When we entered the candlelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. Fred and George – clean-shaven again – seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.
"Hope it's Diggory," Charlotte said as I sat down next to her. "Angelina's alright, but I just don't think it'll be her."
"Well, we'll soon know!" Caridy said.
The Hallowe'en feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Perhaps because it was their second feast in two days, people didn't seem to fancy the extravagantly prepared food as much as they would normally have done. Everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting and the standing-up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions.
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 Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students. Mr Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.
"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore said. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber –" he indicated the door behind the staff table, "– where they will be receiving their first instructions."
He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them all into a state of semi-darkness. 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 ... a few people kept checking their watches ...
"Any second," Ginny whispered impatiently.
The flames inside the Goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it – the whole room gasped.
Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue white.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."
A storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. Viktor Krum rose from next to Savannah (he'd swapped for tonight to sit next to her instead so he could be with both of them) and slouched up towards Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.
"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff boomed, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"
The clapping and chatting died down. Now 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," Dumbledore said, "is Fleur Delacour!"
A girl who so resembled a Veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
"Oh, look, they're all disappointed," Greta said over the noise, nodding towards the remainder of the Beauxbatons party. 'Disappointed' was a bit of an understatement. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears, and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.
When Fleur Delacour, too, had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next...
And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.
"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"
The uproar from the next table was too great. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off towards the chamber behind the teacher's table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.
"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 Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.
The fire in the Goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.
"Harry Potter has been selected," I whispered to Ginny, who chuckled.
Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore.
And then Dumbledore cleared his throat, and read out – "Harry Potter."
"Knew it," I sung.
Harry sat there. Every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He looked stunned.
There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.
Up at the top table, McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Dumbledore, who bent his ear towards her, frowning slightly.
Harry turned to Ron and Hermione; beyond them, he saw the long Gryffindor table all watching him, open-mouthed.
At the top table, Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to McGonagall. "Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"
Hermione gave Harry and slight push. Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Hundreds and hundreds of eyes were upon him, as though each was a searchlight. After what seemed like an hour, he was right in front of Dumbledore, receiving the stares of all the teachers upon him.
Harry moved off along the teachers' table. He went through the door out of the Great Hall.
Everyone was silent
And then it happened again.
The fire in the Goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.
Dumbledore caught it and sighed. "Peyton Potter."
Now all eyes were on me.
You have got to be kidding.
"Go," Caridy whispered.
I stood up, but didn't move towards the staff table.
I am not doing this shit.
I turned and walked towards the way out of the Great Hall, not looking back.
"Miss Potter!"
I turned back around and glared at Dumbledore, folding my arms. "Yeah . . . no. I am not doing this shit. First year - almost die. Second year - almost die. I am not doing this bullshit again. No way, not me," I shook my head.
"The Goblet of Fire is a legally binding contract, Miss Potter," Barty Crouch said. "You have to."
"No. She doesn't."
Those words, surprisingly enough, came from Tristan Greenblatt, Bridget's younger brother in first year. The hall turned to look at him, and he swallowed. "Well, you said it was a legally binding contract. Peyton isn't of age, so she and Harry can't legally give consent for this sort of thing," Tristan pointed out.
"Yeah," Bridget nodded. "If they wanted to compete, they'd have to get parental permission, or permission from their legal guardian."
I scoffed. "Good luck with that. If you want me to compete in this suicide thing, you can go see my mother, Molly Weasley, and ask her if she wants me dead. If she gives me permission - and let's face it, Fred and George would become straight-O suck ups before that happens - then I will compete. If not, kiss your fifth champion goodbye," I turned and stormed out of the hall.
A/N - I was on a roll and really wanted to write this chapter, so here's an extra part! Sorry it's short (when I say short I mean 1488 words), but it's two parts as a new year present. Don't complain.