A Planned Participation

I don't believe it!" Ron said, in a stunned voice, as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. "Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!"

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

"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron said, looking at her as though he couldn't believe his ears. "Hermione — he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

I was kind of muted from all of the buzz, trying my best to look down and gain reign over my mind. With a final herculean effort, I clamped down on my Occlumency shields.

As we recrossed the entrance hall with the rest of the Hogwarts students heading for the Great Hall, I saw Lee Jordan jumping up and down on the soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of Krum's head. Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked —

"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 said loftily as we passed the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick.

"I'm getting his autograph if I can," said Ron. "You haven't got a quill, have you, Harry?"

"Nope, but I can always try conjuring one?" I suggested.

We walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Ron took care to sit on the side facing the doorway, because Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around it, apparently unsure about where they should sit. The students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

'Three champions,' I thought. Fleur Delacour was a surety… But who else from Beauxbaton would be chosen? My gaze wandered, taking in the appearance of about 4 dozen Beauxbaton students who were sitting at the Ravenclaw table. SInce students of any age could enter, I realized that Beauxbaton had brought students all the way from third to seventh year.

"It's not that cold," said Hermione defensively. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?"

"Well, I don't think Beauxbaton is located around mountains," I defended lightly. "You know, like Hogwarts or Durmstrang."

"Over here! Come and sit over here!" Ron hissed. "Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space —"

"What?" Hermione said.

"Too late," said Ron bitterly. The Durmstrang students had decided to settle themselves at the Slytherin table.

Huh, this was kind of a poetic coincidence. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryfindor, and Ravenclaw… One Champion from each table… I hadn't noticed that last time. This time, it would probably be a little different with Hufflepuff and Gryffindor having only one champion. I as most sure that only me and Cedric would be chosen from our houses

I had little idea regarding who would be the third champion from Hogwarts… But most of my guesses were Slytherins. Say whatever you want about them, but Slytherin produces some darn great witches and wizards. My bet would probably be on Gemma Farley. As for who would be the other Beauxbaton and Durmstrang champions? I had no idea. Only Krum and Fleur were 100% clear.

"Well, at least the Durmstrang students look happier," Hermione noted.

The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion. Harry was surprised to see that he added four chairs, two on either side of Dumbledore's.

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.

When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

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

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh. Durmstrang students though looked more eager.

I heard Hermione mutter something about the Beauxbaton girl. I couldn't understand her reaction to Beauxbaton students. It was present last time too. Why was this resentment there? Like, I get it that they are French and as Brits it's kind of our instinctual reaction… But still! This was uncharacteristic of Hermione.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!" He sat down, and Harry saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation.

The plates in front of us were filled with food as usual. The house elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of us, more than most had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

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

"Bouillabaisse," said Hermione.

"Bless you," said Ron.

"It's French," said Hermione, "I had it on holiday last summer. It's very nice."

The Great Hall seemed much more crowded than usual. This was a given considering that more than hundred foreign delegates were also housing. The place was positively buzzing with sounds of chattering and murmuring. Durmstrang students had removed their cloaks and were revealed to be wearing robes of deep blood-red.

Hagrid slid into the Hall, having taken care of the Abraxans. He looked a little ragged, but his smile was blinding. He came to us and we had some idle talk about the only topic we had concerning him… How were the Skrewts coming along? Not a very bright topic, but still enough to pass a conversation.

It happened before I could process it. My mental shields tightened against the unintentional probe of the veela allure. At that moment, a voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

It was the girl from Beauxbatons who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth. She was without a single ounce of doubt, Fleur Delacour.

Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise. I internally grimaced.

"Yeah, have it," I said with a neutral tone, almost a pleasant and formal one. My eye met hers and pushed the dish toward her.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."

She picked up the dish, not even acknowledging Ron's words, gave me a small nod and then started walking back towards the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before.I looked at Ron and started laughing. The sound seemed to jog Ron back to his senses.

"She's a veela!" he said hoarsely.

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

That wasn't entirely true. As Fleur walked, many heads turned. A light muttering among the crowd spreaded. Many even became momentarily speechless like Ron.

"At least not a full veela," I said, "They can't channel magic with wands."

"How do you know that?" Hermione asked.

"I may have done some reading on veela and leprechaun after the world cup…"

She accepted my answer, much to my relief.

"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" said Ron, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

I didn't look, instead taking a sip of my pumpkin juice.

"When you've put your eyes back in," said Hermione briskly to Ron, "you'll be able to see who's just arrived." She was pointing up at the staff table.

The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime.

"What are they doing here?" said Ron in surprise.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Hermione. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now.

"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket —"

"— just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" — there was a smattering of polite applause — "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways . . . their magical prowess — their daring — their powers of deduction — and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions from each school will compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," said Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the students it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete."

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

"We will enter our names!" Fred said, both twins' eyes glinting, as we walked towards the Gryfindor common room.

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," said Hermione, "we just haven't learned enough . . ."

"Speak for yourself," said George shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry?"

"I am… considering," I said carefully, bracing myself as I felt Hermione's glare on me.

"Where is he?" said Ron, who wasn't listening to a word of this conversation, but looking through the crowd to see what had become of Krum. "Dumbledore didn't say where the Durmstrang people were sleeping, did he?"

Ron's question was immediately answered as Karkaroff instructed his students back to ship. He deliberately paid extra attention to Krum, as if flaunting him to everyone. A grand show of superiority on his part. Though Krum looked a little uncomfortable with it all.

We started walking towards the Great Hall's exit. I reached for the handle's door and as I started opening it, I realized that Karkaroff had reached for it too. I effortlessly sidestepped and opened the door, letting him and his students go first— a small effort at cooperation, what this tournament was for.

"Thank you," said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at him. And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to me and stared at me as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up my face and fixed upon my scar. Out of the corner of his eye, I saw comprehension dawn on a few of their faces. A boy with food all down his front nudged the girl next to him and pointed openly at my forehead.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," said a growling voice from behind them.

Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang headmaster. The color drained from Karkaroff's face. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over him.

"You!" he said, staring at Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him.

"Me," said Moody grimly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."

It was true; half the students in the Hall were now waiting behind them, looking over one another's shoulders to see what was causing the holdup. Without another word, Karkaroff swept his students away with him. Moody watched him until he was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face.

That night, I sneaked out of my dormitory at night, under my cloak. I slowly opened the dorm's door, which moved with a creak. Taking a last look back to make sure everyone was asleep, I descended to the common room. I snuck out of the portrait hole that led to Gryfindor common room.

I quickly made my way down the Moving Staircase and headed for the Great Hall.

Suddenly with a jerk, I stepped aside, pinning my back to the wall, as I felt some magical signatures enter the place. One after another, many students entered the hall. They all were in their Durmstrang's heavy fur coats and dark red and black robes. Nearly fifty delegates had arrived in the evening, but here I could only see about thirty.

One by one, each of them entered their name in the Goblet of Fire. They entered their name and exited the Hall, until none remained. Krum was the last to enter his name.

With a small sigh, I removed the cloak. There were no more students near the hall, I could feel it. I made my way towards the Goblet, the blue flames tantalizing. I picked a parchment from my pocket and carefully placed it in the azure embers that cackled and shone a beautiful hue in the darkened hall.

Just as I had entered, I slipped inside my cloak and exited the Hall.

The next day, Ron, Hermione and I were sitting in the Great Hall, watching everyone entering their name. Alicia Spinnet entered her name, So did Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Cedric Diggory, Adrian Pucey, Gemma Farley, Casius Warington, Fred and George, Cho Chang, Dean Thomas, Blaise Zabini, Lee Jordan, Susan Bones, and so on. I noticed that most members of prestigious and rich families avoided entering their names, the exception being Diggory, Zabini and Bones.

"Hey pass me a quill," Ron said, grabbing a quill from Hermione.

"You entering your name?" I asked as he scribbled his name in a parchment.

"Such confidence—" Fred said.

"Perhaps the Goblet would think it worthy?" George added.

"Or maybe the bravery at even attempting?"

"Or maybe pure naivety and blissful ignorance?"

"Or maybe—"

"Oh shut it— You two!" Ron exclaimed, irritation dancing in his eyes.

"Ohh~ ickle Ronnkins is angry~" Fred teased and Ron thre his hand up in defeat.

Eventually, after a few minutes, Ron entered his name in the Goblet of Fire.

"What about you Harry?" Ron asked and Hermione turned to look at me, putting the book she was reading on her lap. "Will you enter?"

"Maybe I will… Maybe I have…" I said illusively.

Suddenly the students from Beauxbatons were coming through the front doors from the grounds, among them, the Fleur Delacour. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly. Madame Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped forward and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks.

"What d'you reckon'll happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" Ron muttered to Harry as the quarter-veela dropped her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. "Reckon they'll go back to school, or hang around to watch the tournament?"

"Pretty sure they will stay," I said and explained, "The tournament is after all, to improve international relations and all that. Also Madame Maxime is staying as a judge…"

When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again.

We spent the rest of the day hanging around Hagrid's. Though after a while I excused myself, giving vague reasons. All of them thought that I was going to enter my name. I actually just wanted some free time to read Slytherin's journal and practice, so I quickly made my way to the Room of Requirements.

The Room of Requirements changed into a large room, with big targets to practice. 'Neat' I thought as I sat down on a chair and opened the black scaled leather Journal.

Hours passed one after another. And by the time I had left the room, it was evening. I cursed myself and started rushing towards the Great Hall.

"Bloody hell mate— where have you been?" Ron asked as I slid down between him and Hermione.

"Sorry guys… got a little distracted…" I said and explained as Hermione's inquisitorial eyes fell on me, "Practicing some spells."

That seemed to palate Hermione and Ron. They noticed how I had been constantly practicing spells every now and then, whenever I got free time. I was surprised that neither of them prodded me more because of it. But… let's not question good things.

Just like the previous day, the feast was extravagantly prepared. And unlike most people, who were too excited to see who would become the champion, I made it my goal to enjoy it to the fullest. Many eyes rested on Dumbledore, seeing every one of his moves as he ate while engaged in a conversation with Bagman.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he indicated the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting. . . . A few people kept checking their watches. . . .

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The first champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

Viktor Krum rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

Once the clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

Fleur Delacour got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next…

The Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Harry Potter!"

I could sense a little surprise from Dumbledore's voice, but nevertheless, a smile made its way across my lips. Ron and Hermione both looked at me in shock while the entire Gryffindor table lit up in loud cheers and congratulations.

I stood up and glanced at Ron and Hermione, "I will see you guys later."

I made my way towards the stage, moving along the teacher's table. McGonagall flashed me a small smile, so did Babbling and Flitwick. Hagrid sent me a beaming smile, though his expression also showed great astonishment.

Finally I slid inside the side chamber and found myself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite me.

Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantle piece. The silver haired wixen noticed me, and her gaze studied me curiously. Her eyes fell on my scar and momentarily widened before she schooled her expression.

"Are you ze Hogwarts champion?" she asked, a little surprised. "Aren't you... a leetle young?"

Krum straightened a little and stared at me, curious and intrigued dancing in his gray gloomy eyes.

"Uh-huh," I hummed affirmatively while staring at the crimson flames of the hearth, not daring to look at her figure. Too entrancing, even though I could control myself… still, too entrancing.

One by one the rest of the champions also entered. The second champions of Durmstrang, Beauxbaton and Hogwarts were Anastasia Petrova, Pierre Leroy and CEdric Diggory respectively. The third champion of each school were, Aleksandr Novak, Marie Bernard and Gemma Farley.

Author's Note: Another chapter done. I hope everyone would like it. This chapter is quite similar to the original goblet of fire book... so hopefully, no one will find it too boring. Anyways, the actual story has begun, let's just see what will happen next. I wrote this chapter in 5 hours, so there would be mistakes. Point them to me in reviews please.