CHAPTER SIX:

Third Person P.O.V.:

"That was a lie, Harry," said Hermione sharply over breakfast the next morning. "You didn't imagine your scar hurting and you know it."

Harry had just joined Charlie, Hermione, and Ron in the Great Hall. He told them that the reason for him being late was because he wrote to Sirius early in the morning, assuring him that nothing was wrong, and that he must've been imagining his scar hurting; everything was fine, no need for the return.

"So what?" said Harry. "He's not going back to Azkaban because of me."

"And you honestly think he's going to believe that?" Charlie questioned, "I mean for goodness sakes, Sirius is a lot of things, but he's not an idiot."

"Let's just drop it," Ron said, stuffing his face full of egg and sausage.

——————————————

Harry spent majority of that day worrying about Sirius. He never did express his concern with words, but it was visible from the look on his face.

As for Charlie, he preoccupied himself with helping Hermione with S.P.E.W. for a good portion of the day. He figured that it was best to remain on Hermione's good side before the delegations arrived and they had a newfound problem with Elaina hanging around.

He used his undeniable charm and connections around the school to sell a couple of the badges. Granted, majority of whom Charlie sold them to didn't understand the need for the organization, but obliged anyway because well, Charlie could be very persuasive. The brown eyed boy was content with selling the badges during lunch as it made Hermione happy, and that's all he wanted to see.

As for their classes, the lessons seemed be getting more and more intense, especially when it came to Defence Against the Dark Arts. On the day that the delegations were set to arrive, Professor Moody had announced that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of his students as a way to demonstrate its power and to see whether or not they were skilled enough to resist its effects.

"But — but you said it's illegal, Professor," said Hermione uncertainly as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said — to use it against another human was —"

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way — when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely — fine by me. Off you go."

He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Charlie grinned slightly, he knew Hermione would rather eat Bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon them. Charlie watched as, one by one, his classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence. Dean Thomas hopped three times around the room, singing the national anthem. Lavender Brown imitated a squirrel. Neville performed a series of quite astonishing gymnastics he would certainly not have been capable of in his normal state. Not one of them seemed to be able to fight off the curse, and each of them recovered only when Moody had removed it.

When Harry's name was called, and he was put under the effects of the curse, the boy began to shake, as though he was trying his hardest to resist. His entire body shook furiously, resulting in him crashing headfirst into Moody's desk to which the majority of the class had to stifle a laugh — the boy definitely had a concussion.

"Hawthorne," Moody growled as Harry was picked up off the floor, "you're next."

Charlie moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks.

Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Charlie, and said, "Imperio!"

It was the most wonderful feeling. Charlie felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him.

Then he heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of his empty brain:

Jump onto the desk... jump onto the desk...

Almost instantly, Charlie bent his knees slightly, preparing to spring, but tried to resist as much as possible.

Jump onto the desk...

Why, though?

Another voice had awoken in the back of his brain.

Stupid thing to do, really, said the voice.

Jump onto the desk...

No, I don't think I will, thanks, said the other voice, a little more firmly, no, I don't really want to...

Jump! NOW!

But Charlie managed to resist, despite Moody's aggressive attempt at trying to make the spell work. His wand was shaking in his hand, and his jaw was clenched, but Charlie remained untouched by channeling every part of his self-control.

The young boy had spent majority of his life restraining himself from lashing out on the constant degrading remarks from his father, so he had some experience in his resistance.

"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice, and suddenly, Charlie felt the empty, echoing feeling in his head disappear. He remembered exactly what was happening, and the pressure on his knees was relieved.

"Look at that, you lot... Hawthorne fought! He fought it, and he damn well beat it! We'll try that again, Hawthorne, and the rest of you, pay attention — watch his eyes, that's where you see it — very good, Hawthorne, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you! That's good to know..."

"The way he talks," Charlie muttered as he hobbled out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class an hour later, "you'd think we were all going to be attacked any second."

"Yeah, I know," said Ron, who was skipping on every alternate step. Hermione and Harry were following closely behind them.

All four of them were still completely dumbfounded as to how Professor Moody was able to perform such a curse on a bunch of fourteen year olds.

———————————————

After Care of Magical Creatures that day, Charlie, Hermione, Harry, and Ron had found themselves heading towards the Entrance Hall, but were unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase. Charlie, the tallest of the four (only slightly taller than Ron), stood up on his tiptoes to see over the heads in front of them and read the sign aloud to the other three:

THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK LATER TODAY. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY —

"Brilliant!" said Harry. "We have Potions next! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"

STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN THE GREAT HALL FOR THE WELCOMING FEAST.

"Only a couple of hours away!" said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him..."

"Cedric?" said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off.

"Diggory," said Harry. "He must be entering the tournament."

"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" Ron said, aghast, as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.

"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor in Quidditch," scolded Hermione. "I've heard he's a really good student — and he's a prefect."

She spoke as though this settled the matter to which Charlie shook his head slightly in disbelief.

"You only like him because he's handsome," said Ron, scathingly.

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" said Hermione indignantly, glancing at Charlie for a moment, but so quickly that none of her friends seemed to notice, "There are other reasons to like someone..."

Charlie raised a brow before giving a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like "Lockhart!"

Harry and Ron grinned widely at Hermione's flustered state as they continued on their way towards their last class of the day, Potions.

——————————————

The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle, everyone was overjoyed and getting ready for the delegations to arrive shortly.

After getting out of Potions seemingly unscathed and returning their books to their dorms, the four Gryffindor friends found themselves back in the Great Hall, which had been decorated while the students were in their classes.

Enormous silk banners were hung from the walls, each of them representing a different Hogwarts House proudly — red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, green with a silver serpent for Slytherin, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and finally, dark blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw. On the back wall, behind the large staff table, was the largest banner in the room — the lion, eagle, badger, and serpent solidified in unity within the Hogwarts crest.

Charlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat down beside Fred and George at the Gryffindor table. Once again, and most unusually, they were sitting apart from everyone else and conversing in low voices.

"It's a bummer, all right," George was saying gloomily to Fred. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

"Who's avoiding you?" said Ron, sitting down next to them.

"Wish you would," said Fred, looking irritated at the interruption.

"What's a bummer?" Ron asked George.

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," said George.

"You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet?" Harry asked. "Thought any more about trying to enter?"

Hermione gave Harry a scolding look, "Don't go encouraging them."

"Any one wondering what the tasks are going to be like?" inquired Ron. "I bet we could do them. We've done loads of dangerous stuff before —"

"Did you not hear my grandfather?" Charlie sighed, "This Tournament is famous for its death-toll. I don't know about you, but I'm not trying to die anytime soon, especially not for something as pathetic as 'eternal glory'."

"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't," said Fred towards his brother, ignoring Charlie's remark. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks."

"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," said Hermione, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice, the champions were supposed to be catching, went on a rampage."

She noticed them all looking at her and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, "It's all in Hogwarts, A History —"

Her next few words were drowned out by the sudden whooshing noise from overhead, which thankfully, only a couple of Gryffindors were in the Great Hall to notice.

Charlie looked up at once, and saw Hedwig soaring towards the table. They watched Hedwig anxiously as she fluttered down onto Harry's shoulder, folded her wings, and held out her leg wearily.

Harry pulled off the piece of parchment and then, checking that Fred and George were safely immersed in further discussions about the Triwizard Tournament, Harry read out Sirius's letter in a whisper to his friends.

Nice try, Harry.

I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar.

Sirius

"Why d'you have to keep changing owls?" Ron asked in a low voice.

"Hedwig'll attract too much attention," said Hermione at once. "She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he's hiding... I mean, they're not native birds, are they?"

"She's right," Charlie whispered, "it's best to keep this under wraps for now, it looks as though the feast is about to begin."

The door of the Great Hall had opened, and hundreds of students from each House had started piling in the room, moving to their designated tables. Hedwig, startled by the sudden loud noises, had flew off the way she came, while Harry had stuffed Sirius' note in his robes.

Not long after, Dumbledore strode down the pathway between the House tables, the rest of the staff following closely behind him. However, the sight of his father, Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch among that group of adults is what really intrigued Charlie.

"What are they doing here?" Ron whispered in Charlie's direction.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Charlie, thinking of the only viable answer he could come up with.

Hermione added on, "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

However, they were silenced as Dumbledore approached the golden podium, ready to speak.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" he beamed, "Today is a special day indeed! Today, we shall be welcoming the delegations from both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang who, I have been informed, have just recently arrived at the castle."

There was a significant cheer from the students, but Charlie had furrowed his brows.

"They're already here?" he whispered, turning to his friends, "What? No dramatic entrance?"

But Dumbledore continued on before Harry, Ron, or Hermione had the chance to make any comment.

"Please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and their Headmistress, Madame Maxime!"

Almost instantly, Charlie had tensed; here we go.

As if on cue, the Great Hall doors opened and a woman strode down the pathway wearing a diaphanous gown. She was elegant, yes, but also happened to be about ten feet tall.

"Blimey," muttered Seamus from a little bit further down the table, "That's one big woman."

Then, one by one, a procession of stunningly beautiful girls had entered the Hall in graceful synchronization. They all wore silky blue, skin-clinging robes, which made quite the impression on the boys in the room.

"Spoke too soon about the whole 'dramatic entrance' thing," muttered Hermione.

"They're veela!" Ron said hoarsely to Harry and Charlie.

"Of course they aren't!" said Hermione tartly, watching Charlie's gaze cautiously. "I don't see anyone else gaping at them like an idiot!"

But she wasn't entirely right about that. As the girl's crossed the Hall, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.

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

"I think they make them better than that at Hogwarts," Charlie said softly, without thinking.

Hermione had instantly snapped her head towards him, making heat rise in Charlie's cheeks due to her intense gaze. Internally, the bushy haired girl was screaming, but she tried her hardest to keep her calm. The victorious smile playing on her lips, however, was hard to resist.

However, as she went to relish in the moment with Charlie, the group of Beauxbatons had began to pitch themselves forward, cartwheeling to the top of the room, where, allayed in a circle, they awaited their last three members. Two blonde girls walked down the aisle, holding hands, one appearing younger than the other — must be sisters. Vaulting side by side to the centre of the circle, the older looking girl pulled out a silk scarf, dangling it in her fingertips, before spinning the smaller girl like a top to finish off a dramatic trick.

Then, last but not least, was Elaina Dumont.

She danced her way down the aisle, a trail of magically-enchanted birds chirping beside her. Then, as though searching for him, Elaina's eyes met Charlie's as she moved her way to the middle of the circle. She blew a kiss in his direction, and bowed gracefully, causing a handful of whistles from the boys in the room. Elaina glanced up, a teasing smile forming on her face, and sent a cheeky wink in Charlie's direction to finish off the dramatic entrance to which the crowd erupted in applause.

Charlie felt his heart began to beat faster as he sat still while the crowd around him cheered — he didn't know what to do.

"She's banging, mate!" Ron said, shaking Charlie's arm from across the table in excitement. "You lucky bastard!"

"You're absolutely disgusting," Hermione scoffed towards Ron, clutching the fork in her hand so hard out of jealousy, that her knuckles were turning white.

She turned to look at Charlie, but his eyes were fixated on the empty plate in front of him. As unfair as it sounded, she wanted reassurance. Charlie wasn't her boyfriend — she knew that — but still, she wanted him to tell her that the only girl he had eyes for was her...

Instead, he said nothing... he did nothing...

A fire of jealousy had fuelled in Hermione, burning so bright that she swore that if the Beauxbatons even attempted to sit near them, she'd lose her cool completely — thankfully, that didn't happen as the Beauxbatons sat on the other side of the room next to the Ravenclaws.

"And now..." Dumbledore announced once again, "our friends from the North! Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their Headmaster, Igor Karkaroff!"

The Great Hall door opened once again, and a tall, sleek, and arrogant-looking man walked forward. He was followed by a regiment of stoic Durmstrang students dressed in dark fur coats.

A pair of sleek black panthers, whose eyes fluttered gold, padded sullenly at the sides of Igor. The students behind him engaged in the craziest parkour-like jumps Charlie had ever seen.

Then, a quartet of Durmstrang boys brought torches to their lips and spat dazzling comets of fire into the air, causing enthusiastic applause from the room.

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, Charlie caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He didn't need the punch on the arm Ron gave him and Harry to recognize that profile.

"Harry — Charlie — it's Krum!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player."

"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'm getting his autograph if I can! You haven't got a quill, have you, Charlie or Harry?"

"Nope, they're upstairs in my bag," said Harry.

"Even if I did have one," Charlie muttered, "I wouldn't give it to you."

But Ron shook him off as he watched in awe as Krum walked down the aisle causing majority of the girl's in the room to stare in absolute admiration.

However, it was when Krum had passed by their section of the Gryffindor table that made Charlie furrow his brows. Viktor had sent an interesting glance towards Hermione, and suddenly, the brown eyed boy felt uneasy.

Surely, he didn't have anything to worry about... but what if he did —

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

"What?"

"Too late," said Ron bitterly.

Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Charlie could see Malfoy, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle looking very smug about this. As he watched, Malfoy bent forward to speak to Krum.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," said Ron scathingly. "I bet Krum can see right through him, though... bet he gets people fawning over him all the time..."

Charlie laughed slightly, "You're one to talk."

Ron ignored him, however, as he was too preoccupied with gawking over Viktor Krum.

"Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep?" He said, "We could offer him a space in our dormitory... I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."

Hermione snorted as Harry had widened his eyes.

"Absolutely not," Charlie said sharply, "You're not tainting our dorm room with your fanboy fantasies."

Harry had laughed hysterically as Ron sulked, putting his head down in defeat.

Dumbledore spoke once again, 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. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast, I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

Albus sat down, and Charlie saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation, while Madame Maxime seemed to cozying up to Hagrid, much to the discomfort of Professor Flitwick, who sat in between the two giants.

The plates in front of them 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 them than Charlie 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," Hermione said, simply.

"Bless you," said Ron.

"It truly is amazing how daft he is sometimes," Charlie muttered to Harry, making him chuckle.

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

"I'll take your word for it," said Ron, helping himself to black pudding.

The Great Hall seemed much more crowded than usual; perhaps it was because the delegations had different colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep blood red.

After they had finished eating, Charlie had been engaging in conversation with his fellow Gryffindors when suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

As he turned, his jaw dropped slightly.

There she was... Elaina Dumont.

Her appearance caused Charlie to react as though her arrival earlier had never happened. He was shocked to all hell; he thought he had, at least, an hour or so before he had to face her.

"Hey Charlie," she beamed as she took a seat next to him without an invitation to do so. "It's good to see you! How've you been?"

The boy immediately began to get nervous, so he scratched the back of his neck, "Yeah, g-good to see you, too. I've, uh, been good, and you, how've y-you been?"

"I'm doing alright," Elaina smiled, "but I have missed you, you know? I was practically counting down the days until I got to see you again."

Charlie could've sworn he heard Hermione scoff from behind him, causing him to tense even more.

"R-right," he stuttered as he forced his gaze away from the French girl, and looked across the table at Harry and Ron, who were staring back at him with curious, yet intrigued eyes, "These are my friends. Harry, Ron, this is Elaina."

"Pleasure to meet you," Elaina said sweetly as she turned to follow Charlie's gaze.

"Oh, believe us," said Ron, unable to stop gawking, "the pleasure is all ours."

Elaina laughed as Harry nudged Ron hard in the ribs, but a loud fake cough from Hermione pulled the boy's back to reality.

Charlie turned in Hermione's direction and smiled slightly, trying to relieve some tension, "And this is Hermione. Hermione, I've told you about Elaina before, haven't I?"

This was Charlie's subconscious way of telling the bushy haired girl to recall their conversation at the Quidditch World Cup, where he had openly stated that nothing was going on with Elaina — he wanted to make that clear again after her flirtatious entrance.

"Have you?" said Hermione, pretending to be coy. She shifted her gaze to the French girl, "Sorry, it's just so hard to keep up with all the things Charlie and I talk about — still, I don't recall him ever mentioning you. Which is strange, given that we're pretty close, you know?"

The boy was dumbfounded. Never in the entire time of knowing Hermione Granger has she acted in such a way. He knew of her dislike towards Elaina, of course, but he didn't think she'd be so passive aggressive about it.

"Is that right?" Elaina said as an amused smile formed on her lips before she turned to Charlie, "I should really be getting back to my friends. Fleur is probably wondering where I've buggered off to,  but Charlie, I will see you around, won't I?" — she shifted her gaze back towards Hermione slightly as though taunting her — "I'm really looking forward for us to get close while I'm here."

Hermione had clenched her fists under the table — Elaina was playing with fire; this can't be good.

Charlie didn't respond; he wasn't that stupid. Instead, he just smiled awkwardly as Elaina got up from the table, but she surprised him once again, by bending down to place a kiss on his cheek, just to be petty.

"For old times sake," she whispered.

Elaina sent one last teasing glance towards Hermione, who clenched her jaw, before she headed back over to the Ravenclaw table.

"Stupid dimbo," Hermione muttered as she watched the girl leave with a glare.

Charlie turned to the bushy haired girl immediately and furrowed his brows, "What was that?"

"Oh, please," Hermione rolled her eyes, "she was practically drooling all over you."

"And?" Charlie questioned, completely dumbfounded, "That made it okay for you to be blatantly rude, did it?"

"You've got to be joking," Hermione laughed, slightly taken aback, "I don't see you ridiculing her for her behaviour —"

"Because she wasn't being —"

"Oh, bugger off Charlie, you know exactly what she was doing, and honestly? The fact that you even entertained the idea —"

"I didn't entertain anything —"

"You sure as hell weren't not entertaining anything."

"Hermione, you're being ridiculous."

"Me? Are you kidding? Excuse me for getting worked up over the fact that the boy that I —"

"Okay enough!" Harry yelled, "You're both being stupid."

"What? I haven't done anything! She's gone completely —"

"He's being stupid! He's been blinded by —"

"Harry said enough," Ron said in a tone that was final, "I don't know what the bloody hell is going on between you two, but whatever it is, knock it off."

Both Charlie and Hermione had huffed loudly, but were thankfully saved from further conversation when Dumbledore got up to address the room once more.

"The moment has come," he said, 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 —"

"The what?" Harry muttered.

Ron shrugged, while Charlie's head had fallen down onto his hands as he sighed, still upset about what had happened.

"— 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.

"Mr. Bagamn 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 which will be under heavy supervision from our very own Minister of Magic, Fenwick Hawthorne."

Charlie's head had perked up at the mention of his father's name. To his surprise, Fenwick was staring back at him, as though waiting for his son to acknowledge his presence. The young boy immediately felt severe anxiety and sudden fear swell up inside him; his father always did have that effect on him.

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.

"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. 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. He 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, 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, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

——————————————

As the next day was Saturday, most students would normally have breakfasted late. Charlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were not alone in rising much earlier than they usually did on weekends. When they went down into the entrance hall, they saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

"Anyone put their name in yet?" Ron asked a third-year girl eagerly.

"All the Durmstrang lot," she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Harry. "I would've if it had been me... wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the Goblet just gobbed you right back out again?"

Charlie laughed, "That's a fair point."

Then, the loud foot steps of Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were heard as they hurried down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited.

"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Just taken it."

"What?" said Ron.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains," said Fred.

"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Lee, grinning broadly.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," said Hermione warningly. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."

Fred, George, and Lee ignored her.

"Ready?" Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then — I'll go first —"

Charlie watched, fascinated, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words, Fred Weasley — Hogwarts. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a split second Charlie thought it had worked — George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after Fred — but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I did warn you," said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madame Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like yours."

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter, and Charlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, also chortling, went in to breakfast.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning, but still seemed very patriotic towards Hogwarts. Charlie led the way over to Dean and Seamus, who were discussing Hogwarts students of seventeen or over who might be entering.

"There's a rumor going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," Dean told them as they sat down. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth."

Harry shook his head in disgust, "We can't have a Slytherin champion!"

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory," said Seamus contemptuously. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."

"Listen!" said Hermione suddenly.

People were cheering out in the entrance hall. They all swiveled around in their seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way.

Angelina came over to them, sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"You're kidding!" said Ron, looking impressed.

"Are you seventeen, then?" asked Harry.

Charlie joked, "'Course she is, can't see a beard, can you?"

"I had my birthday last week," said Angelina.

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

"Thanks, Hermione," said Angelina, smiling at her.

"What d'you reckon'll happen to the ones who aren't chosen?" Ron muttered to his friends as they watched a veela-girl move to drop her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. "Reckon they'll go back to school, or hang around to watch the tournament?"

"Dunno," said Harry. "Hang around, I suppose... Madame Maxime's staying to judge, isn't she?"

"Bet Charlie would love that," Hermione said viciously towards the boy, "wouldn't you?"

Charlie simply rolled his eyes and sighed, "Would you stop? I'm not arguing with you about this anymore."

Harry and Ron shared an unamused glance, leaving their two friends, bickering in the Hall as they proceeded to their next class.

———————————————

After classes, the four Gryffindors made their way back into the candlelit Great Hall. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. Fred and George — clean-shaven again — seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.

The feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, Charlie didn't seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as he would have normally.

Judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, everyone simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions.

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.

"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 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...

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

"No surprises there!" yelled Ron as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Charlie saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

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!"

"Look! That must be the friend Elaina was talking about!" Harry shouted as the girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

He was right; Charlie saw Elaina on her feet across the Hall, cheering loudly for her friend as Fleur had vanished into the side chamber. Silence fell over the Hall again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it.

The Hogwarts champion was 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, but stopped as he read the name in his head first —

No, no, no, it can't be...

That's impossible —

Albus surveyed the room and his eyes eventually fell on a pair of anticipating brown eyes. His entire body tensed as he stared at the boy and then looked back down at the paper in disbelief before he spoke in a hesitant whisper...

"Ch-Charlie Hawthorne."

—————————————
Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*

Oh, shit. Things just got real...

Hope you enjoyed ;)

Much love, until next time!

xo, Selena