"Oi Crouch!" George Weasley yells at me from the Gryffindor table to the Ravenclaw table, where I am currently reading a book titled: One Hundred Magical Ways Of Revenge
I currently have an entire journal filled with names of people I need to get revenge on. Maybe I should add George to the list....
I groan, and look up from my book as the entire Great Hall bursts into laughter. Today was the day of the Champion selection, and we are just waiting for my father, Dumbledore, and my father's assistant, Weatherbee (I'm sure that isn't his real name, but that's the only name father ever address's him with) to come into the hall.
Leave it to Bartemius Crouch to leave three schools waiting.
"Crouch! Can I come sit by you?" George screams even louder that before. I smack my face with the palm of my hand. But, in his mind, that's a welcome invitation to sit by me, as the next thing I see is his flaming red hair next to me.
"I was going to say no, but it appears you don't care of my opinion." I stated. George shrugs. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, Dumbledore speaks.
"And now for the champion selection!" He exclaims. All our attention goes to the cup. The blue flames turned red, before spewing out a piece of parchment, which Dumbledore caught.
"The Beauxbatons champion is....Fleur Delacour!" A very pretty girl from a couple rows down stands up. She has silvery blonde hair that seems to shine, even though the Great Hall is rather dark at the moment. She walks up confidently to Dumbledore, shakes his hand, and walks into a door near the end of the hall. So far, so good. At the moment, I'm rooting for her.
We wait for a couple seconds, before the goblet spits out another champions name.
"The Durmstrang champion is...Viktor Krum!" Dumbledore announces. I groan loudly as everyone around me cheers. A Quidditch player. It had to be a Quidditch player. I'm still going for Fleur at the moment.
"I take it you don't like Krum." George comments. "Neither do I. I'm a Irish fan."
I roll my eyes, and focus my attention back at Dumbledore. Of course he would like the Irish. He is probably of an Irish origin, with that red hair.
The Goblet of Fire throws out one last piece of parchment.
"The Hogwarts champion is....Cedric Diggory!" If I thought Viktor was bad, I was dead wrong. Cedric Diggory is the worlds biggest idiot.
No joke.
"Great!" Dumbledore concludes. "We have our three....." He turns around as the goblet turns red once more, and spits out another name.
What's going on? Another champion? That's ridiculous!
George grabs my hand, as the parchment falls into Dumbledore's wrinkled hand. I quickly wiggle out of his grip, blushing. Wait...I can't be blushing! Not in front of a Weaslebee! That's stupid. Plus, a Crouch never blushes. They don't get embarrassed.
"Harry Potter." Dumbledore announces calmly. WHAT? There HAS to be a mistake! Whispers fill the Great Hall. I whip out my notebook, and write:
"Harry Potter." Albus Dumbledore, headmaster. Circumstance: Harry Potter was just drawn as a forth trip-wizard champion, even though he is underage. Still waiting for further details.
I stop writing just in time to see Harry Potters black hair disappear through a door.
Of course this would happen to Harry Potter. He always gets ALL the attention.
That's just how it is.
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What Goes Up, Must Come Down #Wattys2016
FanfictionYeah sure, Cass was Cass. She was cruel. Mean. Sadistic. A Crouch by heart. Then George Weasley comes around. And with a teacher that seems to be stalking her, a missing father, and an annoying nickname, Cass's view on the world might be altered fo...
