Waiting in the cold was not how Amisty expected to be spending this afternoon.
She envisioned the two schools arriving a few minutes after they had lined up, letting them to go inside the warm castle and exchange words and talk about the differences between their schools.
She had wanted to make a few new friends and learn things about other witches and wizards elsewhere in Europe.
But no, she was stuck in the cold. And the dark. Staring at the empty sky.
Not at all enjoyable.
Until there was a faint rumbling noise, accompanied by a strange sucking sound. It was coming from the lake.
She nudged Ron with her elbow, knowing if she spoke aloud the others wouldn't understand how she could hear it, tilting her head toward the water.
He nodded discreetly, waiting a few minutes as he listened intently before speaking.
"Can you hear something?" He asked.
Everyone was listening now. The strange sounds were slowly becoming louder.
"The lake! Look at the lake!" Lee Jordan shouted, pointing down at the water.
What had once been smooth was now bubbling, waves splashing against the banks as a whirlpool formed in the center of the water.
A dark pole rose out of the whirlpool slowly.
"It's a mast!" Harry exclaimed.
He was right.
Amisty watched with wide, awed eyes as a massive ship emerged, the water dripping down the sides reflecting the silvery moonlight in an almost ghostly way.
The portholes only supplied a sparse amount of misty light, very reminiscent of the Hogwarts ghosts' eyes, and it slowly glided toward the bank of the lake.
There was a loud splash as an anchor was thrown down, and then a plank was lowered to provide a walkway for the new arrivals. As people began to disembark, Amisty peered through the darkness at the silhouettes.
They seemed to be very similar to Crabbe and Goyle, never a good thing, but as they drew closer, she realized that it wasn't their shoulders she was seeing, it was the thick, dark, matted fur capes drawn over their shoulders.
She hoped that the fur wasn't wolf fur. That wouldn't be very pleasant to have to see.
At least they seemed more prepared to face the cold than the Beauxbatons students. The man in the front of the group had different fur, silver and shiny and sleek.
"Dumbledore! How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?" He called as he walked toward them.
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied brightly.
As Karkaroff came into the light, Amisty felt a faint surge of distrust.
He was tall and thin, white hair on his head and curling into a short goatee at his chin. When he shook Professor Dumbledore's hand he used both.
"Dear old Hogwarts. How good it is to be here, how good..." He smiled up at the castle, but the warm gesture did not help Amisty with liking him.
His teeth were stained yellow, and his eyes were cold and cruel.
"How good it is to be here, how good... Viktor, come along, into the warmth... you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."
He beckoned behind him, and a student came forward and into the light.
There were several gasps, and Amisty's luminous green eyes widened in recognition.
It was Viktor Krum.
"Harry -- it's Krum!" Ron hissed, his jaw practically on the ground. "I don't believe it! Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!"
"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Only a Quidditch player?" Ron sounded absolutely scandalized. "Hermione -- he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"
Ron wasn't the only one to be surprised.
Lee was jumping up and down to see him better, and several sixth-year girls were digging through their pockets.
Amisty was more preoccupied with the fact that they were going back inside.
She did, however, barely conceal her snort as she listened to them as she passed.
"I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me -- "
"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"
"Really," Hermione sighed rather loudly as they walked by, the girls arguing about the lipstick.
"I'm getting his autograph if I can. You haven't got a quill, have you, Harry?" Ron countered.
"Nope, they're upstairs in my bag," Harry's reply had a faint hint of amusement.
They took their seats at the Gryffindor table, Ron making sure to face the door.
The Durmstrang students were gathered there, staring out around the Great Hall in search of a place to sit.
The Beauxbaton students were already sitting at the Ravenclaw table, staring around with rather bored expressions on their faces, clutching their scarves and shawls. Amisty scowled, annoyed at their rudeness.
"It's not that cold. Why didn't they bring their cloaks?" Hermione hissed, glaring at them.
"It's like they were expecting to be showered with attention and that everything was going to be covered in gold," Amisty agreed.
"Over here! Come and sit over here! Over here!" Ron was hissing, waving desperately at the Durmstrang students. "Hermione, budge up, make a space -- "
"What?" Hermione asked sharply.
"Too late," Ron muttered darkly.
The Durmstrang had joined the Slytherin table, to their delight.
Amisty glanced over, watching as Draco leaned forward to speak with Krum.
"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," Ron growled, glaring.
Amisty cast her gaze down.
"I bet Krum can see right through him, though... bet he gets people fawning over him all the time... Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry... I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."
Hermione rolled her eyes again, snorting.
"They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot," Harry remarked, looking over at the Ravenclaw table.
"Tell me about it," Amisty muttered.
He grinned at her.
Filch had started to add chairs, wearing the gross moldy tailcoat he always had for special occasions.
"But there's only two extra people. Why's Filch putting out four chairs, who else is coming?" Harry asked.
"Eh?" Ron wasn't paying any attention, still staring enviously over at Krum.
Hermione scowled even more than before.
Finally, the rest of the students filed in and the staff went up to the top table, with Professor Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime being the last to enter. Dumbledore stayed standing, and silence fell over the crowded Great Hall.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and -- most particularly -- guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable," He smiled around at them.
A Beauxbatons girl laughed scornfully.
Amisty bristled, Harry placed a hand on her shoulder.
"No one's making you stay!" Hermione whispered at the same time as Amisty growled, "It's not as if we left you to sleep in the mud!"
"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!" Dumbledore took a seat, Karkaroff leaning forward to speak with him at once.
The food arrived, and some of it was something Amisty had never seen before.
"What's that?" Ron asked, his eyes wide as he pointed at a dish of what seemed to be shellfish stew.
"Bouillabaisse," Hermione replied offhandedly.
"Bless you," Ron blinked.
Amisty grinned, covering her mouth with her hand.
"It's French, I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice," Hermione corrected him.
"I'll take your word for it," Ron nodded, completely ignoring the stew and instead spooning black pudding onto his plate.
There was a shock of red from across the room, and Amisty glanced over. The Durmstrang students seemed to have robes of bloodred under their heavy fur capes.
Hagrid had arrived, his hand bandaged as he waved at them.
"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called, barely hiding his smile.
"Thrivin'," Hagrid replied, beaming.
"Yeah, I'll just bet they are. Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it?" Ron murmured. "Hagrid's fingers."
Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice sounded from behind them, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"
Amisty turned around, recognizing the accent to be from Beauxbatons.
She fought down her glower. It was the girl who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had long pale blonde hair that brushed against her waist, with big dark blue eyes and white, straight teeth.
Ron blushed so hard he was redder than his hair, a feat on its own.
He opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
"Yeah, have it," Harry saved him, pushing the stew toward her.
"You 'ave finished wiz it?" She asked.
'Oh now you're polite about it," Amisty thought to herself bitterly, turning away before she said something she'd regret.
"Yeah. Yeah it was excellent," Ron nodded, sounding as if he had just run a marathon.
She picked up the dish and carried it back over to the Ravenclaw table, Ron still staring at her.
Amisty shook her head, her laughing seeming to start a chain reaction as Harry started as well.
That seemed to bring Ron back to reality.
"She's a veela!" He insisted.
"Of course she isn't! I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!" Hermione snapped.
Amisty glanced around, not willing to tell Hermione that she wasn't entirely right. Quite a few boys' heads turned as she passed by.
"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" Ron leaned to the side to get a better view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"
Amisty glared at him, feeling rather insulted.
"They make them okay at Hogwarts," Harry replied in a slight daze.
That cheered her up a bit, even though she knew he was talking about Cho.
"When you've both put your eyes back in, you'll be able to see who's just arrived," Hermione commented breezily, gesturing up to the staff table.
Two more people had arrived. Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman.
"What are they doing here?" Harry exclaimed.
"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they? I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start," Hermione replied smartly.
Second course arrived, and there were a few new desserts there as well. She glanced down at the Slytherin table, trying to hold Draco's gaze without a blush on her cheeks and failing miserably.
Ron stared at one of the desserts in particular, shifting it a few inches so it was in view of the Ravenclaw table.
Amisty let out a dramatic sigh, knowing he was vying for the blonde girl's attention. She didn't come over.
Thankfully.
At the end of dinner, Dumbledore stood up once more, "The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket -- "
"The what?" Harry asked quietly.
Ron shrugged.
" -- just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. 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."
The applause for Mr. Bagman was much, much louder than the applause for Mr. Crouch.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangement for the Triwizard Tournament and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel they will judge the champions' effort. The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
Filch carried a massive wooden chest adorned with colorful jewels forward, placing it in front of the Headmaster.
"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. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different way... their magical prowess -- their daring -- their powers of deduction -- and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."
Even with her hearing, Amisty could barely hear anything. Not even the faint sound of breathing. It was almost as if everyone was holding their breaths.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament 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. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."
Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped the top of the box three times.
The lip opened creakily, and Dumbledore pulled out a wooden cup, dazzling bluish-white dancing where liquid would usually sit.
He closed the box, placing the goblet on top in clear view of everyone.
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation,"
Amisty could've sworn Dumbledore's blue gaze flickered to the twins,
"I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line. Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for good. Good night to you all."