Ron

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Gryffindor Common Room

October 30th

6:43 pm 

"You three always seem to find yourselves in all sorts of trouble!" McGonagall scolded as she tugged on Hermione's and Harry's ears. Ron had enough mind to follow silently. The scary professor dragged the three of them straight to the Fat Lady's portrait. 

"I don't want you three sticking your noses in places it doesn't belong, especially this year," said Professor McGonagall with pursed lips. She turned and walked stiffly back down the stairs, leaving them to their thoughts.

Ron had no idea what exactly happened. Hermione insisted that the three strange teenagers had bloody swords for Merlin's sake! That is a little bit ridiculous, not that Ron was going to tell Hermione that. But when Ron had looked over when the creepy guy had Ron's own wand pressed against his neck, he had seen sticks pressed against Harry's and Hermione's neck. But for a moment, the tall guy with dark hair's stick flickered into something that glowed gold. 

Before Ron could think of the topic any further, Harry spoke the password to get them into the common room.

"Flibbertigibbet."

When they entered the gold and red common room, it was bustling with students. Older students have claimed the couches and armchairs by the fire, but almost every Gryffindor student was squashed in the room.

Multiple platters of sandwiches filled up a table at the back of the room. Ron shoved his way through the crowd, his stomach grumbling quite loudly. Hermione and Harry followed him, probably hungry themselves.

While they ate, they spoke in hushed whispers about what they've seen and what it means. The room was crowded, but with the chatter that filled the air, their whispers were covered.

"They aren't muggles," Harry said. Hermione nodded. Ron took a bite of his sandwich. 

"No, they aren't. They also didn't know that the castle was filled with wizards," Hermione added. Ron frowned.

"So 'f they 'idn't know 'hat H'gwa'ts 's," Ron swallowed the food in his mouth before continuing. "Why are they here in the first place?" Harry and Hermione frowned, they didn't seem to have an answer to that.

"Why is everyone in the common room anyway?" Harry asked, standing on his toes as if that would help him see better. Ron shrugged.

"Well they're waiting for some types of answers I guess," Hermione said. Ron huffed a laugh as he took another bite.

"Based on wh't we 'aw. They'd be left 'ith more questions than 'nswers." 

Nico

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Dumbledore's Office

October 30th

9:42 pm

Dumbledore had spoken to them for many hours about the Triwizard Tournament, creating a plan. The old man had no idea who they were or what they were, but Nico was thankful that they were able to find a semblance of a plan, it was better than the absolute confusion they had when entering the gods forsaken castle. 

They were to say that they were joining the Triwizard Tournament, as a fourth school that comes from America. Annabeth would probably handle their backstories, Nico was too encaptured by the room around them. 

The subjects of the portraits milled around, talking to other subjects, or simply stared at the demigods. None spoke, but he didn't know if they couldn't or they just didn't. 

An old hat sat on a top shelf too, its stitches looking strange, like a mouth and two closed eyes. Nico could have sworn he heard it say something when they entered. 

But the main thing that held his thoughts was the ghosts. He could feel their presences mill around below his feet. Even through multiple floors of concrete, their wandering unnerved him. They weren't Lares or any mythical spirits, they were something completely different, made up of something that Nico did not know of. 

"Alastor," Dumbledore called out, presumably to a wizard that was still standing outside the door, "Come in here please." 

The man with the fake eye and scarred face opened the door and limped in. His cane made a strange noise as it hit the ground with every step. 

"Yes, Dumbledore?" His voice was rough and deep. Nico could feel the weight of his gaze on him, but he didn't dare to turn. Whatever that fake eye was, it was more than glass.

"Can you lead our guests to a spare room please?" The old man asked. The wizard with the strange eye nodded and turned, shuffling out. The demigods followed.

Nico leaned on his sword, only hoping that the wizard wasn't clear-sighted, he didn't want to have to explain why the shadows seemed to be drawn towards the dark iron. 

The wizard led them down two more staircases and then up three more. Nico was going to go crazy in the castle if this is how they got around. Wizards are insane.

Finally, when Nico's feet began to ache and his knees to buckle, the wizard stopped. Nico did not recognize anything but the stone floor and walls that made up the castle. Laid before them was a wooden door, like one seen in the medieval ages. Actually, they might actually be in the medieval ages. There isn't any technology and everyone is wearing a sort of robes, so they could be. But Dumbledore didn't seem weirded out by their clothing choices other than a few flickering gazes. 

Percy pushed open the wooden door, walking into the darkroom. Annabeth followed him. 

Nico looked back at the strange wizard once more, still creeped out by the way that the eye seemed to stare right into his soul. He entered the room.

As soon as Nico shut the door behind them, torches that lined the walls lit up. 

"Are we in the middle ages?" Nico asked, looking around the cold room. It had a large bed, maybe Queen sized, and a nightstand. There was a window overlooking the forest, but nothing else. 

"I don't know," Annabeth opened the drawer to the nightstand. She took out a quill, ink bottle, and parchment paper.

"Okay, we have to be really far back in time," Percy said as he looked at the parchment paper. "I'm thankful for the lack of technology and all, but I'd like to know what era of time we're in." 

Nico nodded, agreeing with him. He walked up to the bed and padded down the black sheet that laid on top of it. Dust rose up, right in his face.

"Ah- Ah-choo!" Nico sneezed. Percy and Annabeth looked over with surprise.

"What?" Nico rubbed his nose. Percy shrugged.

"I don't think I've ever heard you sneeze before, it sounds like a little kitten." 

Nico glared at him. "I don't think I've seen you so red before Dumbledore called Annabeth 'Miss. Jackson.'" Percy choked on his breath, cheeks turning scarlet. Annabeth laughed softly as she rolled out the parchment and uncorked the ink bottle.

"What are you doing?" Nico asked. He grabbed the edges of the sheet and tugged, trying to air them out. Percy came over and helped him.

"We need to get our story straight as soon as possible, I think it would be better to write it down so we can always look back on it." Annabeth placed the quill in the ink and scribbled out something on top of the parchment. She groaned, breaking the edge of the quill.

"Why wizards use quills is beyond me," Annabeth pressed her hand against her forehead, frowning at the mess of ink on the top of the parchment paper. She dropped her hand, but an inky handprint remained.

Nico opened his mouth to say something but Percy shook his head at him, he had a troublemaker grin spreading across his face. Nico just shrugged and continued airing out the sheets. 

Annabeth knelt down and looked through her bag while Nico and Percy finished airing out the sheets. Percy flopped down across the bed and looked over at Annabeth, she was holding a blue ballpoint pen in her hand. With the inky handprint on her forehead, she looked a little crazy. Nico couldn't help the huff of laughter that escaped him.

Percy grinned at him before looking back at Annabeth, grinning widely. Annabeth frowned at the two of them. 

"What's going on?" Annabeth asked, placing the ballpoint pen on the nightstand. Percy just chuckled. 

Her eyes narrowed. "Percy Jackson, I swear to the gods that if you don't tell me-"

"There's ink on your forehead," Nico interrupted. He didn't think it would be productive for Annabeth to kill Percy on their first night of the quest. 

"Thanks, Nico." Annabeth smiled at him before turning and glaring at Percy. She leaned down and wrote something across the top of the parchment. 

"You know how to write Ancient Greek?" Nico asked, leaning over to see better. Demigods could automatically be able to read Ancient Greek, but they could not speak or write it. 

In big letters across the top, Annabeth wrote Σημειώσεις αναζήτησης. Or, Quest Notes.

"Just regular Greek," Annabeth explained, going to list out things that they would have to know for their backstories. "No one speaks Ancient Greek anymore, so there's no one to teach it. It's not like Latin."

"When did you learn it?" Percy asked. He too was leaning over Annabeth's shoulder to see what she was writing. 

"I had 5 years in Camp Half-Blood before you came along Percy," Annabeth said. "My life didn't begin when you came." 

Nico coughed into his fist, hiding his laugh. 

Annabeth

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Unmarked Room on the 3rd Floor

October 30th

10:49 pm

After an hour of hammering out the backstory, Annabeth was dead on her feet. The parchment they have found was now filled with various scribbles, all gleaming in blue ink. Her hand was aching from the countless writing. 

The torches on the walls have not dimmed since they've entered. Annabeth wondered when they went to sleep the torches would turn off or if they would burn until dawn. 

Percy laid down on the left, Annabeth in the middle, and Nico on the right. Personal space was no issue, no one wanted to volunteer to sleep on the dusty floor, especially not Annabeth. She saw cobwebs climb the corners and she was not risking it. 

Her dream was strange. Demigod dreams were always strange, as they usually gave visions or messages from the gods. This, however, was obviously nothing of her world. There was a boy with darker skin and round glasses standing in a courtyard surrounded by green hedges. Annabeth recognized him, he was one of the kids who had found them in the classroom. It was extremely dark out, the only light from a blue cup that sat on a crumbling pedestal. The cup seemed to pulse, it pushed back against Annabeth, not wanting her near it. 

His green eyes went to hers. 

"Go on!" He shouted, gesturing to the cup. "You take it!" 

The scene changed. Annabeth was now standing in the hall that she, Nico, and Percy had run into earlier that night, but it was now decorated. Christmas trees lined the walls and icicles hung from the ceiling. It was like a winter wonderworld. But it was empty, there was laughter and chatter, but she was alone. 

"You don't belong here," a feminine voice said behind her. Annabeth turned. It was a girl younger than her, maybe 13 years old. She had blonde hair and large eyes. Her voice was unnaturally smooth.

"What?" Annabeth asked. 

"You aren't like us, you don't belong here." 

Annabeth woke up.              

Harry

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Great Hall

October 31st

8:02 am

Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the Great Hall. It was a Saturday, but instead of sleeping in like they usually did, they traveled down to the Great Hall.

Students filled the tables or milled around, apparently, they weren't the only ones who wanted answers. All seats at the staff table were filled, only Moody missing. 

For some reason, Mr. Crouch and Lugo Bagman were at Hogwarts. They were sitting on the right of Dumbledore, speaking with each other with flitting gazes. It was obvious they were talking about something serious. 

Hermione noticed Harry's questioning gaze, "Bagman and Crouch organized the Triwizard Tournament, so it makes sense for them to want to see it happen." 

Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table, looking around. Hermione and Ron sat across from him. Ron immediately began eating while Hermione frowned at him, apparently still hung up on the house-elves.

"Good morning to all!" Dumbledore said, standing up. All the students immediately looked at him. It was very unusual for the headmaster to make speeches during breakfast, as people just came in when they pleased. However, most of the school was now in the Great Hall, so it was as good as time as any. "Unfortunately, we were interrupted last night-"

Whispers grew in the hall at that. Dumbledore held up his hand, "We will discuss that later. Now, however, we will be discussing the Triwizard Tournament." Immediately, all whispers ceased. The curiosity of the tournament outweighed the questions of the teenage intruders. 

*"The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket -"　　

"The what?" Harry muttered. Ron shrugged.

"- 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."

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. Remembering him in his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, Harry thought he looked strange in wizard's robes. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.

"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."

At the mention of the word "champions," the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

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; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.

"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 compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools."*

Dumbledore paused and looked around, the teachers surrounding him looked at the man strangely. He turned back to the students before speaking. 

"This year, however, there will be a fourth school participating. The students will be joining us shortly. *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 three 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.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into 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, go enjoy your weekend."

As soon as Dumbledore stopped speaking, whispers and chatter rose up. A fourth school participating? Apparently, Crouch and Bagman didn't know what Dumbledore was talking about either, Crouch holding Dumbledore's sleeve so tightly as he whispered to him, Harry feared he would rip the fabric. Madame Maxime and Karkaroff talking as well, obviously angry.

Fred and George starting talking about how an aging spell would trick the goblet, but Harry kept thinking back to what Dumbledore said, about a fourth school. It had something to do why those intruders, he was sure of it.

"'arry?" Ron asked, chewing on a sausage. "You alright?"

Harry looked over to him, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Something isn't right here," he said. "We need to figure out what." 

Hi!

I am so sorry that I missed Monday's update. My personal life is very crazy right now and it's hard to find the motivation to write. Because of that, I will be changing the update schedules. I will now only update on Mondays and Fridays instead of Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I hope you understand.

Anything that is surrounded by an (*) is not mine, this is an excerpt from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter: Goblet of Fire.

If you like this, please vote or comment! If you have any suggestions, just let me know!

-Hoarder