October 31st, 1995
Black ink ran in narrow lines over yellowed parchment, taking sharp bends around corners, climbing up stairs and mounting high towers, curling into tiny, motionless letters over ink footprints all over the Map.
"Now, what do we have here?"
Tristan tapped his wand over the name that floated right in the passageway leading to the sixth-years' dorms. He trailed the tip a bit lower to the two further names positioned at the entrance to the Slytherin common room.
"Warrington, Pucey, and Flint. What could the three of you be doing out of bed at this early hour?"
He folded the Map and stored it securely underneath his robes. The cool, smooth fabric of the Invisibility Cloak wrapped itself around him before he twisted the handle of his door.
Sparse torches cast a dim light down the passageway leading to his dorm. A shadow leaned against the door a few meters away from him, showering the stone tiles underneath him with luminous sparks as he polished his wand with a white handkerchief.
'Looks like you need a little break from watchers-duty, mate.'
A bright red flash flickered through the corridor, hitting the shadow square in the chest. He watched Warrington plunge down against the wall, his wand scattering away over tiles.
Tristan summoned the piece of wood into his open palm and conjured a fluffy blanket for its owner, wrapping the fabric gently around him by twisting his wrist. With an additional pillow between Warrington's head and the rough wall, and his wand back in his palm, the seventh-year looked almost comfortable.
'One down, two to go.' Tristan slowly advanced into the common room.
Glowing coals still crackled in the corner and hushed whispers sounded from ahead of him. The two most comfortable armchairs had been carried away from the fireplace towards the entrance of the common room. A game of gobstones was in full swing, both competitors leaning over the board in a heated argument of whispers.
"I'm telling you, I just witnessed you fucking cheat for the third time in a row!" the right one hissed, pointing at a spot on the board.
"It wasn't on purpose!" the other one retorted. "I'm just growing fucking tired at this point."
Tristan crept down the stairs and drew closer, pointing the tip of his wand out from underneath the cloak.
'Confundo!'
Two faint ripples of air hit his older peers square in the face. Their expressions turned somewhat dreamily for but a second.
"There!" Pucey hissed angrily: "You just did it again!"
A muffled quarrel broke out between his watchers over which one of them had cheated. Tristan carefully tip-toed passed them and out of the common room into the cold dungeons, unfolding the Map once more. He strolled past his Head of House's office and up the stairs to the Great Hall, holding his wand at the ready and checking the Map every so often.
The doors to the hall were left slightly open. Tristan slipped past them and stepped into the bright moonlight that shone down on him from the open ceiling.
There it stood, right in the center of the Great Hall, on the very stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a ten feet circle around it. Tristan stored the Map in his pockets and prowled closer to study it.
Patterns of runes glowed from within the golden circle, carved into the stone tiles of the hall. The very same imprints glowed from the base of the Goblet in the circle's center. Tristan crouched down to one knee and gradually touched the tip of his wand to one of them.
Magical flared up in a great swell before settling in countless tightly threaded webs of strings, curling around a hot pulsing center. The strings struck out and tugged at his magic, sucking in a tiny part of him anytime he attempted to poke through.
'They used the magic of the Castle to detect anyone passing who doesn't meet the requirements.' His eyes roamed to the runes at the bottom of the Goblet. 'One might be allowed to pass, but I bet the Goblet spits the name straight back out if you're too young.'
He pulled off his cloak and placed it on the floor below him.
'I meet the requirements anyway, so I best not provoke the Unspeakables by crossing their fancy wards without them even noticing...'
Stifling a tiny flare of unease underneath a deep gulp of air, he took a step forward and crossed the golden lines. Nothing happened, aside from a faint tingle itching over his skin, leaving his hairs standing in a goosebump. Tristan stepped closer to the Goblet and took out a small slip of parchment.
Tristan Ignotus Peverell
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
"To eternal glory and beyond..."
He dropped the slip in the blue-white flames. It flared bright red for a second, spitting golden sparks over the wooden brim.
'Let's get out of here.'
He threw the Cloak back over his shoulders and bolted back down to the Slytherin common room, entering it through the concealed entrance. His two watchers had struck up yet another game of gobstones. Both stared at the board with grim faces, observing each other warily every so often.
Back in his room, Tristan shuffled through the pages of one of the tomes he brought from the Black Library. "I'd rather kill this time down in the Chamber but I need to be seen leaving my dorm and the common room in a few hours." He leaped onto his bed, summoning parchment and quill from the table across him. "I suppose working on my legilimency will do just fine for the time being."
The hours passed in a ruffle of parchments and scratching of his quill. Murky light spilled through the lonely window in the corner and soaked his room in the gloomy greenish glow of the lakebed. Eventually, it got brighter and Tristan paused his studies.
"Tempus."
Purple runes twisted into the letter eight.
Suddenly loud noises echoed from outside his dorm. Tristan stifled a yawn with a wide grin and stored his research away. He quickly dressed in his school uniform before strolling out into the hallway.
All of the sixth-year students were up and outside their dorms already. Tristan slipped past them to where the noises rang from.
"What the fuck are you doing, Cassius?!"
Abraxas Malfoy had his wand drawn and stood over a very dazzled-looking Warrington. The latter seemed like he wished for nothing more than to vanish underneath the soft blanket covering him. His hair and face were soaked, as were the stone tiles below him.
"I- I don't…" Warrington fluttered heavily, and his eyes found Tristan among the small circle of spectators.
"I- it must have been- he-"
Malfoy whirled. His cold gray eyes bored into Tristan and his face twisted into a sneer. "Hand me your wand, Cassius!"
"My- my wand? What- why?"
Malfoy ripped it from Warrington's loose grip, pointing his own at the tip. "Priori Incantatem!"
The ethereal outlines of a squishy pillow, a big fluffy blanket, and a plain white handkerchief, emerged from the wand.
The crowd began to chuckle all around them.
Malfoy silenced them with a sharp glare before taking a deep breath and running his hand through his sleek white-blonde hair. "I will have a word with you for this, Cassius! Get up, now!"
'That worked out pretty well.'
Tristan strolled down toward the common room and made his way up to the Great Hall along with the rest of his House.
A cloud of live bats fluttered around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Dozens of students dressed in their uniforms were already seated at their tables, empty plates in front of them, and their gazes fixed on the center of the Great Hall.
Tristan found Valeria right at their usual spot by the end of the Slytherin table and headed over to her. His sister's golden curls sparkled in the sparse rays of sunshine the late October morning gifted them.
"I heard some noises from the sixth-year dorms before I left earlier," she hummed as he slid onto the bench opposite her: "Anything you want to tell me, brother dear?"
"Cassius Warrington was found sound asleep underneath a thick blanket out in the hallway," Tristan shrugged and helped himself to some oats.
"I really wonder what he was doing out there." She rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, it wasn't too far from your dorm, was it?"
"Actually, no..." Tristan feigned surprise and scratched his chin. "How did you know?"
Valeria merely snorted, her gaze wandering to the center of the Great Hall where the Goblet's bluish flames swayed and flared around the wooden brim. "I take it he wasn't successful in whatever he had tried to achieve by setting camp outside your dorm?"
"Not really, no," Tristan swallowed a spoonful of oats, the ghost of a smile passing his lips, "he wasn't successful at all."
She turned back to him, shooting him a pointed look. "Mother and Father won't like this, Tristan. The tournament was abandoned for very good reasons. Only last night we learned that the Minister of Magic, who by the way is on a bloody war path against our entire family, will be one of the judges. Can't you see how much you expose yourself by contending?"
"Contending?" Tristan grinned over his cup, "I had much higher hopes than being a mere contender in this competition. But anyways... tell me, if I had actually lost all my senses and decided to compete, who would I be up against as of now?"
Valeria nodded past his shoulder. "Look no further, brother..."
The entire Durmstrang delegation, led by their Headmaster, marched into the Great Hall in firm steps. Silence fell over the Hogwarts students as their foreign guests wordlessly lined up in front of the Goblet. A very sure-looking Viktor Krum was the first to place their slip of parchment into the blue flames.
Once the name was submitted, the contenders joined their peers in a tight ring around those who remained, shooting intimidating grimaces into the crowd of Hogwarts students. Then they took their seats at the Slytherin table.
"How long do you think they practiced this back at Durmstrang?" Tristan chuckled.
"Well, it looked better than whatever might follow now," Valeria sighed.
Fanfares sounded from behind him. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan from Gryffindor paraded into the Great Hall, accompanied by much applause from their lions.
"Thank you, everybody, thank you!" Both redheads shook a few hands before they all lined up by the circle of golden runes, each grinning broadly.
They stood there for a moment, rocking on their toes like divers preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon them, they took a great breath, stepped over the line, and lazily flicked their slips of paper into the flames.
All of Gryffindor cheered loudly for their housemates when the Goblet spewed red sparks and accepted them.
Tristan glanced up to the head table, where McGonagall mustered up all her patience not to lash out. Pale blue blurred in the corner of his eye and a hushed silence fell over the Great Hall.
The students from Beauxbatons strode through the giant doors, thick scarves wrapped around their necks. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire immediately stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly.
Madame Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the ward line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames.
Like a moth to a flame, Tristan found himself drawn to the very last contender. The veela girl was taller than most of her female peers. Her head was held high in pride, with a veil of platinum hair held back by a high ponytail that still fell to the middle of her back. Her eyes were firmly fixed on the Goblet, almost blazing in triumph like the blue flames that swallowed her slip.
'She's definitely determined...'
Tristan watched her take a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where she helped herself to some breakfast.
'Such confidence doesn't stem from just anywhere. It will likely be her that's chosen for Beauxbatons...'
An elbow poked him in the side.
"Stop staring at her like some perv!"
He tore his eyes away. "I'm not enthralled by her, I'm just curious."
"Yeah, curious about certain assets," Valeria huffed: "You look just like any of the other idiots."
"I'm pretty sure I'm not drooling yet, unlike Ronald Weasley." Tristan glanced down at his wristwatch and finished his glass of pumpkin juice with a big gulp before he stood. "Anyway, time for me to head to classes. I'll see you later, baby sister."
He headed up for Charms.
"The Water-Making Spell conjures clean, drinkable water from the end of the wand," Flitwick began his lecture with an exciting squeak.
He pointed his wand at a few flower pots by the window and took careful aim. A thin stream propelled across the classroom, splashing against the pot and windows above, and drenching the entire ledge.
"Have a go, have a go, everybody." He passed out a set of rough, wooden-carved goblets to each student: "Try it verbally until you get the hang of it. Then switch to nonverbal."
'No point in holding back here.' Tristan lazily flicked his wand at the goblet: 'The majority of purebloods have been taught this spell way before sixth-year by their parents anyways.'
He practiced filling his cup a few times.
'I wonder if I can manipulate the temperature of the water as well.'
Tristan waited until the professor had passed his table and he received the very same encouraging nod Flitwick granted him any lesson, before pointing his wand at the empty goblet once more.
A bite of frost crept up inside him, racing through his veins like a cold chill until his skin prickled.
'Aguamenti!'
A sharp, thin icicle stabbed from his wand and punctured through the wooden goblet with ease.
"Reparo!" He hastily whispered, glancing over his shoulder to check if anyone had seen him.
'I really need to stop practicing these kinds of things in class. I have a huge empty Chamber with nothing else in it for that now...'
With the ring of the bell, he quickly packed up his belongings and followed the other sixth-years down the giant staircase to Transfigurations.
'Besides, I should keep up my play just a bit longer.' Tristan slipped onto his bench in the back of the classroom. 'Once the tasks start there will be no more holding back. I can finally prove myself...'
"We shall expand in our project on human transfigurations." McGonagall changed the large windows looking over the grounds of the Castle into a solid wall of mirrors with a flick of her wand. "I expect many of you to be somewhat proficient in today's topic-" she flared her nostrils, "-because we shall make attempts at modifying our hair and its structure."
Most of Tristan's female peers giggled in delight and promptly set to work, studying the results of their efforts in the large mirrors all around them.
He could feel McGonagall's cat-like gaze on him during the entire lesson, seemingly waiting for him to slip up once more. Tristan dutifully stuck to the assignment and repeatedly altered the length, color, and structure of his hair. He gave himself a mane of flaming red, much to the amusement of the Weasley twins, or alternatively curls of sparkling gold that rivaled his mother's and sisters'.
After a late lunch, he headed up to Defense, his last class of the day. Loud noises and cheers rang from outside the classroom when he was already seated.
"Well done, Ced! I'm sure you'll be chosen, who else could it be?!"
Diggory entered the class with a stupid grin plastered over his face. He was almost shoved by a mob of Hufflepuffs that clapped him smartly on the shoulder and took their seats at the front of the class in loud chatter.
'So he finally entered.'
With the Goblet of Fire revealing the champions tonight, the exciting chatter of his peers had only increased through the afternoon. Now, with Diggory contending, it barely faded, even when Professor Vance entered the classroom.
The stately-looking witch held up her hands, granting Diggory and his friends a good-natured smile. "Since regular classes would hardly yield any effective results, perhaps I can capture your attention by-"
A knock sounded from outside the door to the classroom, then it was opened. Half a dozen red-robed figures confidently stepped inside, shooting curious glances around.
"Welcome, welcome!" Professor Vance waved them in. "Don't be shy, feel free to join us."
"Da, thank you."
The class immediately broke out in hushed whispers when it recognized the prominent brows and hooked nose of Viktor Krum, who led his peers inside to the back of the classroom, straight to the empty bench next to Tristan.
Professor Vance beamed from ear to ear. "As I was saying, to capture your attention let's do something stimulating and action-packed. A mock duel!"
The class hummed excitingly.
Tristan glanced over to Viktor Krum, who was translating what was said to two of his peers that didn't understand. Their dark eyes lit up and their lips curled into amused grins.
"English duel, da?" they chuckled.
Tristan shook his head with a barely conceived snort. He turned his attention back to the front and to Professor Vance, ignoring the narrowing eyes of his foreign guests on him.
"Now then?" The Professor spread her arms: "Do I have a volunteer?"
"Come on, Ced!"
The 'puffs slapped Diggory on the shoulder until he raised his hand with a roll of his eyes and a stupid grin.
The Weasley Twins and Angelina Jones from Gryffindor, as well as Roger Davies and a few more Ravenclaws, lifted their arms too.
"I volunteer as well, yes," a strong German-accented voice barked through the classroom.
Tristan glanced at the tall, broad-shouldered, and brown-haired boy who rose from the bench of Durmstrangs, receiving chuckles of encouragement from his peers.
The face of the Hogwarts students fell, as did their previously raised arms.
'This will be interesting.' Tristan leaned back on the bench and placed his hands behind his head as he watched the scene play out with a grin.
Professor Vance looked deeply troubled. "I- I mean no disrespect, Mr..."
"Wagner." The German tugged up his sleeves, displaying thick, hairy forearms. "Hans Wagner, yes."
"Well, uhm, Mr. Wagner, I'm actually not sure-" Vance fidgeted with her fingers, "I'm not confident the heads of our schools would sanction a duel so early after your arrival."
"It's just mock duel, yes? Professor Karkaroff say it's fine!" the German grunted, pulling out a short black wand and thrusting it at Tristan: "I challenge him, yes?"
Heads snapped to Tristan who raised his eyebrow in surprise.
'Wait, me?'
"Now, Mr. Wagner..." Vance held up her hands and shook her head, "Mr. Peverell wasn't among those who raised his hand and volunteered. I can't-"
"No, it's fine..." Tristan stood up with a bright, sharp smile, not breaking eye contact with the German. "As our esteemed guest said, it's just a mock duel, so there's nothing to worry about, is there?"
Vance still looked conflicted, biting her lips for a few seconds. "Fine. If you agree." She cleared the front of the classroom with a wave of her wand. "But I don't want to see anything more dangerous than a stunning hex from either of you. Do you understand, Mr. Wagner?"
"No dangerous, yes." The German nodded, the ghost of a sneer passing his features.
Some of Wagner's friends snickered behind him. "Schau ob der Engländer Feuer mag, Hans!"
'Feuer?' Tristan smothered a smile as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his uniform, fingers briefly curling around the slim silver chain of his amulet: 'How very fortunate that I just learned how to counter that.'
"Take position, please!" Vance ushered them to the front, pointing at opposite sides of the classroom.
Tristan did as directed and walked past the deep frowns of his classmates. He turned and faced his opponent, who had already taken up a stance and flexed the muscles of his arms and shoulders. Wagner's cold cool blue eyes narrowed on Tristan and his wand was thrust forward, pointing straight at his heart.
Tristan inclined his head and let his wand glide into his palm. He glanced toward the class one last time. The anticipation was palpable now. Even Diggory had his stupid trademark grin wiped from his face and only the Weasley Twins seemed their usual selves, each betting on the outcome with Lee Jordan.
"Ready?" Professor Vance asked each of them, waiting for their nods of confirmation.
"Begin!"
Wagner immediately stepped forward. "Stupefy!"
Tristan feigned shock and hurriedly dodged low, coming back up with his wand held clumsily in both hands. A wide sneer spread over the German's lips. Another bright flash of light zipped through the classroom.
Tristan leaned to the side, feeling the hot tingle of magic flash past his cheek. He raised an eyebrow at his contender.
"Mach ihn fertig, Hans!" The Durmstrangs cheered from the back of the class, balling their fists at him. "Zeig ihm endlich Feuer!"
Wagner snarled in irritation when Tristan dodged yet another spell. He finally thrust his wand forward with a growl. "Incendio!"
The first row of spectators edged back in their seats as red, bellowing flames spewed across the classroom and snapped at Tristan with angry hisses.
'I've seen much scarier fire lately, mate...'
Tristan parted the incoming flames to either side of him with a long slash of his wand. A hot, sharp thrill of adrenaline raced through him as the heat seared past his face.
"Aguamenti!"
A fountain of water splashed from his wand like dozens of combined muggle garden hoses. Wagner's flames gutted out in angry hisses and great puffs of white steam as he was hit square in the chest, knocking him back into the opposite wall.
He stumbled to the floor in a large puddle of cold spring water, spitting, gurgling, and panting heavily with his red uniform drenched from head to toe.
Tristan summoned his opponent's wand with a lazy flick and tiptoed through the puddle of water, passing his rather dazed professor. "Sorry for the mess, Ma'am. We've only just learned the charm today, you see..."
Vance swallowed thickly. "That's- that's fine, Mr. Peverell. I'm glad you weren't hurt."
"Mr. Wagner?" Tristan held out his hand to the shivering German. "Are you alright?"
Wagner grunted something incomprehensive under his breath and knocked Tristan's hand aside, heaving himself up by the ledge of the window with a stifled groan.
"Suit yourself I suppose," Tristan shrugged unbothered. He tossed the wand back over to him. "Und viel Glück beim nächsten Mal, Hans."
The German's eyes grew wide before they narrowed to impossibly tiny slits. Wagner dried his uniform with charms until it steamed, his knuckles whitened around his wand, before trotting back over to the Durmstrangs. All of them, including Viktor Krum, shot Tristan murderous looks as they exchanged hushed whispers.
'I'm so glad this year isn't a popularity contest.' Tristan strode straight past the deep frowns of his peers that met him from each bench, except for one Weasley twin, who looked very pleased with the outcome of the duel and tossed a galleon into the air.
"Well then," Vance loudly cleared her throat in the front after she vanished the puddles of water. "Thank you to both competitors-" she glanced down at her watch, "-but, I think that's enough for today. You may all head back down to the Great Hall, for the Halloween Feast and the other big announcement." She shot them a wink and left through the door to her office.
Tristan purposefully took his time whilst packing his things and waited for the Durmstrangs to leave the room first.
'Something tells me Hans didn't enjoy his first taste of international magical cooperation and friendships across borders as much as I did...'
He kept a small distance from his peers as they all made their way down to the lower floors.
The candle-lit Great Hall was almost full already, utter darkness loomed behind the large windows and high ceiling, almost like a giant black carpet had been wrapped around them.
The Goblet of Fire had been moved as well; it now stood in front of McGonagall's empty chair at the teachers' table. Tristan slid onto the empty bench next to his sister, who leaned over some homework.
"How were classes?" she murmured.
"Very wet," Tristan grinned.
"What do you mean wet?" Her head snapped up and she parted her golden curls to glance at him. Her gaze shifted over his shoulder and she frowned. "And why is everybody glancing over at you and whispering? Better yet, why are the Durmstrangs glaring daggers at you?"
Tristan chuckled. "I might have participated in a friendly competition with this huge German fella. Let's just say 'er hat den Kürzeren gezogen'..."
Valeria groaned. "Please don't tell me you've dueled them, brother?"
"I wouldn't call it a duel," Tristan shrugged: "He used fire, I preferred water. There really isn't much more to it."
His sister stored away her homework with a heavy sigh. "What happened to not revealing any of your strength and skills? Wasn't it enough that you showed off everyone during your OWLs last year?"
"There's not much to be revealed when casting an Aguamenti charm," Tristan said. "And soon, once the tasks begin, I will no longer have a need to hold back at all."
'No more drowning shadows.' His gaze roamed up the table to the dancing blue flames in the Goblet of Fire. 'Finally something for myself.'
Valeria regarded him with a frown as the plates filled with dishes around them. "I hope you know what you're doing, Tristan. I really do."
"Trust me, I do," Tristan nodded. "Which is why tonight, I need you to do something for me."
Her blue eyes narrowed. "And what is that?"
Tristan pulled the smooth silvery fabric from his backpack and handed it to her. "When the Hogwarts champion is announced, and the Great Hall clears shortly after, I want you to leave immediately, hurry around the next corner and wear this on your way down to the common room. Don't take it off until you've reached your dorm and do the usual spells mother taught you."
"Tristan, why-"
"I promise to explain everything," he interrupted her, shooting her a pointed look. "But tonight I need you to do as I say, please, sister."
She pouted and turned her nose up, snatching the cloak out of his hold. "Fine. But in return, you'll let me use this on one more occasion."
"Suit yourself," he shrugged. "As long as it's not to meet some boy after curfew, I hardly care."
"Good thing Cedric Diggory is already a man then."
Tristan choked on his pumpkin juice, spattering some over his shirt and tie. "You know, if he wasn't dating Chang I might actually be concerned..."
The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. All around him necks were constantly craned and the expressions of his peers were of impatience and nervousness.
Many of his peers began fidgeting once they had finished their dinner, some even stood up to see whether McGonagall had finished dining yet. Tristan forced himself to exercise patience and busied himself eating until his stomach threatened to rumble in protest.
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 McGonagall got to her feet.
On either side of her, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Minister Crouch looked strict as usual, his small black eyes roaming over the tables and boring into any student who dared meet his gaze.
"The Goblet is almost ready to make its decision, I estimate that it requires one more minute," McGonagall's voice cut through the silence.
"When the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber-" she indicated the door behind the staff table, "-where they will be receiving their first instructions."
McGonagall took out her wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins 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, with a few people even checking their watches.
'Here it goes.' Tristan blended out the dull throb of his heartbeat, eyes firmly locked on the Goblet. 'My chance for glory.'
The flames inside the Goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. A bright tongue of flame shot into the air and a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it.
A gasp echoed through the silence. McGonagall caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, reading it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.
She cleared her throat. "The champion for Durmstrang-" she read, in her sharp, clear voice, "-will be Viktor Krum!"
"No surprises there!" Valeria politely clapped as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall.
'Sure, he knows what it takes to win, but this is not a quidditch match...'
Tristan watched Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table after accepting congratulations from Malfoy and Crouch with his persistent frown plastered over his thick brows.
"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff boomed so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "I knew you had it in you!"
Krum slouched up toward McGonagall, accepted a brief handshake, and turned right. He walked along the staff table until he disappeared through the door into the next chamber
The clapping and chatting died down. 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-" McGonagall said, "-is Fleur Delacour!"
"Urgh, of course," Valeria huffed.
Tristan ignored her, eyes fixed on the girl who got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
'Fleur... Fleur Delacour...'
She passed her peers from Beauxbatons without a single glance. With her nose turned up, she completely ignored those who had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads in their arms.
'If she were a flower, she'd definitely be a rose. With thorns... lots and lots of thorns…'
Tristan watched the blur of silver vanish into the side chamber with a slight frown.
'Out of her and Krum, she might be the one to actually look out for. She knows that this is not a popularity contest. Her beauty would settle her for life, but for some reason, she has something to prove to the world.'
Silence fell in the Great Hall again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it.
Tristan gave his sister's hand a gentle squeeze. "Remember what we talked about."
The Goblet of Fire turned red one last time; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip McGonagall pulled the third and final piece of parchment.
No one spoke while McGonagall held it out and stared at the name written upon it. Her brows drew together closer by the second and her lip thinned impossibly.
'This is it.' His heart began pounding frantically and he licked his dried lips. 'This must be it!'
There was a long pause, during which McGonagall simply stared at the slip in her hands, and everyone in the room stared at her. Then she cleared her throat and read aloud.
"Tristan Peverell!"