Chapter 249: The Fourth Champion

Harry sat there, realizing that everyone in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He froze, his mind blank. Surely, he must be dreaming. He must have misheard just now.

There was no applause. A buzz began to fill the hall, like angry bees buzzing. Some students even stood up to get a better look at Harry, who remained frozen in his seat, as if petrified.

Professor McGonagall stood up from the high table, quickly walking past other Professors, Bagman and Karkaroff, murmuring urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who listened intently, his brow furrowed.

Harry turned to look at Ron beside him. He saw the students behind them at the long Gryffindor table gaping at him.

"I didn't put my name in," Harry said bewilderedly. "You know I didn't."

They looked equally bewildered, staring at him dumbfoundedly.

At the high table, Dumbledore straightened up and nodded at Professor McGonagall.

"Harry Potter!" he called out loudly once more. "Harry! Come up here, please!"

"Go on," Ron urged quietly, nudging Harry gently.

Harry stood up, stepping on the hem of his robes and stumbling slightly. He walked down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. 

The path seemed unusually long, and the high table seemed perpetually out of reach. He could feel hundreds of eyes on him, each one feeling like a spotlight.

The buzz of discussion grew louder. It felt like an hour before he finally reached Dumbledore, feeling the gaze of every teacher on him.

"Well... into that chamber, Harry," Dumbledore said, his face without a smile. 

Then he turned to Alaric, "Alaric, you are our special guest and one of the judges. Please join us, we need your help."

Alaric walked over to the staff table and through the door, out of the Great Hall, finding himself in a small room with wizard portraits on both walls. In the fireplace opposite him, a fire burned brightly.

As he entered, the faces in the portraits all turned to look at him. 

He saw an old witch with a squashed face dart out of her frame and into the next one, where a wizard with a walrus mustache awaited. The old witch began to whisper in his ear.

Viktor Krum, Hermione Granger, and Fleur Delacour were gathered around the fireplace. 

When Alaric entered, Fleur and Hermione turned their heads, looking pleasantly surprised when they saw him.

"You're here, Mr. Judge," Fleur said, stepping forward to greet Alaric. "Honestly, did you secretly help your girlfriend? She's not even seventeen!"

Of course, this was all said in jest; she wasn't actually upset about Alaric helping Hermione.

"I certainly did not help her," Alaric shook his head. "She achieved this on her own."

"Hmm, you sound very proud of her," Fleur teased playfully. "Are you two already together?"

"N-no... no," Hermione's cheeks turned red at Fleur's teasing. She wasn't used to having her relationship with Alaric made so public. "We're... just friends."

"Just friends?" Fleur smirked mischievously. "Well then, I guess I won't hesitate to pursue him."

"No way!" Hermione was completely outmatched by Fleur in this regard, blushing deeply.

"Alright, Fleur," Alaric chuckled helplessly. "Stop teasing poor Hermione. I'm here for something serious." 

'Please don't call me 'poor Hermione'!'

"Alright, alright, I'll stop. You're really biased, you know," Fleur stopped teasing Hermione and turned to ask, "Are they calling us back to the Great Hall?"

She thought he had come in to relay a message.

However, Alaric hadn't started explaining what had just happened when another person barged into the room, Harry Potter.

A flurry of footsteps followed, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him forward.

"This is incredible!" He squeezed Harry's arm, muttering, "Absolutely incredible! Gentlemen... ladies," he turned to the other three, "allow me to introduce — as unbelievable as it sounds — the fourth champion of the Triwizard Tournament!"

Viktor Krum straightened up, looking Harry up and down, his face stern and unreadable. 

Hermione looked bewildered. She glanced at Bagman, then at Harry, sure she must have misheard Bagman's words. 

Fleur tossed her hair and smiled, saying, "Oh, what a funny joke, Mr. Bagman."

"A joke?" Bagman repeated, puzzled. "No, no, it's not! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Krum's eyebrows furrowed slightly. Hermione and Fleur frowned and looked at Alaric.

Alaric nodded to confirm.

"But that's clearly a mistake," Fleur said proudly to Bagman. "Hogwarts already has a champion, Miss Granger, doesn't it?"

"Yes... it's certainly surprising," Bagman rubbed his smooth chin, smiling down at Harry.

"But you know, the selection is determined by the Goblet of Fire, and since his name came out of it... I mean, I think once it's come this far, there's no backing out... 

The rules are quite clear, you must abide by them... Harry must do his utmost —"

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people crowded in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madam Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. 

In the neighboring hall, hundreds of students murmured and buzzed.

Madam Maxime stood tall and erect. 

Her beautiful head brushed against the branched chandelier full of candles hanging from the ceiling, her large bosom heaving beneath her black satin dress.

"What is the meaning of this, Dumbledore?" she said haughtily.

"I would like to know that too, Dumbledore," Professor Karkaroff said — his face wore a cold, icy smile, his blue eyes icy as ice cubes.

"Does Hogwarts have two champions? I don't remember anyone telling me that the host school can have two champions — have I not read those statutes carefully enough?"

He laughed shortly, a sound that was hard to hear.

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