"Now, the moment you've all been waiting for!" Dumbledore announced to the students who had gathered around the Goblet of Fire, his voice ringing with excitement. "It's time for the selection of champions!"
An eruption of cheers filled the room, a tangible energy pulsating through the air as Dumbledore extended his hand towards the captivating Goblet.
As if responding to his command, the Goblet swiftly transformed in a dazzling array of colors before shooting out a small, fluttering piece of paper. The room fell into an anticipatory hush as Dumbledore deftly caught the paper in his hand. Every eye in the room was fixed on him, the tension palpable, as they anxiously awaited the revelation.
"The Durmstrang champion is..." Dumbledore began, his words trailing off momentarily as he let the anticipation build to its climax, "Victor Krum!"
Everyone started cheering, followed by chants of "Krum! Krum! Krum!" as Victor walked up and shook Dumbledore's hand.
Isabella, sitting next to Oliver, cheered the loudest out of anyone. Her enthusiasm was so infectious that Oliver thought he might go deaf listening to her powerful voice resonating through the room.
The goblet quickly shot out another piece of paper, which Dumbledore swiftly caught. "The champion of Beauxbatons is... Fleur Delacour!"
The room erupted into cheer once again, the enthusiasm of the students reaching new heights as Fleur gracefully made her way to the front, her presence commanding attention. Her elegant strides and radiant smile exuded a quiet confidence that instantly captured the hearts of those gathered around.
As Fleur approached Dumbledore, the cheers intensified, a wave of appreciation and awe washing over the crowd. Oliver couldn't help but marvel at the bravery displayed by the young woman, choosing to participate in this daunting tournament alongside Victor Krum.
"And now, last but certainly not least, our Hogwarts champion!" Dumbledore shouted, hyping everyone up.
Henry sat eagerly in his seat, his heart pounding with anticipation. Oliver, sensing his nervous energy, patted him on the back in a show of support. Isabella, brimming with excitement, grasped Henry's hand tightly, intertwining their fingers.
The room fell into a hushed silence, all eyes fixated on the Goblet of Fire as it prepared to reveal the final champion. Henry's mind raced with a mixture of hope and trepidation, unsure of what fate had in store for him.
In one final burst of brilliance, the goblet shot out a paper, which Dumbledore skillfully caught. "The Hogwarts champion is... Henry Montclair!"
Henry's face flushed with a mixture of shock and elation. He felt a surge of confidence pumping through his veins.
Everyone was chanting "Henry! Henry! Henry!" as he made his way to the front to shake Dumbledore's hand.
The room reverberated with echoes of Henry's name, each chant growing louder and more fervent than the last. The sheer magnitude of support was overwhelming, and Henry couldn't help but be swept up in the wave of enthusiasm that encapsulated him.
As he approached Dumbledore, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves, Cho suddenly appeared beside him. With an exuberant hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek, Cho melted away any lingering doubts or apprehensions. Her support, mixed with the resounding cheers of their classmates, amplified Henry's confidence.
Feeling emboldened by the love and adulation surrounding him, Henry turned around to face the crowd, throwing his arms in the air with a triumphant flourish. The cheers intensified, each voice pouring out with the vigor of unwavering belief. It was a defining moment for Henry, a tidal wave of validation crashing over him.
In that instant, Henry felt a surge of empowerment coursing through his veins. The love and support of his friends, the cheers of his peers, all melded together to create a newfound sense of self-assurance. He stood on the precipice of possibility, feeling invincible and ready to take on any challenge that the Triwizard Tournament might present.
"Excellent! Now, we have our three champions. Let's reveal what these brave students will be competing for!"
With a flourish of his hand, Dumbledore commanded the covering to be removed from the object standing beside the champions. Suddenly, the covering flew off, unveiling a magnificent trophy, its deep blue color mesmerizing everyone in the room. The intricate engravings on the cup sparkled under the bright lights, adding an ethereal glow to the already awe-inspiring sight.
"The Triwizard cup!" Dumbledore exclaimed, his voice filled with pride and admiration.
The room erupted in applause and cheers, the sound drowning out any other noise. All eyes were fixed on the trophy, the symbol of triumph and glory that awaited the champions at the end of their arduous journey.
Henry couldn't help but be captivated by the beauty of the cup, its gleaming surface reflecting his own determination. An unyielding fire burned within him, fueled by the sight before him. This was his chance to etch his name into the history books, to stand alongside the greatest wizards and witches to have ever graced Hogwarts.
Professor Snape noticed something unusual happening with the goblet amidst all the cheering, and he promptly pointed it out to Dumbledore.
Turning around, Dumbledore's eyes widened with surprise as he saw the goblet once again changing colors. The room hushed, the previously thunderous applause replaced by an eerie silence, as the goblet expelled yet another name.
Dumbledore, his hand shaking slightly with a mix of astonishment and curiosity, reached out and grasped the piece of parchment that had been forcefully ejected from the goblet. As he unfolded it and read the name aloud, the room erupted in a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
"Oliver Montclair," Dumbledore called out, his voice quivering with uncertainty.
Oliver's heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach, a sinking sensation accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of dread. The entire room swiveled their gazes towards him, their eyes fixed upon his figure. Among the sea of faces, Isabella and Hermione stared at him, their eyes wide and bulging with disbelief.
Feeling the weight of their scrutiny, Oliver desperately sought solace by trying to shrink into his seat, hoping to escape the piercing gazes and attention now directed at him. The desire to disappear, to become invisible, compelled him to retreat into the depths of his chair.
But his attempts at hiding proved futile when, with a surge of authority mixed with a hint of anger, Dumbledore called out his name once more, the syllables reverberating through the room. The sound seemed to possess an unspoken command, demanding Oliver's presence before the assembled crowd.
Hermione reached out and pulled Oliver from his seat, urging him to face the reality that awaited him. "You better go," she implored.
Oliver's eyes darted from face to face, filled with panic and doubt. "No, no," he pleaded in a trembling voice, his words strained with fear and uncertainty. The weight of the unexpected spotlight threatened to crush him, and he longed for an escape, for the chance to elude the spotlight that now burned so intensely upon him.
But as the crowd watched, Oliver knew deep within his heart that he had to summon the courage to step forward.
He walked up to Dumbledore, the weight of the situation causing his steps to feel like a heavy burden. Dumbledore's face contorted with fury, a storm brewing behind his stern expression. Slowly, Dumbledore extended his hand, holding out the piece of paper.
Oliver gazed at the crumpled parchment in Dumbledore's outstretched hand, his eyes widening as he read the two words upon it: "Oliver Montclair." A surge of disbelief washed over him, crashing against the shore of his mind. He had never entered his name into the goblet, and yet there it was, undeniable evidence of his supposed participation.
The weight of disappointment settled upon Oliver's shoulders as he looked around, observing the disapproving faces of his fellow students. Each disapproving glare felt like a dagger, slicing through his already fragile confidence. Doubts gnawed at him, threatening to unravel his already tenuous resolve.
"He's a cheat!" rang out a scornful voice from the crowd, its accusatory tone slicing through the silence. The words echoed through the air, amplifying Oliver's internal struggle.
"He's not even 17!" cried another student, their voice quivering with indignation. The accusation hung in the air, casting a shadow upon Oliver's innocence.
Oliver, doing his best to hold back tears, felt the weight of the situation bearing down on him. Professor McGonagall, sensing his distress, gently placed her hand on his shoulder as he stood next to the other champions.
Looking over at Henry, Oliver saw a mixture of shock and anger etched across his face.