Ezra Potter the cousin of the chosen one. The lover of Charlie Weasley. His life felt complete, but things quickly change as the Trizwizards Tournament goes very wrong.
Love is lost and new ones are found.
Ezra Potter will fight for those he cares...
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Few words.
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Nobodies POV
Bewitched by Madame Maxime, Hagrid stares down the Tall Table to where she sits...and absently spears Professor Flitwick' s hand with his fork, Karkaroff eyes Crouch darkly, then turns, sees that Snape is watching him. Smiling thinly, Karkaroff ti is goblet.
Ezra yawns, completely bored and exhausted. Hermione smiles when she feels Ezra lean his head on her shoulder.
Fred eyes him from the corner of his eye, just for a brief moment. Ezra looked so cute and small.
Harry on the other hand eyes the Slytherin table, where the Draco sits, laughing and smiling. "What are you staring at." Ezra whispers
Harry jumps and he glares at his cousin who only smirks and leans back into Hermione's arms. Ezra knew exactly who he was looking at but kept quiet.
Ron continues to stuff his face and stares at Krum, who sits with the Slytherins.
"Brilliant, isn't he?" Ron asks "He's eating." Hermione says "Why d'you suppose they've been put at the Slytherin table?" Harry asks "birds of a feather. Durmstrang puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts." Hermione says
Ezra makes a show to yawn in boredom, making Hermione roll her eyes, flicking his forehead. "Ow." Ezra whines.
Harry's eyes shift, he consider Igor.
Dumbledore rises, nods to the back of the hall, signaling Filch, who begins to limp forward with an old chest.
"I would like to say a few words before we bring in the casket." Dumbledore says "Casket. Did he say casket?" Neville ask
"Eternal glory. That is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to do so, that student must survive three tasks. Three very dangerous tasks." Dumbledore says
"Wicked." Fred and George say
"You see, the Triwizard Tournament has an unfortunate history of killing off its participants. 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 --" Dumbledore says
Crack!
A stitch of lightning flashes across the enchanted ceiling and the torches along the walls flicker, casting the hall into an eerie semi-darkness. The rear doors fly open and a man stands in dark silhouette, clad in a long black traveling cloak, clutching a staff. Lightning flashes again and Alastor Madeye Moody is revealed, all grizzled grey hair and scarred flesh.
As he limps forward, clonk! Clonk! All eyes shift to his wooden leg while the electric blue eye embedded in his skull scans the hall warily.
"Bloody hell. Thats Madeye Moody." Ron says "Alastor Moody? The Auror?" Hermione asks "Auror?" Dean ask
"He was a catcher. Half the cells in Azkaban are full thanks to him. He's supposed to be mad as a hatter these days though. Sees Death Eaters in his dustbins." Ezra says
Another bolt of lightning flashes. Annoyed, Moody points his wand to the ceiling and, casting a red jet of flames, calms the enchanted sky. Slowly, the torches regain their bloom.
Satisfied, Moody pockets his wand, brings out a flash and tips it to his lips. Harry watches every move, fascinated. "What's that he's drinking, d'you suppose?" Seamus asks "I don't think it's pumpkin juice." Ezra says
Moody and Dumbledore exchange whispers and a handshake, then Moody takes the one remaining seat at the Tall Table. The staff eye him in mute disbelief.
"Barty, as you were saying.." Dumbledore ask
Barty Crouch blinks, turns back to the stunned students. Consulting a parchment. "After due consideration, the Ministry has concluded that, for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen will be allowed to put forth their name for the Triwizard Tournament. This decision is final." Crouch says
"What?!" Fred exclaims "That's rubbish!" George yells
Ezra chuckles, leaning on his hand.
"Silence." Dumbledore says, Dumbledore says this so forcefully the result is absolute. "Thank you." Dumbledore says
Taking his wand, Dumbledore turns to the casket and gives it three taps. As the lid opens, he removes a wooden cup dancing with blue-white flames.
"The Goblet of Fire. Anybody wishing to submit themselves to the Tournament need only write their name upon a piece of parchment and drop it into the flames within the next twenty-four hours. Do not do so lightly. If chosen, there is no turning back. As of this moment...the Triwizard Tournament has begun." Dumbledore says
