Eagle's Flight // Frarry

Year 4.6

Beauxbatons and Durmstrang come in

About the accents: I will write out the dialogue like normal to avoid butchering

The arrival of the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang during dinner had everyone talking. Harry could hear several girls rummaging around for their quills and makeup at the appearance of Viktor Krum, who settled over at the Slytherin table. Draco looked very smug.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and- most particularly- guests," said Dumbledore, 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!"

Although there weren't that many more people, the Great Hall felt crowded.

"Excuse me, are you wanting the bouillabaisse?" a Beauxbaton girls asked. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth.

Ron went purple. He stared up at her, opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out except a faint gurgling noise.

"Yeah, have it," said Dean, pushing the dish toward the girl.

"You have finished with it?"

"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent. "

The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before. Hermione had to nudge him to jog Ron back to his senses.

"She's a veela!" he said hoarsely.

"Of course she isn't!" said Hermione tartly. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"

But as the girl made her way through the hall, many boys turned to stare, looking as dumbstruck as Ron had.

She came over to the Ravenclaw table. "Would you like to have some bouillabaisse?" she asked.

The boy sitting next to Harry gawked at her, but Harry merely nodded. "Sure, thank you." He took a bite. "Delicious."

Dumbledore came back up and began speaking about the tournament. Harry stared at the Goblet of Fire as Filch brought it up. So that was what they used to choose. He heard Dumbledore warm the students of the Age Line and wondered if Fred and George would be trying anything.

"You'll try to get in, won't you, Harry?" Michael Corner asked as they were heading to bed.

"No way," Harry replied honestly. "All I want is a normal year."

"Good," said Terry Boot. "Let someone else have a moment of fame, huh?"

Harry didn't say anything. He'd love to give up a lifetime of fame if it meant he was safe.

Just as Harry had suspected, the twins had made something to trick the Goblet of Fire.

"It's not going to work!" Hermione said in a sing-song voice.

She was ignored.

It seemed to have worked at first. But a moment later, both twins were thrown out of the circle, hair growing longer and whiter.

"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 Madam 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 as fine as yours."

Harry laughed. "Don't worry," he whispered to Fred as they passed. "You still have your handsome looks."

Fred grinned and winked back before following his brother.

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

"No surprises there!" Ron said.

A second piece of parchment came out of the goblet.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

The veela girl stood up gracefully and swept up between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. Looking around, Harry noticed that just about every guy was drooling. Why, though? Was it the Veela allure he had read about? He remembered how Fleur had tried to use it on him, but it just made him uncomfortable.

And last but not least...

"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

Harry grinned, pleased with the choice. Yes, Cedric was a great choice.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-"

But then the fire in the goblet was turning red again and it spat out another slip of parchment.

Oh fuck, Harry thought. Please don't be me. Please don't be me.

Dumbledore caught it and stared for a long moment.

"Harry Potter."

Dammit!

Harry's rather brilliant response was to thump his forehead against the table.

Harry just cannot catch a break, can he?