As Dumbledore announced the end of the feast, drowsy students gradually rose from their seats and shuffled toward their respective common rooms. Along the way, the Weasley twins were whispering excitedly about ways to bypass Dumbledore's age restriction.
"An age line!" Fred (or possibly George) said, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Maybe we could use an Ageing Potion or something to make ourselves a year or two older, just for a bit. Right? All we need is a way to get our names into the Goblet of Fire… Harry, want to give it a go?"
Harry waved them off. "I'll pass. The Triwizard Tournament doesn't exactly scream 'fun' to me. I've had enough of people staring at my scar every time I go somewhere new. And I don't need the thousand Galleons."
"Well, you are the great Harry Potter, Chosen One and all," George (or maybe Fred) teased. "The Chosen One only has to save the world. Us ordinary folk have to think about more practical matters."
The twins exchanged a glance and burst into laughter.
"George, Fred, seriously," Hermione interjected, her tone measured and logical, "I think Professor Dumbledore's age line is a sensible precaution. Professor McGonagall said in class that the first five years are just about building foundations. It's not until sixth year that we really dive into advanced magic. Without that knowledge, we'd be at a huge disadvantage against the sixth- and seventh-years…"
"Harry, please, rein her in," George groaned, clutching his ears alongside Fred and looking pitifully at Harry. "She's about to crush what little confidence we have left."
Hermione, who had been passionately lecturing the twins, faltered. A flush crept up her cheeks to the tips of her ears. The young witch stole a cautious glance at Harry, relieved when he didn't react, though a faint pang of disappointment flickered within her.
And Ron…
"Where's Krum?" Ron blurted, scanning the crowd. "Dumbledore didn't say where the Durmstrang lot are sleeping, did he?" He hadn't heard a word of the previous conversation, too busy searching for Krum.
Finally, he spotted the Durmstrang students near the Slytherin table, and his face lit up with excitement.
"Where do you reckon they're staying? Maybe we could offer Krum a bed in our dorm, Harry, what do you think?" Ron's eyes sparkled with admiration. "I'd sleep on a camp bed and give him mine…"
"I hate to burst your bubble," Hermione said, her composure mostly restored as she glanced at the Durmstrang headmaster ushering his students out of the Great Hall, "but they're probably sleeping on that big ship of theirs."
The excitement over the Goblet of Fire kept the dormitory buzzing late into the night, with everyone except Harry and Neville caught up in fervent discussion. As a result, the next morning's training session saw Ron, Seamus, and Dean practically dragged out of bed by Harry and Neville.
In the common room, Hermione was already dressed, warming herself by the fire as she waited. When she saw Harry and Neville hauling Ron, Seamus, and Dean down the stairs like dead weight, her eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Did those three stay up late talking too?"
"Too?" Harry asked, curious, as he flicked his wand to conjure a snowball that smacked the groggy trio in the face. The effect was immediate—Ron, Seamus, and Dean snapped awake. "Your dorm was up late as well?"
"Yeah," Hermione nodded. "Parvati and Lavender were gushing about who might be Hogwarts' champion. I didn't join in, though—morning training, you know."
After a spirited duel in the Room of Requirement's training chamber, Ron and the others were patched up by Neville's healing spells and regained their energy. They returned to the dorms to change back into their robes and joined some early-rising students for breakfast in the Great Hall. But someone had beaten them to it.
As they entered the entrance hall, they saw about twenty people gathered around, some still nibbling on bread, all eyeing the Goblet of Fire perched on a stool in the center. A thin golden square, ten feet on each side, had been drawn on the floor, encircling the goblet.
"Has anyone put their name in yet?" Ron asked eagerly, turning to a third-year girl.
"All the Durmstrang champions," she replied, "but I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts sign up yet."
"Someone probably snuck their name in while we were sleeping," Harry mused. "I mean, it'd be pretty embarrassing if the goblet spat your name out in front of everyone, wouldn't it?"
A commotion erupted behind them. Turning, they saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan bounding down the stairs, practically vibrating with excitement.
"We did it!" Fred (or possibly George) whispered smugly as they passed Harry's group. "Just took it!"
"Did what?" Ron asked, bewildered.
"The Ageing Potion, you daft git," Fred (or maybe George) said with a grin, pulling out three pieces of parchment. He kept one and handed the other two to George (or possibly Fred) and Lee.
"One drop each," George (or perhaps Fred) said, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "We just need to be a few months older."
"If one of us wins, we split the thousand Galleons three ways," Lee added, grinning ear to ear.
"I don't think it'll work," Hermione cautioned. "I'm sure Dumbledore's thought of that."
Fred, George, and Lee ignored her completely.
They scribbled their names on the parchment and, in unison, stepped over the golden line.
The entrance hall fell silent, every eye fixed on the trio. Surprise flickered across Fred, George, and Lee's faces.
Then, with a faint sizzling sound, all three were hurled backward, landing in a heap ten feet outside the golden square.
The crowd erupted in laughter. To add insult to injury, identical long white beards sprouted from the chins of all three boys.
Fred, George, and Lee scrambled to their feet, catching sight of each other's beards and bursting into laughter themselves.
"I did warn you," a deep, amused voice called from the direction of the Great Hall.
Everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore striding out, his eyes twinkling as he surveyed the bearded trio. "I suggest you three pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey. She's already tending to Miss Fawcett from Ravenclaw and Mr. Summers from Hufflepuff, who, like you, thought an Ageing Potion might do the trick. Though I must say, their beards aren't nearly as impressive as yours."
The three bearded boys trudged off to the hospital wing, but the crowd in the entrance hall only grew larger.
Passing a few carved pumpkins and ducking under swooping bats, Harry's group settled at the Gryffindor table. Ron and Seamus, ravenous, practically dove into the food. As Ron tore into his fifth drumstick, a cheer rang out from the entrance hall. A striking dark-skinned girl strode into the Great Hall, head held high.
Harry vaguely recognized her as a Gryffindor Chaser, though her name escaped him.
She plopped down next to Ron, beaming. "Yes! I did it—I got my name in!"
"Nice one, Angelina!" Ron mumbled through a mouthful of food, high-fiving her.
"Everyone in Hufflepuff's talking about Cedric Diggory," Angelina said, digging into a sausage. "You know Cedric, right? The handsome one with the shy smile? I thought he'd be a shoo-in, but my dormmates kept pushing me to try, so… here we are!"
"I'd rather it be you than that pretty-boy Diggory," Seamus said, earning glares from a few passing Hufflepuff students.
Since it was Saturday and fourth-years had no classes, Harry and Hermione headed to the library, while Ron, Seamus, and the others returned to the common room for a game of wizard chess.
"What are you two doing here again?" Madam Pince snapped, her eyes narrowing at Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, her least favorite students.
Under Pince's unwelcoming stare, Hermione replied softly, "Good day, Madam Pince. We'd like to borrow a book from the Restricted Section—Animagi and Human Transfiguration. Here's Professor McGonagall's note…"
Hermione produced a piece of parchment, which Pince snatched from her hand. The librarian's suspicious gaze darted between Hermione, Harry, and the note bearing McGonagall's signature.
"The Restricted Section? You're only fourth-years. A professor gave you permission?"
"If you doubt it, you can verify with Professor McGonagall," Harry said calmly, meeting Pince's eyes.
"Fine. Stay here, and don't touch anything!" Pince barked before stalking off to the Restricted Section. A few minutes later, she returned with a purple-bound book. "Here's your Animagi and Human Transfiguration. You know the Restricted Section borrowing rules, I presume?"
"Yes, we do," Harry and Hermione replied in unison. After appeasing Pince, they settled across from Neville, who was engrossed in a massive herbology tome, and began poring over McGonagall's recommended book.
The note, of course, was genuinely signed by McGonagall herself.
Harry, Hermione, and Neville spent the entire day studying Animagi, while Ron, Seamus, and Dean played games. Everyone felt their day had been well spent.
By five-thirty, Harry and Hermione returned the book to Pince and descended to the candlelit Great Hall, which was already packed. The Goblet of Fire had been moved to the staff table, positioned in front of Dumbledore's empty chair. Fred, George, and Lee, their chins now clean-shaven, seemed to have accepted their failure with good humor.
"I hope it's Angelina," Fred (or possibly George) said as Harry and Hermione sat next to Ron.
"Who?" Harry asked, glancing at Hermione, who looked equally confused.
"Angelina Johnson, you know, our Gryffindor Quidditch Chaser?" Ron said, incredulous that Harry and Hermione, after over three years at Hogwarts, hadn't learned everyone's names.
"The dark-skinned girl from breakfast?" Harry ventured, recalling the morning.
"Who else would it be?" Ron rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Harry, you need to socialize more. You can't just keep hiding in the library with Hermione—it's not good for you."
"As if wasting time goofing off with others is better for him," Hermione shot back across Harry, kicking off her and Ron's daily bickering ritual.
Perhaps because the Halloween feast dragged on, or because it was the second banquet in as many days, the students seemed less interested in the lavish spread than usual. Most craned their necks, faces etched with anticipation, barely touching their food.
Nearly everyone was restless, standing up every few moments to check if Dumbledore had finished eating—everyone except Harry.
Unaffected by the tense atmosphere, Harry ate quietly. As he sipped his third glass of pumpkin juice, the golden plates suddenly gleamed, pristine once more.
The Great Hall buzzed with excitement. Then, under everyone's gaze, Dumbledore rose, and the room fell silent.
Professors Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, seated on either side of Dumbledore, looked as tense and expectant as the students. Ludo Bagman beamed, winking at students from each school, while Mr. Crouch appeared bored, even irritated.
"The Goblet is about to make its decision," Dumbledore said, glancing at his pocket watch. "It should be any moment now… When a champion's name is announced, I ask that they proceed to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and enter the room beyond—" he gestured to the door behind the staff table, "—where they will receive their initial instructions."
He drew his wand and, with a grand flourish, extinguished all the candles except those in the jack-o'-lanterns, plunging the Hall into a dim, eerie glow.
The Goblet of Fire blazed brighter than anything else, its blue-white flames sparking and dancing, casting an ethereal light across the room. Every eye was fixed on it, waiting.
Suddenly, the flames flickered and turned red, spitting out crackling sparks. A tongue of fire shot upward, ejecting a charred piece of parchment. The flames reverted to blue-white.
Dumbledore caught the parchment and, in the hushed silence, his voice rang out like a bell. "The Durmstrang champion: Viktor Krum."
"No surprise there!" Ron shouted, clapping loudly.
The Great Hall erupted in applause and cheers, nearly shaking the ceiling. Harry watched the wiry, dark-haired boy rise from the Slytherin table, trudging toward Dumbledore with a weary expression. He turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door.
"Brilliant, Viktor!" Karkaroff roared, his voice drowning out the applause. "I knew you were destined to be our champion!"
The cheers and chatter gradually died down, and attention returned to the Goblet. Moments later, the flames turned red again. A second piece of parchment shot out, propelled by the fire.
"The Beauxbatons champion: Fleur Delacour!" Dumbledore announced, reading the slightly singed parchment.
Ron leapt to his feet.
At the Ravenclaw table, a girl with an almost Veela-like allure rose gracefully, tossing her silvery hair. She glided between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables with effortless poise.
For the third time, the Goblet's flames turned red, sparks bursting forth. A fiery tongue licked the air, and Dumbledore plucked the third piece of parchment from its tip.
"The Hogwarts champion," he declared, "Cedric Diggory!"
The Hufflepuff table exploded with unprecedented fervor, students leaping and screaming, stomping their feet in a frenzy.
Cedric Diggory rose calmly, his radiant smile lighting up the room as his housemates swarmed him. He made his way to the staff table and entered the side room.
The applause lingered for ages until Dumbledore finally signaled for silence.
"Excellent!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Now that our three champions have been chosen, I have full confidence that you all—"
He stopped abruptly, and everyone saw what had caught his attention.
The Goblet's flames had turned red again. Sparks crackled and popped. A long tongue of fire surged upward, carrying yet another piece of parchment.
Almost instinctively, Dumbledore reached out and seized it. He held it at arm's length, staring at the name written there.
The Great Hall was deathly silent, every eye locked on Dumbledore as he gazed at the parchment. Then, clearing his throat, he read aloud in a clear, resonant voice:
"Hermione Granger."
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