CHAPTER 367: THE CHAMPIONS

The Goblet of Fire burned in the center of the Great Hall, its strange blue flames dancing higher than the tallest wizard. The light shimmered across the ancient stone walls and threw shadows across the enchanted ceiling, which reflected the star-speckled sky of a crisp October night. The torches that lined the walls dimmed as if yielding to the Goblet’s strange magic, leaving the fire’s glow the brightest thing in the hall.

Every student sat stiff in their seat, eyes drawn to the cup as though it might choose them simply through a glance. Even the visiting delegations were quiet. The Beauxbatons girls sat together like statues, pale faces expectant and solemn, while the Durmstrang boys leaned forward at their table with tense, competitive hunger.

Dumbledore moved to stand beside the Goblet, his tall figure framed by its strange blue fire. His expression was grave, yet his eyes twinkled with that same unreadable amusement that never left them. He raised his hands, and the murmurs of the hall fell away at once.

"Well then," he said, his voice calm but carrying to every corner of the hall. "The time has come to see which students will represent their schools in this most ancient and dangerous of competitions. The Goblet of Fire will make its choice. Once a champion has been selected, that decision is final. Their duty is binding, and their courage will be tested."

A hush swept over the students, so heavy that Eira could hear the crackle of the Goblet’s flames. She sat at the Slytherin table, her silver-green tie gleaming in the dim firelight, her fork forgotten on her plate. Tracey leaned in so close her shoulder brushed against Eira’s arm.

"I swear if Gemma gets picked, I’ll scream," Tracey whispered, her voice almost lost in the silence.

Eira only smiled faintly, her eyes fixed on the Goblet.

A sudden hiss of sparks leapt into the air. The flames changed color, flickering from blue to white, then red, then gold. A thin scrap of parchment spat out of the fire, fluttering down through the air. Dumbledore caught it between two long fingers.

"The champion of Durmstrang," Dumbledore read in a deep voice that echoed in the enchanted ceiling, "is Viktor Krum."

The hall erupted. Cheers, whistles, and a pounding of fists on tables filled the space. The Durmstrang students leapt to their feet, slamming their hands on the wood and chanting Krum’s name. Their shipmates roared like a storm outside, their boots striking the floor in rhythm.

Krum rose slowly, not with arrogance but with the same brooding calm he carried everywhere. His face was unreadable as he walked up the central aisle, the firelight glinting off his sharp features. Girls all around the hall squealed, and several Ravenclaws actually clutched at one another, swooning.

"Oh Merlin, he is so handsome," whispered a Hufflepuff girl behind Eira, fanning herself with her hand.

Ron Weasley practically fell off his bench in his eagerness, his eyes wide as saucers. He jabbed Harry in the ribs with his elbow, grinning like mad. "See, Harry? I told you he’d be chosen! Who else could it be but Krum? He’s the best Seeker in the world—of course the Goblet would pick him! Just wait until I tell my brothers I was right all along!"

Harry gave a weak laugh. "Yeah, Ron, everyone can see."

Krum strode past them without a glance at the cheering crowd, vanishing through the side door where the champions would gather. His name still echoed from the Durmstrang table long after the Goblet had returned to its blue flame.

Moments later the fire hissed again. Another slip of parchment burst into the air. Dumbledore caught it with the same graceful ease.

"The champion of Hogwarts," he read, "is Cedric Diggory."

This time the Great Hall seemed to explode. The Hufflepuff table erupted so violently that several goblets of pumpkin juice toppled over and spilled across the floor. The students leapt onto their benches, waving their arms and chanting Cedric’s name with rhythmic pride.

"Cedric! Cedric! Cedric!" they roared, the sound rising like thunder.

Cedric rose at his table, his handsome face flushed with embarrassment as he smiled shyly. His friends clapped him on the back, one of them ruffling his hair until he ducked. Hufflepuff students surged forward to slap his hand as he passed.

"Go on, Cedric!" one girl shouted. "You’ll win it for us!"

"You’re the best of Hogwarts!" cried another boy.

Across the room, the Gryffindor table clapped, though the cheers were a touch forced. Angelina Johnson sat stiffly, her arms crossed, lips pressed thin. She had hoped—no, expected—that the Goblet might choose her.

"Don’t take it so hard, Angie," Alicia murmured, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "You’re still the best Chaser Hogwarts has."

"Yeah," Katie Bell added quickly. "Cedric’s good, but you’re just as worthy. Everyone knows it."

Angelina exhaled sharply through her nose, forcing herself to nod, though her eyes stayed locked on the Hufflepuff table where Cedric was basking in thunderous applause.

Fred and George, meanwhile, cupped their hands and bellowed.

"Cedric the Magnificent!" shouted George.

"Cedric the Superbly Shiny!" added Fred.

The Hufflepuffs erupted in boos.

"Shut it, Weasleys!" one girl cried. " I told you this morning that he’s ten times the wizard you’ll ever be!, and he proved it."

"Better looking, too!" another added, smirking.

A few Gryffindors shot back at once, voices sharp with rivalry.

"At least we don’t polish our badges every night like you lot!"

"Yeah, enjoy your one moment in the spotlight before Cedric trips over his own broom!"

The hall buzzed with jeers and laughter, the polite applause dissolving into open house rivalry.

Fred and George only laughed, high-fiving each other as if their heckling was a victory in itself. Angelina Johnson, looking at the reactions, rolled her eyes but clapped for Cedric.

Eira tilted her head slightly as she watched Cedric’s modest walk toward the Goblet. There was a quiet dignity to him that she respected, though her smile deepened when she saw Fleur’s eyes narrow faintly from across the room.