Beginners: book 1, Goblet of Fire

The Four Champions

The next day speeds by in anticipation of the feast. We take an extra-long breakfast to watch the sixth and seventh years place their names in the blazing goblet of fire. There's quite a bit of commotion when Fred and George, armed with ageing potions, attempt to get past the age line. Now sporting magnificent beards, they trudge up to the infirmary with Lee, who's laughing so hard he stops many times up the marble staircase. I watch from the Gryffindor table as Luis, along with the rest of the Beauxbaton's students, drop their names into the flame, causing it to burn red for just a moment. On his way into breakfast, he winks at me, so fast you could miss it. I have to turn back to my sausages to hide the blush blooming on my cheeks. Hermione shoots eyes at me, obviously not having missed the wink. But I shake my head.

After we've stuffed ourselves with eggs, toast and sausage we head back to the common room to finish up some work, much to Ron's protest.

"Look how nice it is," he whines, "C'mon Hermione, let's go out to the lake."

"And let that Transfiguration essay write itself?" She humphs, "Balderdash."

When we have a few minutes alone to grab our books, she pulls me down onto her bed. "Tell me everything."

"There isn't much to tell," I say through a smile. "I was grabbing us drinks, he was grabbing his friends drinks, we chatted. That's it."

"He gorgeous," she swoons.

"And three years older than us," I add.

"Oh who cares about that, I'm happy for you."

"Hermione there's nothing there yet. We spoke for like 3 minutes we arent engaged," I say as she gets up. But she ignores me, humming as she grabs her essay and quill.

With Hermione's help, we finish up all our work, ready for the night ahead.

"Oh I do hope it's a Gryffindor," Hermione says as we wait for the feast to begin.

"Yeh, it'd be brilliant if Angelina got it," Harry says.

A bell tolls and everyone in the common room gets up excitedly. Seems like the whole house was waiting here, counting down the seconds until dinner.

The House-elves have pulled out all their stops, the tables sagging under the weight of dozens of dishes. We eat and gossip, Fred and George taking bets on who will get it. The head table has considerably more amount of seats, holding some men I recognize from the world cup. After what feels like hours of waiting, Dumbledore rises.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision, I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he indicates towards the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

All the lights in the hall go out, leaving only the blue from the goblet. Suddenly, it turns bright red, and a piece of paper shoots out, which Dumbledore catches.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he reads, the Durmstrang's all tense, "will be Viktor Krum."

Cheers erupt from the Slytherin table, nearly drowning out Ron saying, "no surprises there!" Victor stands, looking a little shaken, and heads to the door.

The clapping dies down, and the goblet turns red again, shooting out another piece of paper.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," I look over to Luis, who is gripping the hand of another student, his fingers crossed, "is Fleur Delacour!"

I watch the quick disappointment on his face, which quickly dissolves as a girl stands. He cheers along with some of the students, while others break into tears. Harry and Ron have a mini fit about how pretty the girl, Fleur, is, much to Hermione's dismay.