romulus' figure had begun to twitch as he sprouted his own change—though this one was less dramatic and less off-putting than whitened hair, though he did favor his grey strains from time to time.

Instead, he took the line into consideration and stepped right on over, admiring the beautiful goblet right before them. "Oi! You're not seventeen!" George called out, scrambling forward. And Romulus only smirked, but goddess did he look like Sirius now that he's aged up.

"No, but the line doesn't know that because it's an organic change. Had you waited about ten minutes, perhaps it would've looked more realistic to the line." He beckoned, only to sigh towards the cup.

"Are you going to enter?" Fred asked, curious if the Ravenclaw would do such a thing. And it seemed like the rest of the room was just as interested.

"Have you met my mother? If the tournament doesn't kill me first, she'd save me the embarrassment and do it herself...No, I don't want eternal glory—Not like this at least." He claimed, taking the step back and returning to his siblings all while shifting back to his normal self.

Minus the hair color, considering he had felt drained—Resulting in his infamous grey streaks. "Yeah, better not." Cara had only smiled and hugged her notebook to her chest. "I would've voted for you brother." She said with a brightening expression, though it was both Saros and Nix that stared at their cousin in pure shock.

"Could you teach us how to do that! That was brilliant!" It was still strange for some regular Hogwarts students to hear a familiar accent than what's usually heard from across the pond.

"After the champions are chosen, just to ensure you aren't feeling a little Gryffindor courage to run off with." Nix laughed to see his brother's face fall, but the last thing that could possibly happen was Saros to enter in such a crazed tournament.

With the list complied and the probabilities run, Cara felt rather proud of her prediction as she at the Ravenclaw table that evening. Even if the rumor of the Beaubatons not submitting a single student reigned high into the air, it wasn't that—The headmistress of the French school was playing diligently with suggesting which of her seventh years would be a great fit for the tournament on their behalf.

There was accounted eight, and she allowed herself to fall in between two names.

But the real worrying aspect was that Anton had entered into the tournament, being of age and being a good champion to represent Ilvernmorny's school.

What was even worse, is it sounded as though Romulus didn't know his best friend entered. And Cara knew that she wasn't going to be the one to out the secret, especially when there was no point—Not when the probability of him getting chosen out of a good fifty-four students. And they were the largest with both witches and wizards having taken entry, all in hopes of internal glory.

"Yeah, yeah. Internal glory. The winning pot is a better reward, not looking forward to the media flocking through the halls over this." Romulus said, rather bitter that the entire school was falling for the hype.

Or was he just damned that he wasn't old enough to participate?

"Now...The moment has finally arrived!" Dumbledore announced, silencing the room from the raging excitement as he drew his wand and gives a great sweeping motion across the room. Instantly, the torches lining the hall flicker, then die. The only light now coming from the blue and white flames sparking from the goblet. A hush immediately descends, as the whispers nearly picked up once again. But the way the professors at the front were gazing up at the podium, it was likely that the goblet was already making its first decision.

Cara clutched her notebook tightly to her chest, her nerves sending out never-ending pinches throughout her body that caused her to feel nauseous from the unannounced pain. "You alright?" George asked, placing a hand onto Cara's shoulder that nearly knocked her over if he hadn't squeezed her shoulder.

Romulus had missed the families beginning to cackle and turn red as he focused on his sister. "Cara? What is it?" Her eyes remained planted on the fire as she shook her head.

"Nicht in Ordnung..." [Something not right]
George had caught his friend's face turning pale, but didn't make a comment on it. And instead offer his support for Cara to lean on, which she was grateful he did.

"The champion for Durmstrang is...Victor Krum!" A storm of applause echoed throughout the great hall, but it wasn't all that surprising given that Cara's estimates of only Victor entering made it near impossible for someone else to be deemed worthy. But the first-named champion had risen from the Slytherin table and made his way up to receive his ticket before leaving the room entirely.

With the hint of another flicker, the room leveled out the noise and held a breath as the flames turned red.

Issuing the second piece of parchment.

"The campion for Beaubatons is...Fleur Delacour!" She walk with elegant grace towards Dumbledore and gave him a firm handshake, smiling at the prospect of joining the ranks for this tournament.

Until the Ilvermorny student had been named, and Romulus nearly jumped out of his seat at the call of Anton Halliwell. The smug lad had received plenty of hoots and hollers from his American classmates, and a polite few from the rest of the schools.

But Romulus refused to clap, was he out of his god-forsaken mind?!

"Bless it be...He's going to get himself killed," Imara said, shaking her head in near disappointment. Before there were no stakes or connection, and now the entire Lestrange family—Minus Lydia—was shivering at the idea of their cousin getting hurt.

"And lastly, the Hogwarts champion—Cedric Diggory!" There had been a handful of groans from the eager Gryffindors ready to prove just how thickheaded and impulsive they are to jump in front of a sword. Or in this case, deadly challenges.

The excitement rallied further, sure Ronan was hoping one of the 7th year Slytherins get chosen in hopes of bringing glory to Hogwarts on their own. But even he had to admit that Diggory held a very good chance at winning the tournament.

"Excellent! We now have our four champions. I'm sure I can count upon all of you to give your full support to each and every—" There was an erupt gasp throughout the room that cut Dumbledore short. The flames were continuing to flicker, nearly as ominous as before when it was deciding upon champions. And much like before, it turned red.

A fifth shred of parchment began to flutter into the air, and it remained that way as Dumbledore stared at it suspiciously—wondering if he should bother to take it.

When it had finally come close enough, he reached for it and nearly ripped it apart in urgency. "Harry Potter!"

It was hard to miss the absolute rage coming from Dumbledore, and at that moment—Those attending Hogwarts couldn't blame or believe it either. The tournament was originally meant for three, and the new addition of Ilvermorny meant four—But five?!

The suspension of where Harry was in the grand hall was going unknown, but Cara could only stare up at the damned cursed goblet in damnation.

Her friend didn't do this, he wasn't stupid enough to.

"Harry Potter!" The headmaster repeated, and the faces scattered about, wanting to find a type of explanation. But amongst the crowd, Hermione had done the curtesy to grab him back the back of his jumper in order to pull him to his feet.

Romulus could feel his heart beating in his ears, the blood pumping through his veins so loudly while he watched helplessly as Harry slowly walked past the rest of the house tables.

But once he catches sight of Dumbledore, he flinched as he caught the utter scowl the headmaster had given the room.

"Goddess give me strength."

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Date Posted: 01/29/2022

Time: 11:51

Words: 2461