Dark Pasts { A Harry Potter Story }

Chapter 9- The Goblet of Fire

"I don't believe it!" Ron exclaimed as we filed back up the steps behind the Durmstrang students. "Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!"

"For heaven's sake, Ron," Hermione said. "He's only a Quidditch player."

"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron said, sounding scandalized.

"Hermione," I said, shaking my head, "he's one of the best seekers in the world!"

"The best seeker!" Ron interjected.

"I had no idea he was still at school," I said.

"Yeah, he's only like 18 or something," Ron said.

As we crossed the entrance hall and headed for the Great Hall, we saw many students, including Lee Jordan jumping up and down to get a better look at Krum. Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets —

"Oh, I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me — "

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

"Really," Hermione scoffed, making me chuckle.

"I wouldn't mind getting his autograph," I admitted.

"I'm definitely getting it if I can," Ron said excitedly. "Harry, have you got a quill?"

"Nope, they're all upstairs in my bag," Harry said.

We took our places at the Gryffindor table. Ron and I sat facing the doorway to catch another glimpse of Krum, while Harry and Hermione sat in front of us, looking unbothered.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and — most particularly — guests," he said, beaming at the crowded hall. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," he went on. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

The plates in front of us filled with food as usual.

"What's that?" Ron asked, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," Hermione.

"Bless you."

I chuckled as I helped myself to shepherd's pie.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's French," she said. "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"I'll take your word for it," Ron said, helping himself to black pudding.

At that moment, one of the girls from Beauxbatons appeared beside us. "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

Ron went completely red, causing me to shake my head before handing her the dish.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?" she asked.

"Yeah, it was delicious," Ron said breathlessly even though he had not taken a single bite of it.

Harry laughed at Ron's expression, which seemed to pull Ron out of his trance.

"She's a veela!" Ron said.

"Of course she isn't!" Hermione said tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"