Forsaken Bloodlines {HP x GOT}

Chapter 4.6: The Triwizard Tournament

Everyone feasted in the Great Hall, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement and anticipation. The tables were laden with an array of dishes, from roasted meats and vegetables to enchanted desserts that sparkled and fizzed. Lyanna sat among her fellow Ravenclaws, her gaze occasionally drifting to the Tall Table where the staff and special guests were seated.

Hagrid, bewitched by Madame Maxime's presence, absently speared Professor Flitwick's hand with his fork. A ripple of laughter spread through the students who witnessed the incident, Lyanna chuckling softly herself.

As she continued to observe, she noticed Karkaroff eyeing Crouch darkly before turning his gaze to Snape, who was watching him with an inscrutable expression. Karkaroff raised his goblet, a thin smile playing on his lips. Something had always felt off to Lyanna about the business dealings between Karkaroff and her father. Whenever she questioned her mother about it, she was dismissed and told not to think much of it.

Shaking off her thoughts, she glanced over at Harry, who was staring intently at the Ravenclaw table. Much to Lyanna's dismay, the Beauxbatons girls, including Fleur Delacour, were seated there, and Fleur was in deep conversation with Cho Chang. Lyanna wondered if Harry was attracted to Fleur, but another thought crossed her mind—perhaps it was Cho who had caught his eye. She shook her head, trying to dismiss the notion.

Nearby, Ron was stuffing his face and staring at Viktor Krum, who was seated with the Slytherins.

"Brilliant, isn't he?" Ron said, his mouth full of food.

"He's eating," Hermione replied, her tone exasperated.

Lyanna couldn't help but tease, "I think you're in love, Ron."

Harry, curious, asked, "Why do you suppose they've been put at the Slytherin table?"

Hermione answered, "Birds of a feather. Durmstrang puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts."

Lyanna nodded in agreement. "They do love their Dark Magic."

Hoping to bring Ron back to reality, Lyanna's comment seemed to do the trick, and he stopped daydreaming about Viktor. Harry's eyes shifted, considering Karkaroff with a new suspicion.

Dumbledore rose from his seat and nodded to the back of the Hall. Filch began to limp forward, carrying an old chest.

"I would like to say a few words before we bring in the casket," Dumbledore announced.

Neville, confused, muttered, "Casket? Did he say casket?"

"Eternal glory," Dumbledore continued. "That is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to do so, the student must survive three tasks. Three very dangerous tasks."

"Wicked," Fred and George Weasley said in unison.

"You see, the Triwizard Tournament has an unfortunate history of killing off its participants," Dumbledore explained. "For this reason, the Ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain, we have the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Mr. Bartemius Crouch."

Just then, there was a sudden crack of thunder, and a flash of lightning streaked across the enchanted ceiling. The torches along the walls flickered, casting the Hall into an eerie semi-darkness. The rear doors flew open, and a man stood in the dark silhouette, clad in a long black traveling cloak and clutching a staff.

As another bolt of lightning flashed, Alastor Moody was revealed. His grizzled grey hair and scarred flesh made him a formidable sight. He limped forward, his wooden leg thudding against the stone floor, while his electric blue eye scanned the Hall warily.