"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."
Viktor Krum stared at the table top, absently turning over the gold spoon from his place setting, his fingers holding the two ends and twisting it over and over. He still had on the heavy wool and fox fur coat and pulled the ear flaps of his hat down lower, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. People all over the dining hall of Hogwarts were looking his way, whispers rose up from the various tables, and there were girls that were scrambling, looking through their robes pockets frantically, chittering about having a quill.
Meanwhile Viktor was most painfully aware of Aleksander Nicolaev's arm bumping him as Aleksander picked up and turned over the golden goblet that had been part of his place setting as he talked with the other Durmstrang students at the table. Every accidental nudge felt like a jolt disrupting every check and balance in Viktor's psyche. Aleksander hadn't spoken to Viktor since the day Viktor's father had visited when Viktor had pushed him out of his room. In fact, Viktor had talked to very few people since that day, going so far as telling Karkaroff that he was sick and couldn't attend classes.
"Perhaps I should not go to Hogwarts after all," Viktor had tried that very afternoon, when Karkaroff had come banging on his door to find out why he had not been at the assembly in the Courtyard for the pre-departure celebratory bonfire the rest of the school had enjoyed.
They had performed blessings upon the contenders for the title of Durmstrang Champion amongst those who were on the short list for the Triwizard Tournament. It felt pointless to Viktor, all the fake pomp and circumstance that Karkaroff was very carefully building up as he prepared to bring his students to the British school of witchcraft and wizardry. It was blatantly obvious to all of the other boys on the shortlist that it was not their names that were going to be picked once they go to Hogwarts. Karkaroff did not give the private dormitory room to a boy who he planned to fail whatever tests the Ministry for Magic had determined as the way they would choose the champions competing.
"You'll excuse Viktor for being so quiet, Dumbledore," Karkaroff had said as they'd followed the Hogwarts headmaster into the castle, "Viktor has a slight head cold. Perhaps a place closest to a fire?" Karkaroff had escorted Viktor in personally as Dumbledore smiled and nodded and gone into the Great Hall, where Karkaroff pointed to the table furthest to the right, where long green banners emblazoned with snakes hung down from the ceiling. "Go and have a seat over there, Viktor," he said quietly, and he'd gone with Dumbledore to the front of the Hall, where Madame Maxime, Viktor assumed, was watching with a frown as a tiny little Professor charmed the chair at the staff table to be large enough for the Beauxbatons headmistress to sit. The arms of the chair the school's care taker had offered her had been too narrow for her giant-sized hips to be seated between.
"She's half giant, my Father said so," sneered a pale-haired boy in green robes who was just sliding onto the bench opposite of Viktor at the table. The pale-haired boy shook his head as he watched the short Professor motioning for the Madame to attempt to sit once more. "Mother said she almost went to Beauxbatons when she was in school but my grandmother found out they were talking about hiring old Big Bones up there and they backed out. Giants have rubbish for brains, you know, that's why they can't do anything but tend to the grass at Hogwarts." He smirked and looked 'round at the two boys that flanked him, then grinned across the table at Viktor. "Viktor Krum, isn't that right?" he asked in a demanding tone.
Instead of answering, Viktor simply looked up.
The boy's face was full of self importance and his nose pinched and upturned. He held out his hand to Viktor, "Draco Malfoy," he said, "Of the Malfoys." Draco waited for Viktor to shake his hand and when Viktor didn't, he seamlessly melted the hand-shake into a lame attempt to look like he'd been reaching for the pumpkin juice. "Don't they teach you manners in Durmstrang?" Malfoy asked with an attitude.
"They do," Viktor said, speaking for the first time in several hours. He felt several of his fellow Bulgarians turn to look at him. "I greet only gentlemen with handshakes. You arrived to the table mocking that poor woman which is not gentlemanly at all."
One of the boys next to Draco Malfoy snickered and Draco shot the boy a sharp look and he stopped instantly, flushed, and looked down.
Draco stared at Viktor, but if he was waiting on an apology, he wasn't soon to get it.
Viktor turned his eyes down to the gold place setting once again.
The dinner was a spread of varied foods that seemed to have no end and the warmth of them rose up, the scent was heady and delicious. There was a lot of talking and laughter among the Hogwarts students at all four of the tables as they ate, and a lot of eyes were turned toward the Slytherin tables, looking directly at Krum all throughout the dinner.
Like Cedric Diggory and Herbert Fleet were doing.
"Bloody hell," Cedric whispered.
"Blooooooodyyyyy helllllllll," agreed Herbert Fleet.
"I can't believe he's here," Cedric said.
"I can't believe he's a student," Herbert said.
"There's no way he's not going to be their champion," Cedric observed.
Herbert shook his head, "Yeah, no way."
"Nobody's going to beat him," Cedric said.
"You are," Herbert replied.
"No I'm not."
"Yeah you are!" Herbert replied, and he turned from looking at Krum to looking at Cedric. "You really bloody are."
"I'm really bloody not!" Cedric argued, "I can't do half the things that Viktor Krum could! The man is a bleeding living legend. He's played in the World Cup! There's no way I could possibly have his skill and not to mention his strength. That guy's bicep is bigger 'round than my whole head, I'll bet, Herbert."
"You'll have Oliver Kent training you soon! Anything Krum knows, Oliver's taught him, yeah? So you'll know it, too. You'll make Krum sorry he sacked Oliver Kent!" Herbert hissed under his breath - for this was still a secret between the pair of them. Oliver had agreed to meeting them the very next day - Halloween. "Besides that, half the challenge of the tourney will be based on smarts and you've got loads of them!"
"Of smarts?" Cedric asked.
"Yeah! Loads of smarts!" Herbert said. "His bicep might be large but that's not where he keeps his brain. And look at that, his head's just average size." Herbert looked at Cedric. "In fact, if you count hair, your head's bigger."
Cedric's brows came together with confusion at this and he turned to Herbert with question but by that time Dumbledore had stood back up and all three of them looked up at the podium. Roger turned and hurried back to the Ravenclaw table.
"The moment has come," said Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces, "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket --"
Herbert's head turned 'round to face Dumbledore so fast that it nearly spun off of him.
"What'd he just say?" Cedric asked.
"Did he just say casket?" Herbert said, "I think he did. Oi, enough people die they get a special tourney casket???"
Cedric shifted nervously.
"-- just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year," Dumbledore was continuing on, despite the hisses and whispers going up all over the room at the word casket.
"At least if we heard him wrong, we weren't the only ones," Herbert pointed out.
Even at Slytherin table, a general murmuring had gone up at the word and Viktor, who had looked up when Dumbledore started talking, saw Aleksander's head turn to look at him. Their eyes met for a moment and then Aleksander's face turned stoney and he turned away quickly, jaw clenched. Viktor looked down again.
"But first let me introduce, for those who do not know them... Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
Krum remembered both of the men from the short visit that Oliver Kent had brought them by the tent for at the World Cup and neither of them particularly impressed him much. Bagman was wearing his striped number jumper again and Krum wondered if the man ever wore anything else or if he was the sort of has-been that convinced himself that he wasn't completely irrelevant by wearing his old uniform about and waiting for someone to comment on it so he could use it to launch a conversation about his glory days. That suspicion only grew when Ludo stood up at the polite applause he was given and waved, grinning about at everyone as though he thought himself a celebrity. Crouch hadn't smiled or waved when Dumbledore had said his name, after all. But then again Crouch looked like the sort that probably never smiled a day in his life.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangement of the details for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "And they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."
"At least there's someone who isn't completely biased on the panel," yawned Draco Malfoy.
"The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
Viktor Krum turned his head to look as the old caretaker of Hogwarts approached the front of the room with an ancient, heavy-looking wooden chest that was absolutely covered in jewels. He placed it on the table in front of Dumbledore, who nodded in thanks, and walked closer, hovering before the chest, inspecting it as he spoke.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge."
Dumbledore stood upright and looked around the room - to the staff table - and back to the students, who were enraptured with attention now.
"There will be three tasks," he said, holding up his hand with three fingers held up, "Spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways... their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."
Herbert Fleet nudged Cedric Diggory. "More than just muscle then, huh?" he whispered, "You're right. Your brains are just as important as his biceps, Diggy."
Cedric didn't respond, he was staring at Dumbledore as though hypnotized.
The rest of the room had fallen so absolutely silent that it seemed nobody was breathing.
Herbert looked around, then looked back up at Dumbledore.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "One from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup."
"Or the one that is still alive," whispered Aleksander Nicolaev darkly, keeping his head carefully turned away from Viktor Krum.
Viktor felt a pit in his stomach twist.
Dumbledore stepped squarely even to the ancient chest now and withdrew his wand, raising it up in his arm ceremoniously. "The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector... The Goblet of Fire."
Silence filled the room and Viktor sat upright, eyes wide as he stared at the front of the room, stared at the jeweled encrusted chest. He couldn't believe he hadn't recognized it the moment that the caretaker had carried it out to the center of the stage. His eyes flashed about the room. Why was no one reacting to the arrival of such an ancient and incredible artifact? Even his fellow members of Durmstrang school didn't seem to care. Had no one else in the room ever read the old stories? His heart rate picked up with excitement he couldn't hold back.
He couldn't believe that the Goblet of Fire was real.
Krum was breathless as Albus Dumbledore brought his wand down to the top of the jeweled chest, rapped upon the top of it three times... and the lid slowly creaked open.
In his anticipation, Krum's fingers tightened into a fist so hard his knuckles turned white. Every nerve in Krum's body tingled.
Dumbledore bent down, reaching into the chest, and when he stood up right, he held the goblet. The way he held it was hard to get a close look, and Krum leaned forward, trying to see better, squinting his eyes. Dumbledore cradled the goblet in his arm gently, like he was holding a baby. He reached out a hand, closed the chest and carefully stood the goblet on top, where it was more clearly visible to everyone in the Great Hall.
It stood there, wholly unremarkable in appearance. Roughly hewn of oak wood, the cup was utterly plain, no decorative carvings, no jewels, nothing to make it look like anything except a plain, simple cup. The one thing about the cup that made it worth a second glance at all was the bright blue-white light that flickered like fire within it, glowing, dancing to the brim of the cup.
"Gods be," whispered Viktor.