Chapter Thirteen: Hoodwinking the Goblet of Fire
As they walked back up the steps to the castle, everyone was whispering, or exclaiming loudly in Ron's case, about how Viktor Krum was here, at Hogwarts. Most students were astounded that the best Seeker was still in school. Most people don't join national teams until they leave school. But then again, most schools didn't have a four sided, inter house championship.
As they recrossed the entrance hall with the rest of the students, Harish even saw a few people jumping up and down, trying to get a better look at Krum. 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 they passed the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick. She gave a haughty sniff and pranced inside the Great Hall. Harish followed with amusement.
They made their way over to the Slytherin table and sat in the very center. The students from Durmstrang were still standing in the doorway, as if they were unsure where to sit. The Beauxbatons, on the other hand had already placed themselves at the Ravenclaw table and were staring about the Great Hall glumly. Three of them were still clutching scarves or shawls over their heads.
"It's not that cold," Hermione said defensively. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?"
Finally, the Durmstrang lot were led over to the Slytherin table.
"Mind if ve sit here?" Krum said in a thick accent.
Harish shrugged and gestured for him to sit. They did so, Krum sitting to Hermione's left. All of his buddies sat around him. Then they all began pulling off their furs and staring up at the starry black sky with expressions of interest. A couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.
"It's bewitched to look that way," Harish said, catching Krum looking up at the sky.
Krum nodded.
"It must have taken some difficult spells to pull that off," he said.
Harish shrugged again. "I guess none of us have really thought about it much. You get used to it."
Krum had a dubious expression on his face, but he didn't say anything in reply. Harish glanced up at the staff table to see Filch adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion. Harish was surprised to see that he added four chairs; two on either side of Dumbledore's. Harish leaned over to George.
"Why is he adding those chairs, do you reckon?" he asked. "There are only two extra people."
"Well, some Ministry workers will be judging," Fred replied.
"Dad was saying how worked up they all were," George added.
Harish nodded.
Once all of the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professors Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons all leapt to their feet. A few Hogwarts students laughed. The French party seemed unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until 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," Dumbledore said, beaming around at the foreigners. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both enjoyable and rather comfortable."
One of the girls from Beauxbatons gave a small, derisive laugh. Hermione bristled angrily.
"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Dumbledore continued. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"
He sat down, and Harish saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage the old man in conversation.
The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. Harish couldn't help but notice that there was a much more of a variety of food that usual, several of them definitely foreign.
"What's that?" the twins asked, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.
"Bouillabaisse," Hermione replied.
"Bless you," Fred said, serving himself some chicken.
A few of the Durmstrang students laughed, their mouths full of food.
"It's French," Hermione scolded. "I had some on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."
"I'll take your word for it," Fred said, now dumping potatoes onto his plate.
It seemed much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students. Perhaps it was because of their differently colored uniforms that 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.
While Harish was talking with Hermione and Krum, the twins were looking around at the foreign students. George caught sight of one girl and his mouth fell open. She had long, silvery long hair, clear blue eyes, and perfectly straight teeth. He wordlessly poked Fred in the back and pointed. Then Fred made a face identical to his twin's.
"She's a veela!" George said hoarsely to his twin.
Harish turned and looked as well. He thought she looked rather pretty, though he didn't react the way the twins had. Hermione and Draco turned as well.
"Of course she isn't!" Hermione said tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her!"
But she was quite right about that. As the girl walked to her table, carrying a dish of something, many boys' heads turned and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless.
"I'm not so sure about that!" Harish said, laughing and pointing to Ron, who had gone purple in the face.
"Well, Draco isn't goggling at her," Ginny added.
Hermione nodded.
"Well he doesn't exactly count, does he?" Harish asked, cutting his meat.
"Why's that?" Ginny, Hermione, and Daphne asked.
At the same time Harish replied, "He's part veela," Astoria said sweetly, "He has me!"
Everyone turned and looked at her. Draco looked uncomfortable again.
"Look!" he said, pointing to the staff table and trying to change the topic. "Look who just arrived."
The two extra seats were now filled. One by Ludo Bagman, who was by Karkaroff, and the other was filled by Barty Crouch, who sat by Madame Maxime.
"They must the other judges," Harish said.
Not long after the last of the judges arrived, the golden plates were wiped clean after the students had devoured three courses and a plate full of desserts. Then, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Everyone felt a thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. The twins were staring at Dumbledore with great concentration, and Harish was staring at him with great interest. Draco, on the other hand, was practically vibrating in his seat from excitement.
"The moment has come," Dumbledore said, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, allow me to introduce Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of Department of International Magical Cooperation"—there was a bit of polite applause—"and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of Department of Magical Games and Sports."
The applause was much louder this time. Either because of his fame for being a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likeable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Mr. Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. His toothbrush mustache and severe part 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 said, "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 and said, "The casket, then, Mr. Filch."
Filch, who had been lurking in a corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excitement 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, 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 their ability to cope with danger."
At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so thick that no one seemed to be breathing.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on, "one from each school. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tasks and the champion with the highest total after the third task will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
The old man took out his wand and tapped the casket three times. The lid creaked open slowly. The headmaster 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 seen clearly around the Hall.
"Anyone wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours to put their names forth."
People began whispering excitedly.
"Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it had judged most worthy to represent their schools, the goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, 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."
Harish and the twins growled.
"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 chosen, 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 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."
So they all returned to the common room. Everyone came up around Harish, asking if he was going to enter the tournament. Harish nodded and set his plan into action. That night, three boys over the age of seventeen left the Slytherin common room and put three slips into the goblet.
The next morning, the Great Hall was decorated with a cloud of live bats and leering pumpkins that floated in every corner. As they sat down, they discussed the Goblet of Fire. All of the Durmstrang students had already put their names in, along with Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff. Then, they all stopped as there was a cheering out in the entrance hall. They all turned to see Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall.
Not long after that, each of the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames.
Then, everyone returned for the Halloween feast. Harish didn't enjoy it as much as he normally would have. Maybe it was because it was the second feast they had had within the past two days, or maybe they all were simply impatient to find out who the three champions that had been chosen were. All the same, the feast seemed to go on for ages. All around the Hall, Harish could see craning necks, edgy faces, fidgeting, and students even standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet.
At long last, the golden plates finally emptied, returning to their original spotless state. There was a sharp upswing in noise, which fell instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Karkaroff and Madame Maxime were looking as tense and expectant as all of the students. Bagman was beaming around at them, and Crouch simply looked bored.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore addressed then. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the front of the Hall and go into the next chamber"—he indicated to the door behind the staff table—"where they will be receiving their first instructions."
He took out his wand and extinguished all of the candles with one wave, plunging the into darkness. The only light was coming from the blue flames that were dancing along the brim of the goblet. It was almost painful to look at as it seemed even brighter. Everyone watched, waiting…A few people checked their watches….
Then, the flames in the goblet suddenly turned red. Sparks began to fly from it. The 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 slip of parchment and held it in the light of the flames, which had turned blue once more.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read in a strong clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."
A storm of applause swept through the hall as Krum stood up. Harish shook his hand before he headed off down the aisle, along the staff table, and into the door that led out of the hall.
"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff boomed, loud enough that everyone could hear him over the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"
The clapping and chattering died down as the goblet turned red again. A second piece of paper shot out of it, propelled by the flames.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," Dumbledore read, "is Fleur Delacour!"
"It's her!" Fred shouted hoarsely.
Harish rolled his eyes and clapped his hands together slowly as the twins applauded furiously. Hermione rolled her eyes as well, at almost the exact same moment. Then, she glanced over at the Ravenclaw table.
"Oh look," she said. "They're all disappointed."
"Disappointed?" Harish asked, glancing over at them. "Don't you think that is a bit of an understatement?"
And it was true. A few of them had laid their heads down on the table and their shoulders shook with sobs.
When Fleur Delacour had disappeared as well, silence fell again. This time it was so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion would be next…
And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showering out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.
He stared at it for the briefest of seconds. The he cleared his throat and read, "Harish Blake." The Hall was so silent, that this could be heard perfectly well by all. Harish put on a confused look, but on the inside he was not surprised. He was perfect after all; how could anyone else be chosen? The teen was lost for a few seconds as he relished in his victory. Then, he was shaken back into awareness when Dumbledore called, "Harish Blake!"
Harish finally stood up and swallowed visibly for show. No trace of his ecstasy was visible. Then, a heartbeat later, all of the Slytherins began screaming and stamping, clapping and cheering. Dean Thomas joined in, and soon a few others from other houses did as well. The only student who looked unhappy was Ron.
But, as Harish made his way up the aisle, he caught glimpse of Dumbledore's face. It was slightly disconcerting as the twinkle was completely gone from the man's eyes. He was watching Harish with suspicion and anger. The rest of the staff was as well. As Harish passed him and the goblet, the hall suddenly became silent. On the floor, the light emitted from the goblet changed from blue to red. Harish saw this, turned, and looked at the goblet as it spat out a fourth and final piece of paper.
Dumbledore took it in his hand and opened it up.
"Harish Blake," he read, almost to himself.