From a Cradle to a Grave

Chapter 12

Hope's Pov

"Are you seriously going to bed right away again? Weasley, it's nine o' clock," Pansy scowls.

"I hadn't realize you enjoyed my company so much, Parkinson," I tell her, before climbing up the stairs to our dorm room.

I shut the curtains on my bed and bring out the stack of notes that I wrote during my private sessions with Professor Mikaelson this week. We've covered a lot in the past month, including all sorts of hexes and jinxes that can be performed using the type of magic that she and I wield.

"Phesmatos Incendia," I say, lighting up a ball of fire in my hand so that I can read better in such a dark environment.

We've recently progressed from simple spells to a technique of magic called 'channeling'. She's been having me focus on channeling the magic in my blood, which, for some reason, is fused with incredibly powerful ancient magic.

The next day passes by without incident. That is, if you don't count my two idiotic twin brothers deciding to take a swing of Aging Potion to get past the Age Line that Dumbledore drew around the Goblet of Fire. They end up with matching beards on their faces, which earns them a laugh from everyone.

And finally, the moment that everyone has been waiting for. The time has come for the goblet to announce the three champions who will be taking part in the Triwizard Tournament.

"The champion for Durmstrang," Dumbledore says, when he catches the piece of parchment that flies out of the goblet, "Will be Viktor Krum."

No surprise there.

Krum rises from the chair a few seats away from me, and disappears through the door of the chamber next to the staff table.

"The champion of the Beauxbatons Academy... Is Fleur Delacour!"

The Hogwarts and Durmstrang students give a polite round of applause, while the Beauxbaton students begin to bawl their eyes out at having not been chosen.

A beautiful blonde girl makes her way up to the front of the hall, and takes a graceful bow. She follows in Krum's path, and walks into the room that he went into.

"The Hogwarts champion... Is Cedric Diggory!"

Diggory? The stupid Hufflepuff seeker?

Cheers and hollers explode from the table where the Hufflepuffs sit. So many of his friends walk up to clap him on the back that Cedirc only barely manages to pull away.

"Excellent," Dumbledore calls happily, when the roars finally die down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering you champion on, you will contribute in a very real-"

Dumbledore suddenly stops speaking. Everyone turns to see what it is that has gotten him so shocked.

The fire in the goblet has turned red again. Sparks are flying out of it... A long flame shoots into the air, and with it, another piece of parchment flies out.

Automatically, Dumbledore reaches out and seizes the little slip of paper. He holds it out, and stares at the name written upon it. There's a long pause, during which all the students stare at him with silent, shocked expressions.

And finally, Dumbledore clears his throat and reads out the name.

"Hope Weasley."