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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄

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A month into my sixth year, I'd finally settled into the rhythm of classes. The Owl Post had taken off in a way I hadn't anticipated, thanks in no small part to Sapphire Lain. With her sharp Slytherin perspective balancing out voices from all the houses, the newspaper had become a hit. It felt good to see students hunched over copies in the common room or laughing over Colin's enchanted photos at breakfast.

I was perched on a stone column in the courtyard as I scribbled away in my navy-blue journal. The quad was alive with the usual buzz of students, but my thoughts were elsewhere, lost in half-formed ideas for the next issue.

Then I heard it—the low, thrumming sound of wings cutting through the air, a deep hum that seemed to reverberate in my chest. A shadow passed overhead, and I glanced up just in time to see a gleaming carriage descending from the sky, pulled by massive, white-winged Abraxans.

The courtyard erupted. Students were craning their necks, pointing, and chattering excitedly. The commotion sent a ripple through the crowd, and I had to clutch the edge of the column to avoid being knocked off.

The carriage was massive, its glossy exterior shimmering like polished pearl in the autumn sunlight. The Abraxans' immense wings flapped with a regal elegance, each beat creating a rush of wind that blew my hair back and made my journal pages flutter. 

"Oi, Zelly!" a familiar voice called over the rising chatter.

I turned to see George standing beside Fred. His voice was loud enough to cut through the "oohs" and "ahhs" of the gathered students.

"Do you know what this is about?" Fred added, his tone just as eager.

I shook my head, still caught between awe and confusion. "Haven't the foggiest,"

Whatever was happening, it was bound to make headlines.

Hagrid could be seen, his massive frame a beacon as he waved his arms to guide the descending carriage. The Abraxans landed but the gusts from their wings were so strong that they knocked Hagrid off his feet. He stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding a tumble, and had to leap out of the way as the carriage settled with a thud.

"Well, there's something you don't see every day," Fred remarked, his grin wide as he leaned toward George.

Intrigued and eager for a closer look, I hopped off the ledge where I'd been perched and wedged myself between Harry and the twins. 

Before I could fully process the enormity of the carriage and its majestic arrival, another gasp rippled through the crowd. This time, all eyes turned toward the Black Lake.

A deep, reverberating groan echoed across the grounds, the water's surface churning. A colossal ship burst forth from the inky depths, its masts towering against the sky. The hull dripped with dark water as it climbed higher, emerging fully to rest on the lake's surface.

✦

"Now that we're all settled in and sorted," Dumbledore's voice rang out, clear and commanding over the hum of chatter in the Great Hall, "I'd like to make an announcement."

I sat with my friends, the anticipation making me tap my fingers on the edge of my plate. Lottie and I exchanged a glance, her brows raised in curiosity, before we both turned our attention back to the headmaster.

"This castle," Dumbledore continued as his eyes scanned the room, "will not only be your home this year but also home to some very special guests."

"You see, Hogwarts has been chosen—" 

A low creak sounded as the enormous doors to the Great Hall opened. Filch scurried in, his abrupt entrance caused a ripple of whispers across the tables. He leaned toward Dumbledore, muttering something urgent, before hurrying out just as quickly.

"Chosen for what?" Lottie whispered under her breath, her elbow nudging mine.

"—to host a legendary event. The Triwizard Tournament," he announced, his voice resonating with gravity.

My jaw slackened. The Triwizard Tournament? It had been centuries since the last one, abandoned due to the high death tolls. Surely, he couldn't mean it.

"You're kidding," I muttered, half to myself, still processing.

Dumbledore continued, undeterred by the rising excitement. "For those of you who do not know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of magical contests. From each school, one student will be selected to compete. Now, let me be clear: if chosen, you stand alone. And trust me when I say, these contests are not for the faint of heart."

"He's not kidding," Lottie whispered to me.

Before I could respond, Dumbledore raised his hands again. "But more of that later," he said with a dismissive wave, as though the Triwizard Tournament wasn't the most monumental announcement we'd ever heard. "For now, please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their headmistress, Madame Maxime."

The great oak doors creaked open with a slow groan and every head in the room swiveled toward the entrance. What followed could only be described as magical perfection.

In formation, a procession of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen glided into the hall. Their pale blue silk uniforms shimmered in the candlelight as they moved with a synchronized elegance that seemed almost otherworldly. Each movement choreographed. As they paused periodically, they raised their arms in a graceful flourish, harmonizing in a soft, ethereal song that seemed to enchant the very air around them.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Bell," Elsie snickered, elbowing Bellamy, who sat slack-jawed, utterly mesmerized by their entrance. I couldn't help but smirk at how lovestruck he looked, but truth be told, they were stunning enough to render anyone speechless.

As if their ethereal beauty wasn't enough, butterflies—real, shimmering butterflies—emerged from nowhere, fluttering gracefully through the air. Gasps of amazement rippled through the students. Even the most cynical among us couldn't help but be captivated.

"Wow," Cedric murmured. His voice drew my attention, and I followed his gaze to the most striking figure in the procession.

There, towering over the rest, was the tallest woman I had ever seen. Madame Maxime was an imposing figure, her presence commanding the room with effortless grace. She wore a magnificent gown of flowing fabric that moved as though caught in a gentle breeze. 

There was something about her, about all of them, that felt larger than life—figuratively for the girls and quite literally for their headmistress.

"Blimey," I muttered under my breath, my eyes unable to look away as they gracefully moved to stand off to the side. 

The hall erupted into cheers, applause filling the air as the Beauxbatons girls concluded their mesmerizing entrance. I clapped along, still in awe of what I'd just witnessed.

"Why don't I look like that?" Lottie muttered, leaning closer to me. Then, almost as if panicked, she added, "Do I look like that?"

I rolled my eyes, suppressing a smile. "You're beautiful, Charlotte," I said, shaking my head at her self-doubt.

As the applause began to die down, Dumbledore stepped forward once more, his voice carrying over the lingering whispers of admiration. "And now," he began, spreading his arms wide, "our friends from the north. Please join me in welcoming the proud sons of Durmstrang and their high master, Igor Karkaroff."

The great doors creaked open again and a line of boys marched into the hall, their footsteps synchronized, their expressions steely and focused. Each of them wielded a bo staff, which they spun and twirled with expert precision, the movements fluid yet powerful. Periodically, they slammed their staffs into the ground, and with each strike, sparks erupted, sending a wave of crackling light across the stone floor.

My jaw dropped. There was something primal about it, a display of strength that made the hall feel smaller, as though their presence alone demanded every ounce of our attention.

I tore my gaze away for a moment, glancing up at the professors' table. Ma caught my eye and gave me a knowing wink. My face flushed, and I quickly turned back toward the procession, trying to focus on the Durmstrang boys and not the embarrassment warming my cheeks.

As they reached the center of the hall, they performed a final synchronized flourish with their staffs, slamming them down one last time in unison. Sparks flew high into the air, and the room erupted in cheers once more, the applause nearly deafening.

I couldn't help but clap again, my eyes darting between the Durmstrang students and their imposing leader, Igor Karkaroff  and Viktor-fucking-Krum, who entered last with a dramatic their heavy fur-lined cloaks.

Hogwarts wasn't going to be the same this year—that much was certain.

Before I had time to process what I'd just witnessed, Dumbledore moved to the front of the aisle with a flourish.

"Hogwarts," he announced, his voice booming through the Great Hall. "Let's entertain our friends in the best way we can."

Oh no.

"Everyone, all stand!" Dumbledore commanded, raising his hands dramatically. "Maestro, please!" 

Before I could think to duck out, the entire hall erupted into song.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something, please,
Whether we be old and bald,
Or young with scabby knees,"

Charlotte spun around dramatically, her robes flaring as she belted out the lyrics louder than anyone else. She grabbed my arm and tried to pull me into her impromptu dance, but I resisted, laughing despite myself.

Above us, magical words appeared in the air, shimmering gold as Dumbledore pointed to them conducting us like an orchestra.

"Our heads could do with filling,
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,"

"So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot!"

The final notes rang out, and the hall burst into laughter and applause, the tension of the earlier introductions completely dispelled.

Charlotte dramatically bowed, earning a smattering of cheers. "And that, my dear Zelda, is how you make an impression!" she said, grinning from ear to ear.

I couldn't help but smile as I shook my head. 

After a large golden object with black trims and a pointed top was wheeled into the Great Hall, all eyes turned to it. As it was positioned at the front of the room, Dumbledore stepped forward, commanding the attention of every student and professor with an outstretched hand.

"Your attention, please!" he called, his voice resonating through the room. "I would like to say a few words."

Instantly, the murmur of chatter died away, replaced by an almost palpable silence. Every gaze was fixed on Dumbledore as he placed a hand on the golden object.

"Eternal glory," he began, his voice taking on a weighty tone, "that is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to achieve this, that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks."

I felt my stomach churn, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "This should have stayed buried," I muttered, shaking my head as I tried to keep my fury in check. "This is mad."

Cedric leaned forward with a small smirk. "I don't know, Zell. Seems mint," he admitted, his tone casual, as though we weren't talking about life-or-death stakes.

"People could die," I shot back, my eyes narrowing at his indifference.

Cedric merely shrugged, turning his attention back to Dumbledore. I followed suit, my irritation simmering as I tried to focus on the headmaster.

"For this reason," Dumbledore continued, his tone growing more serious, "the Ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule. To explain all this, we have the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Mr. Bartemius Crouch."

Just as Dumbledore gestured toward the back of the hall, a deafening clap of thunder echoed overhead. The enchanted ceiling rippled with dark, ominous clouds as rain began to pour down, streaming through cracks in the roof. Gasps and startled cries broke out among the students as they shielded themselves from the sudden deluge.

Then, from the doorway, a strange figure emerged. His limp was pronounced as he stepped into the hall, his tattered cloak trailing behind him. With a flick of his wand, he sent a burst of magic skyward, sealing the roof and halting the rain in an instant. The hall grew eerily quiet once more, all attention now on the man.

"Who the bloody hell is that?" Elsie whispered beside me.

"That's Mad-Eye Moody," I replied, my voice dropping as I leaned slightly toward her. My eyes remained fixed on the man as he strode forward. His mismatched eyes—a normal one and a large, swiveling magical one—scanned the room.

I knew who he was. My ma, with her connections to the Aurors, had spoken of him often.

Moody exchanged a brief, gruff greeting with Dumbledore before tilting his flask to his lips. The students whispered and exchanged curious glances, their attention divided between the grizzled Auror and the golden object at the front of the hall.

Then Barty Crouch stepped forward, his sharp gaze sweeping over the students. The chatter in the hall dissipated as he began to speak.

"After much deliberation, the Ministry has concluded that, for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen—"

Before he could finish, the hall erupted into a cacophony of protests. Cries of outrage echoed from every corner, complaints about fairness and opportunity flooding the air.

"Shall be allowed to put forth their name for the Triwizard Tournament," Crouch continued firmly, his voice rising above the chaos. "This decision is final."

"That's rubbish! You don't know what you're doing!" came the unmistakable voices of the twins from the Gryffindor table beside ours. I simply rolled my eyes.

At least those troublemakers won't be able to enter, I thought with a faint smirk. My shoulders slackened slightly at the realization, but a quick glance to Cedric wiped away any relief. Bones and Reynolds were leaning in toward Cedric, their voices excited.

I frowned, my stomach knotting. This wasn't a joke—it was dangerous. And Cedric looked far too intrigued.

"Silence!"

Dumbledore's voice boomed across the hall, cutting through the noise. The students fell silent at once, and all eyes turned back to him. With a flick of his wand, the golden object began to dissolve, the shimmering surface fading away to reveal an ancient goblet. A bright, magical blue flame flickered above it.

Dumbledore's gaze swept over us, his expression grave. "The Goblet of Fire," he said, his voice quieter but no less commanding. "Anyone wishing to submit themselves for the tournament need only write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it into the flame before this hour on Thursday night."

The flame seemed to dance with a strange, almost sentient energy as if aware of the attention it commanded.

"But do not do so lightly," Dumbledore warned, his tone heavy with meaning. "If chosen, there is no turning back."

"And so," he concluded, stepping back from the Goblet, "from this moment, the Triwizard Tournament has begun."

✦

The door slammed behind me as I stormed into my ma's classroom, my cloak swishing angrily around my ankles. She looked up from her desk, quill poised over a stack of essays. Her expression shifted from calm to concern in an instant.

"Zelda," she said, setting the quill down carefully. "I take it this is about the Goblet of Fire?"

"Of course, it's about the bloody Goblet of Fire!" I snapped, throwing my bag onto a chair. I started pacing the room, my frustration bubbling over like a boiling potion. "How could they bring it back? How could he allow it? Three tasks—three extremely dangerous tasks—and for what? Eternal glory? That's supposed to be worth risking lives over?"

Ma leaned back in her chair, her expression weary but patient. "I know, love. I told Albus the same thing."

I froze mid-step and stared at her. "You told him? And he just ignored you?"

She sighed, rubbing her temples as if the conversation with Dumbledore had already drained her. "It's not as simple as that. The decision wasn't entirely his. The Ministry had the final say. Albus pushed for more safety measures, for stricter regulations, but the Goblet's return wasn't his choice to make."

"So, what?" I threw my arms up. "We're just supposed to sit back and let students get themselves killed for some stupid competition? It's madness!"

Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood and walked over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I agree with you," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Believe me, I do. The risks are terrifying. But the rules are set, and the Goblet's magic is binding. There's nothing anyone can do to stop it now."

I shook her hand off, stepping away to glare out the window. The rain streaked the glass, the storm outside matching the one in my chest. "It just feels so...avoidable," I muttered, my voice tight with anger. "Why do people have to risk their lives for a bloody cup? It's disgusting."

Ma sighed and joined me by the window, her reflection a shadow beside mine in the rain-speckled glass. "Because tradition blinds people," she said softly. "It makes them think the cost is worth it. But you don't have to feel that way, Zelda. And you don't have to stay silent if you believe it's wrong."

I turned to her, torn between my anger and the helplessness creeping in at the edges. "What can I even do? The rules are already set. The Goblet's already here."

"You can do what you always do," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear the way she did when I was little. "Speak up when you see something wrong. Be a voice of reason in all this chaos. Just try not to slam any more doors in the process."

Despite myself, I let out a small, reluctant laugh. "No promises," I muttered.

She chuckled, pulling me into a quick hug. "Just be careful," she said, her tone soft but serious. "This tournament is going to stir up more than just school pride. Keep your wits about you."

"I will," I promised, though the weight in my chest didn't budge.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, her words echoing in my mind. The Goblet of Fire might have been beyond my control, but that didn't mean I had to stay quiet. Somewhere in this mess, there had to be a way to make my voice count.

✦