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┄┄ .•* 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟐 *•. ┄┄

𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔

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The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. There seemed to be only one topic of conversation during the following week: the Triwizard Tournament. Rumors were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves. 

Well, Hermione had gotten another letter from Aidan Lynch (answering her response to him) during one of the breakfasts of the week. The letter was much longer than the previous one and he mainly related to her his last Quidditch Practice. Apparently, one of his teammates had sent a bludger to another, which cause the latter to fall of his brooms and land on top of their coach. He also mentioned that he may start to write less as Quidditch season was starting. Hermione promptly answered that there was no trouble, at all, and that she would also be occupied with other things. 

Meanwhile, in the castle, they noticed that it seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.

Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too. "Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

When they went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, they found that the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts House: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down beside Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. Once again, and most unusually, they were sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices. Ron led the way over to them.

"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

"Who's avoiding you?" said Ron, sitting down next to them.

"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.

"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," said George.

"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"

"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," said George bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."

"Wonder what the tasks are going to be?" said Ron thoughtfully. "You know, I bet we could do them, Harry. We've done dangerous stuff before. . . ."

"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."

"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.

"Who cares?" Hermione shrugged. "I like tasting again," Hermione moaned as she bit into her chocolate cake.

"Same," Ron mumbled his mouth full.

A whooshing noise from overhead, which announced the arrival of the post owls—Hermione had written back to Aidan Lynch and Vader had returned with a letter just last week so she wasn't expecting anything; unless you count the letter she knew Harry would get from Sirius. Just then she saw Hedwig soaring toward Harry.

Harry pulled off Sirius's reply and offered Hedwig his bacon rinds, which she ate gratefully. Then, checking that Fred and George were safely immersed in further discussions about the Triwizard Tournament, Harry read out Sirius's letter in a whisper to Ron and Hermione.

Nice try, Harry.

I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself and your friends. Don't forget what I said about your scar.

"Why d'you have to keep changing owls?" Ron asked in a low voice.

"Cause Hedwig's awesome and attracts attention," Hermione said and just then another owl dropped a letter in her lap. She frowned looking down and opened it. It read:

Dear Mia,

You probably know I'm returning already. I hope you're doing good in school and the blokes aren't giving you too much trouble. Take care of them, they can be dumbarses.

I'll see you soon,

Padfoot.

"Who's it from?" Ron asked Hermione. The latter put the letter in her robes and grinned.

"Lynch," she lied, making them scoff and go back to their talk. 

Hermione wasn't sure why she didn't tell them she had been writing Sirius. She also didn't know why the latter wrote to her, but she liked it. He was a father figure to her and had become in such a short time. She just felt that Harry and Ron wouldn't understand, seeing as they didn't know that she technically already knew him, well all of them, from before.

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited their bags and books as they had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

"Follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. "First years in front . . . no pushing. . . . Miss Granger please take off your leather jacket," Minnie called out to Hermione, who, in turn, only grinned and gave her thumbs up pretending not to have heard.

Hermione was standing next to Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean, and, with much pleading, had convinced Dean to let her sit on his shoulders so she could see better.

"Nearly six," said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"Air and, Water," said Hermione.

"How, then? Broomsticks?" Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.

"Horses," Hermione said.

"How'd you know, Mione?" Seamus asked looking up at her and she only shrugged. 

She did notice, though, how Seamus's eyes stopped on Dean for a second longer and she grinned knowingly—she always had a feeling they would be great together, but she didn't actually know they had feelings for each other.

They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quiet as usual.

And then Dumbledore called out from the back row where he stood with the other teachers —

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.

"There!" yelled the sixth year, pointing over the forest.

Something large was hurtling across the deep blue sky toward the castle, growing larger all the time.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid. . . . it's a flying house!" said Dennis Creevey.

"Don't be morons. . . . It's a carriage," Hermione said.

As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed—then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump back onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery-red eyes.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerged from the inside of the carriage—a shoe the size of a child's sled—followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman ever seen. The size of the carriage, and the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman—Hermione didn't need to.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," said Madame Maxime in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," said Dumbledore.

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

About a dozen boys and girls, all, by the look of them, in their late teens, had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. They were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.

" 'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm-up, I think," said Madame Maxime. "But ze 'orses—"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other—er—charges."

"Skrewts," Ron muttered to Harry, grinning.

"My steeds require—er—forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong. . . ."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," said Dumbledore, also bowing.

"Come," said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Dean to address Harry and Ron.

"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," said Harry. "That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?"

"Maybe they've escaped," said Ron hopefully, and Hermione grimaced.

They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky.

For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then—

"Can you hear something?" said Ron suddenly.

Aloud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed. . . .

"The lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water—except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks — and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor. . . .
What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool . . . and then they saw the rigging. . . .

"It's a mast!" Harry said to Ron and Hermione.

"Ahoy, Captain!" Hermione grinned and Seamus, Dean, and Harry laughed as Ron frowned (guess he didn't know about pirates.).

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle . . . but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the entrance hall, their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Hermione noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "How good it is to be here, how good. . . . Viktor, come along, into the warmth . . . you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold. . . ."

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, they caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. Harry didn't need the shove on her knee that Ron gave her, almost making Dean stumble. She knew who he was.

"Harry, Mione—it's Krum!"

"What's with you and Krum?" Hermione muttered as she got off of Dean's shoulders.

"I don't believe it!" Ron said, ignoring Hermione, in a stunned voice, as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. "Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!"

"He's only a Quidditch Player, Lynch is much better," said Hermione.

"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron said, looking at her as though he couldn't believe his ears.

"Hermione—he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

Hermione grabbed onto Dean's arms as they started making their way to the Entrance Hall and pushed him back, away from the others.

"What's wrong, Mione?" Dean asked her.

"Well, I was just thinking about what's going on with you and the Seamus," Hermione said with a wide smile up at the wizard, who was now blushing furiously, "You see, I may be oblivious and have my head in the clouds most of the time, but, I can clearly see when two of my closest mates are falling for each other."

"We're not falling for each other, Mimi," Dean chuckled and Hermione gasped at the nickname.

"Yes you are, Dinny," Hermione said narrowing her eyes.

"We only kiss—aaa, I wasn't supposed to say that," Dean mumbled as Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

"WHAT?!" she shrieked and then noticed they had just entered the Great Hall. 

Everyone went silent at the girl's screech, looking at their entrance. And as Dean went red Hermione only grinned at the attention. 

"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT, FOREIGNERS AND LOCALS?" she shouted and everyone turned around, some people stifling laughter, while others ignored or rolled their eyes. 

"We will finish this talk later, Daniel!" Hermione hissed at Dean, who laughed as they sat down at the Gryffindor table next to their friends.

"Now that Miss. Granger has kindly introduced the school. . . . 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 of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"Get a new jacket and hot chocolate and you'll be fine!" Hermione whispered waving the girl off.

"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!"

"What's that?" said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," said Hermione remembering the word from the book.

"Bless you," said Ron.

"It's French, you moron," said Hermione, "Mom made me try it last year. I can still feel it in my mouth. But! That's my taste, you could like it."

"I'll take your word for it," said Ron, helping himself to black pudding.

The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep bloodred.

Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Harry, Ron, and Hermione with a very heavily bandaged hand.

"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called.

"Thrivin'," Hagrid called back happily.

"Yeah, I'll just bet they are," said Ron quietly. "Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers."

At that moment, a voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth.

Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.

"Yeah, have it," said Harry, pushing the dish toward the girl.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."

"Thank you. You are thee girl 'oo suggested a jacket and screamed, were you not?" Fleur asked Hermione who looked at her and grinned.

"Oh yeah," Hermione grinned, "I'm Hermione Granger, a pleasure to meet you."

"Fleur Delacour." The blonde girl said, "I will be seeing you around?"

"Of course, flower." Hermione grinned and Fleur laughed, picked up the dish, and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Harry started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.

"She's a veela!" he said hoarsely to Harry.

"Probably," said Hermione off-handily as she looked around to see many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron

"They don't make them like that at Hogwarts," Ron muttered and Hermione gasped.

"They make them okay at Hogwarts," said Harry without thinking. 

"You two can kindly go fuck yourselves. We have the most beautiful girls at Hogwarts, dipshits," Hermione scoffed and high-fived Angelina Johnson who was sitting next to Seamus—who was next to Hermione. "By the way, Angie, how 'bout we go flying on Sunday, we haven't talked in ages!" Hermione whispered to the girl.

"I was thinking of going, too. Say eleven?" Angelina asked.

"Make it two in the afternoon," Hermione nodded and Angie laughed and gave her a thumbs up.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Hermione felt a slight thrill of excitement and nerves, she knew what was coming. Several seats down from them, Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, 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—"

"— 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"—there was a smattering of polite 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, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. Hermione did not clap for either, she didn't like them.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore 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—their daring—their powers of deduction—and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

"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."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the 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," said Dumbledore, "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. Once 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."

Instead of going up to the dormitory with Ron, Harry, and the twins, Hermione decided to go with Angelina and her friends—Seamus and Deam were God knows where, doing God knows what. She immediately went up to her room and fell asleep, not wanting to think of what would happen this year and how fucking complicated things were going to get.

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