godsent | h. potter

six.

THE STORM WITHIN

It was a gloomy Saturday evening but the Great Hall was anything but. It was finally time to know who the mysterious Goblet of Fire chose as champions.

Ron and Harry were already off in a heated discussion of who the champions would be, while Hermione and Patricia sat quietly. Both had agreed that the whole tournament was ridiculous.

As someone whose whole life revolved on deadly situations, Patricia had a strong dislike for the Triwizard Tournament. She did not see the point of exchanging your life for fame and glory. Apparently, Harry also agrees, but he had no problem if other people didn't.

"I wish I was seventeen." Ron says dreamily. Patricia snorted, catching the attention of the red head.

"Why are you so against this, anyway?" Ron asks Patricia, to which the girl frowns at. He wouldn't understand, Patricia reasons to herself, it's better to just ignore him.

And so she did. For the rest of the night, she ignored anything the red head said about the 'glories' of the tournament. She focused on Hermione, who was still furiously writing agendas for S.P.E.W. Patricia had joined only because she didn't want Hermione to get hurt even more. None of the boys had joined, even Hagrid had refused.

"I've been making these pamphlets," Hermione had said. "Maybe we could post this around school."

Reluctantly, Patricia accepted a pamphlet. Harry sent her an amused grin, as if telling her 'I told you so' to which she pouted at.

The rest of dinner passed in a blur. Dumbledore stands up from the front and announces something. Patricia was still absorbed with eating the blue cookies Harry had piled on to her plate to care. Like usual. She mentally noted to thank the elves in the kitchen for baking something blue for her. Ron and Hermione looked weirded out while the bespectacled boy simply watched her with an amused smile and a knowing look on his face.

"I'll explain later." She dismissed, but it was unnecessary. Their attention was already on Dumbledore, who was by the Goblet of Fire.

She barely had time to register what was happening when the lights dimmed and the first piece of paper flew from the bright blue flames of the goblet and into Dumbledore's awaiting hands.

"The Durmstrang champion!" The old man announced. The air was filled with tense eagerness that brought the students to the edge of their seats.

"Viktor Krum!" A loud round of applause rang from the Slytherin table where the said man sat. Ron had joined with vigor ("No surprises there!" he had yelled), brimming with delight as he watches Krum stand to head where the Champions would be staying.

"He's whipped." Patricia whispers to Harry who sat beside her. He chuckles, adding, "He's already got the wedding invitations ready."

"The champion for Beauxbatons," Dumbledore called out once again after the cheers died down. "Fleur Delacour!"

Patricia watched as a tall, willowy blonde went up to Dumbledore and kissed his cheek. Patricia grimaced and watched as Fleur disappeared somewhere behind the teachers, probably with Krum.

"Where's she going?" Patricia asked, brushing off the cookie crumbs off her lips.

Hermione didn't even question Patricia's cluelessness, "The trophy room."