It was a calm, peaceful day, and I was minding my own business in the library, reading a book on runes, after all I still needed a seal for Excalibur and having a little extra knowledge might come handy.
Anyway, I was deep into deciphering some complicated rune combination when I caught a glimpse of bushy brown hair out of the corner of my eye. Yep, Hermione was making a beeline for me.
Before she could even open her mouth, I decided to save us both some time. "Yes, Hermione, I know what S.P.E.W. is. And no, I don't want to join. And if you're here to tell me that I should also support house-elf rights, let me stop you there. Your so-called club isn't a club—it's a full-blown revolution for people who don't even want it."
Hermione stopped in her tracks, blinking at me like a fish out of water. "I… I wasn't going to say that!" she stammered.
"Sure you weren't." I smirked, turning back to my book.
She huffed, muttering something under her breath about "lost causes" and stormed off. Mission accomplished.
---
Later that day, the air in the castle was buzzing with anticipation. Why? Because today was the day Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were arriving. You'd think the staff would have told us exactly when they were showing up, but nope, we were all just herded outside like sheep to stand in the cold and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
By the time we saw any sign of life, I was seriously considering heading back inside for a cup of tea and some biscuits. But then the skies above us darkened, and this massive flying carriage, pulled by literal winged horses, appeared. Beauxbatons.
The carriage landed with all the grace of a diva making her grand entrance, and out stepped Madame Maxime. If you've never seen her, let me paint you a picture—she's a literal giantess, towering over everyone like some kind of royal colossus. She swept down the stairs, her presence screaming "I'm better than you" without her saying a word.
Behind her, the Beauxbatons students stepped out. Now, I don't mean to sound shallow, but they looked like they'd just walked off the cover of Witch Weekly. Flawless skin, perfect hair, designer robes—honestly, it was unfair. I heard Ron whisper something about beauty, and for once, I didn't blame him.
While we were all still gawking, the sound of rushing water drew our attention to the Black Lake. A massive ship, like something straight out of Pirates of the Caribbean, broke through the surface, water cascading off its sides. Durmstrang.
Their arrival was the complete opposite of Beauxbatons—dark, dramatic, and intimidating. You could almost hear ominous music playing in the background. When the gangplank dropped, out marched Igor Karkaroff, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Behind him were the Durmstrang students, all wearing fur-lined cloaks and looking like they could bench-press a troll.
And then came Viktor Krum. The Quidditch star, the seeker, the man who made every broomstick look cooler just by touching it (according to Ron). He walked past us without so much as a glance.
"Is he always this dramatic?" I whispered to Ron, who was standing next to me.
"Pretty much," Ron replied, not taking his eyes off Krum.
---
After all the introductions and unnecessary posturing were over, we were allowed back into the castle. The Great Hall had been decked out for the occasion, with long tables for the guests and food that looked fancy enough to make the Queen jealous.
As I sat down, Ron leaned over to me. "Did you see that girl from Beauxbatons? The blonde one? She smiled at me!"
"Ron," I said, patting him on the shoulder, "I hate to break it to you, but she was probably just being polite."
Ron glared at me, muttering something about "no faith," while Hermione rolled her eyes and told him to focus on the feast.
---
The feast had been its usual affair—lots of food, students gawking at the new arrivals, and the occasional stink eye between Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and Hogwarts students. But the real star of the show? The Goblet of Fire. Dumbledore brought it out, along with the Triwizard Cup, placing them in full view like trophies in a window display.
Thanks to my clone's anonymous tip to Madam Bones, Barty Crouch Jr. was already enjoying a not-so-relaxing stay in Azkaban. So, I knew the whole "Voldemort resurrection plan" wasn't happening. But I still had my suspicions about Karkaroff. If anyone was sketchy enough to meddle with the Goblet, it was that guy.
---
The next morning, the Goblet of Fire was put on display in the Great Hall. It sat there, the flame flickering ominously, while everyone pretended they weren't sneaking glances at it every five seconds.
Names started flying into the Goblet as students rushed to toss their parchment in, each one looking more hopeful than the last. Most of them had no chance, of course, but hey, dream big, right?
---
Later that night, the moment of truth arrived. The entire school gathered in the Great Hall, buzzing with anticipation. The Goblet's flames turned blue, spitting out names one by one.
"Viktor Krum!" Dumbledore announced first. No surprises there. Durmstrang cheered like they'd just won the Quidditch World Cup.
"Fleur Delacour!" came next. The Beauxbatons students broke into applause, Fleur looking as radiant and smug as ever.
Then it was time for Hogwarts' champion.
Cedric Digg—Wait, no. Scratch that.
"Arthur Wayne!"
Yeah, thats right. My name came out of the Goblet.
I'll admit, I was expecting that. Dumbledore's Age Line was supposed to keep underage students out, but apparently, my Magic Resistance didn't care about silly things like age-restriction spells. Of course, I wasn't about to share that little detail with anyone.
Instead, I smirked and made my way up to the front, basking in the mix of confusion, envy, and outright disbelief on everyone's faces.
---
Just when everyone thought the drama was over, the Goblet flared up again.
"Harry Potter!"
You could hear a pin drop. Then the whispering started. People were looking around like Harry had just committed a crime because from my demeanor students could see I intentionally put my name in it unlike Harry who somehow bypassed not only the age line like me but also the champion limit.
Professor Lupin looked utterly baffled, as did the other professors. The only one who didn't look surprised? Me.
I knew this was coming, of course. Someone had tampered with the Goblet—my money was still on Karkaroff—and Harry was now an unwilling participant in this dangerous game.
---
After the initial chaos, the four champions were herded into a room to "discuss" the situation. That discussion was cut short when Dumbledore stormed in, looking like he was ready to flip a table.
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?" he demanded, his piercing gaze sweeping over Harry and me.
Before Harry could stammer out a reply, I raised a hand casually. "Yup. I put my name in. Can't speak for Harry, though."
Dumbledore frowned, clearly not expecting such a straightforward answer.
"Harry," I said, turning to him, "take an oath. Prove you didn't put your name in the Goblet or ask anyone to do it for you."
Harry nodded, raising his wand and swearing on his magic. The golden glow of the oath left no room for doubt—Harry was innocent.
The professors exchanged worried glances, clearly struggling to make sense of the situation.
---
After things settled down (well, as much as they could in a situation like this), I leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"Look," I said, addressing the room. "It's obvious someone tampered with the Goblet. We can either waste time pointing fingers or focus on making sure no one gets killed during this ridiculous tournament."
Dumbledore sighed, his expression softening. "Arthur, do you have any idea why your name was chosen?"
I shrugged. "Not really. Maybe the Goblet liked my handwriting?"
That earned a few chuckles, lightening the tension slightly.
---
Once we were dismissed, Harry and I walked back to the common room together.
"Why do these things always happen to me?" he muttered, clearly frustrated.
"Because you're Harry Potter," I said, smirking. "It's basically in your contract. Hero of the Wizarding World, Boy Who Lived, Magnet for Trouble—it's all part of the package."
Harry rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling.
As we entered the common room, the buzz of gossip was deafening. People swarmed us, bombarding Harry and me with questions and accusations. I slipped away, leaving him to deal with the chaos.
---
Back in my room, I couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. The tournament wasn't going to be much of a challenge, no doubt about it. But it was also an opportunity—to have a little fun along the say before finally leaving the world.
One thing was for sure: things were about to get interesting.
---Note
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