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"Gramen, it's Krum! Viktor Krum." Blair gushed as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. 

In front of her, she could hear Ron as well. "Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!" 

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said Hermione. 

They all stopped walking. Blair looked at Hermione with shock. "O-Only a Quidditch player? Mione, he's one of the best and youngest seekers in the world!" Hermione just rolled her eyes as they all went for the Great Hall.

Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked — "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?" 

"Really," Hermione said loftily as they passed the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick. 

"I'm getting his autograph if I can," said Ron. "You haven't got a quill, have you, Blair?" 

Blair sadly shook her head. "Nope, I left my bag."

The Prancers and the Golden Trio walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Ron and Blair fought to sit on the side facing the doorway, because Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around it, apparently unsure about where they should sit, but Ron beat Blair, who pouted and sat beside Dean.

The students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads. 

"It's not that cold," said Hermione defensively. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?" 

A student from Beauxbatons passed in front of Blair. Blair frowned at the obvious shivering of the girl. "Hey wait!" 

The girl looked at her surprised but stopped as Blair ran over to her.

Most people in the hall stopped to watch the interaction. After all, it was not everyday that you would see Blair Wood, running after a girl who wasn't Hermione Granger. Blair took off her scarf and cloak and gave it to the girl. "Keep it. I have lots." 

The girl blushed and bowed to her before going back to the Ravenclaw table. People stared at Blair with surprise, but surprisingly, Hermione was glaring at her.

"Blimey, Caelum. You are quite the ladies' woman, eh? You've got to teach me sometime." Neville looked at her with awe in his eyes. 

Blair just rolled her eyes before turning to Hermione with worry. "Are you alright, Mione?" 

Hermione's eyes hardened even more as she clenched her teeth. "Fine. Why do you ask?" 

Blair's eyes widened when Hermione clutched the knife in her hand. "N-nothing." 

Blair was lost in her thoughts as she thought of a reason why Hermione was mad at her. Did she smell bad? Did she forget to spray her perfume? Did they have a date and Blair forgot? She was broken out of her thoughts when Ron spoke up.

"Over here! Come and sit over here!" Ron suddenly hissed. "Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space —" 

"What?" 

"Too late," said Ron bitterly. Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Blair rolled her eyes. She could see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looking very smug about this. As she watched, Malfoy bent forward to speak to Krum.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," said Ron scathingly. "I bet Krum can see right through him, though... bet he gets people fawning over him all the time. Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry. I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on the camp bed." 

"Hey, you can't take the camp bed. Where will I sleep then?" Blair protested before turning to Hermione and smiling at her. "If Krum sleeps in their room, can I sleep beside you, Granger?" 

Hermione blushed again before snorting. "Good luck with that, Wood." Blair beamed at her answer.

"They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot," said Harry. The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion. Blair was surprised to see that he added four chairs, two on either side of Dumbledore's. It seemed that Harry noticed it too. 

"But there are only two extra people," Harry said. "Why's Filch putting out four chairs, who else is coming?"

"Eh?" said Ron vaguely. He was still staring avidly at Krum. 

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. 

When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side.

Dumbledore remained standing, and a 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."

"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!" He sat down, and Blair saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation. 

The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than Blair had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

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

"Bouillabaisse," said Hermione, seemingly not mad at Blair anymore. 

"Bless you," said Ron. 

"It's French," said Hermione, "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice." 

"You should know, Ron. Hermione has brilliant taste," said Blair, winking at Hermione before helping herself to black pudding. 

Hermione bit her lip to prevent a smile coming onto her face and remembered that she was mad at Blair. Then, she frowned. Why would she be mad if Blair would run after another girl who wasn't her if she didn't like Blair? Hermione just shook her head and continued eating.

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 blood red.

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 Blair, 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." 

Blair slapped him on the shoulder before smiling at Hagrid. "I'll help out next time, Hagrid." Hagrid sent her a grateful smile as he conversed with the other teachers.

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

It was the girl from Beauxbatons who Blair gave her cloak and scarf to. 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, but the girl wasn't even looking at him. She was looking at Blair to Hermione's annoyance.

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

"You 'ave finished wiz it?" 

Blair nodded. "Yeah, it was excellent." 

The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table after smiling at Blair. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Harry and Blair started to laugh. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.

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

"Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!" 

But she wasn't entirely right about that. As the girl crossed the Hall, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.

"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!" 

"They make them okay at Hogwarts," said Harry without thinking, staring at Cho, who happened to be sitting only a few places away from the girl with the silvery hair. 

"They make them more than okay at Hogwarts." Blair said while looking at Hermione.

"When you've both put your eyes back in," said Hermione briskly while fighting off her smile, "you'll be able to see who's just arrived." She was pointing up at the staff table. 

The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime.

"What are they doing here?" said Blair in surprise.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Hermione. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start." 

When the second course arrived they noticed a number of unfamiliar desserts too. Blair laughed loudly when Ron moved a French dessert carefully a few inches to his right, so that it would be clearly visible from the Ravenclaw table. The girl who looked like a veela appeared to have eaten enough, however, and did not come over to get it.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Blair felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. Blair winked at Fred and George, who were several seats down from them, 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 —"

"The what?" Harry muttered. 

Blair's eyes widened. Wasn't that the box where Muggles put their dead? 

"— 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. Blair glanced at Fred and George, who looked furious and happy at the sight of Bagman.

"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. Blair listened in as well in her hopes to help out Fred and George. 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."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing. 

"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."

"An Age Line!" Fred said, his eyes glinting, as he and George met up with Blair as they all made their way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance hall. 

George slung an arm around Blair's shoulder. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing — it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," said Hermione, "we just haven't learned enough..." 

"Speak for yourself," said George shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry, Blair?" The two of them shared glances. They didn't want to risk Dumbledore's wrath.

Blair bid them all farewell as she caught up with Fred and George, planning to sleep in their dormitory for the night to take care of the Aging Potion. She warned them one last time, but nothing could change their minds, and so, Blair stayed up the whole night, talking to the twins and Lee about Hermione Granger and how she was finally warming up to Blair while finishing the potion.

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When Harry, Ron and Hermione went down into the entrance hall, they saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

"Anyone put their name in yet?" Ron asked a third-year girl eagerly. 

"All the Durmstrang lot," she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet." 

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Harry. "I would've if it had been me... wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?"

Someone laughed behind the Golden Trio. Turning, they saw Blair, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, the three boys looking extremely excited and Blair looking exhausted. 

"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Just taken it."

"What?" said Ron. 

"The Aging Potion, dung brains. Blair finally did it," said Fred. 

"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the four of us if one of us wins," said Lee, grinning broadly. 

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," said Hermione warningly "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this." 

Blair yawned and moved to stand beside Hermione. "Believe me, I warned them. Couldn't change their minds."

Fred, George, and Lee ignored them. "Ready?" Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then — I'll go first —" 

Blair watched, amused, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley — Hogwarts. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a split second, Blair looked surprised and thought it had worked — George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after Fred — but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards. 

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "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."

Fred and George ruffled Blair's hair on their way before they set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter, and Harry, Blair, Ron, and Hermione, also chortling, went in to breakfast.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Blair led the way over to Neville, Dean and Seamus, who were discussing those Hogwarts students of seventeen or over who might be entering.

"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," Dean told Blair. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth." 

Blair, who had played Quidditch against Warrington, shook her head in disgust. "We can't have a cheat for a champion." 

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory," said Seamus contemptuously. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks." 

Blair remembered the conversation she overhead the other day and furrowed her eyebrows at the thought of someone else winning Hermione's heart. 

"Listen!" said Hermione suddenly.

People were cheering out in the entrance hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. Angelina came over to them, sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"Godric, Angelina. Color me impressed." Blair clapped for her. 

Angelina giggled at the Chaser. "Thank you, Blair. I had my birthday last week." 

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!" 

"Thanks, Hermione," said Angelina, smiling at her.

"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl heavily at him. 

Blair crossed her arms. She could care less about Diggory being the champion, she just didn't like how Hermione thought of him as attractive. Blair was tempted to ask the Prancers that moment how she looked but waited until they would go to their dorm. The four of them finished breakfast and went back to the dorm.

As they arrived at the dorm, Blair started fuming at the thought of Hermione liking Diggory. "You heard her talk about him, did you? 'He's a really good student, and he's a prefect.'" Blair crossed her arms as her friends looked at her, amused. 

Neville let out a sigh. "Maybe, she just thought that he was nice, Caelum?"

Blair furrowed her eyebrows. "But is he handsome? Surely, I'm more handsome than Diggory, right?"

Dean let out a sigh and made Blair sit down. "Yes, Caelum. You are much more attractive than Diggory. Now, calm down, and let's play Exploding Snap, ey?" 

"Yes, I know I'm quite handsome myself, but that's not the problem, Tranqs! And my lovely Granger thinks that he's handsome, a prefect and a good student, but it doesn't mean he-" 

"Silencio." Seamus pocketed his wand as they took out the Exploding Snap and started playing.

After a few minutes, when they noticed Blair calm down, they took off the Silencing Spell. Blair let out a sigh before scowling. "Ignis, that bloody Diggory-"

"Let it go, Caelum." Seamus moaned and lay down on his bed. He exchanged glances with Dean and Neville. It was going to be a long afternoon.

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