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EIGHT
——THE GOBLET OF FIRE
"EFFIE, HONEY, I LOVE YOU, BUT JUST WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" Pansy says, annoyed as she struggled to get a good look at Krum.
Effie winked at her bestfriend, leaving her beside Draco. "You'll love me even more." With a parting pat on Pansy's shoulder, Effie turned and headed for the Durmstramg students, channeling her inner, posh Eleazar Stark.
Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around the doors of the Great Hall, apparently unsure about where they should sit. The students from Beaux-batons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.
"Hello, Viktor," Effie greets cooly, but not unkindly. She succeeds in radiating that welcoming aura that she'd seen her dad do when greeting guests as almost immediately, the Durmstrang students looked a bit at ease with her presence.
Krum's expression brightened, "Li-lly-an," He says back, before quickly communicating to his fellow students that (Effie's Bulgarian was a bit rough but. . . ) she was the British Minister of Magic's niece.
"Will you sit with us?" She appeased to them with a kind expression, gesturing to the Slytherin table where Draco looked like his face was about to fall off.
"Very vell," Krum smiles back, and followed her to the table of green and silver.
"How in the world do you know Krum and never told me?" Pansy hissed at her as Draco dramatically pushed some of his schoolmates for Krum to sit beside him.
Effie snorted, "Funny story actually. He owes me a few favors after nearly knocking my head in trying to find the Snitch when dad brought me to meet some Bulgarian delegates."
"That reminds me—" Draco leaned over a few students ahead, "—Stark, I owe you as many favors now!"
"You are such a Slytherin," Pansy shakes her head with wide, awestruck eyes, since Draco didn't know what he just got himself into. "I repeat—if all else fails, we should just marry each other."
The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.
Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion.
When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed.
The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and—most particularly—guests," Dumbledore said, 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."
"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," Dumbledore announced. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home."
The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than they had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.
Effie's eyes brightened at the sight of a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding. "Bouillabaisse!"
Blaise snorted, "Bless her."
"It's French," Effie says with a roll of her eyes.
"The sexiest language," Theo sighed dreamily, looking at some of the Beauxbatons girls. Millicent thumped him upside the head.
"Anyways," Effie grinned, scooping some servings on her plate. "It's nice, it was one of my favorites, the last time I was in Paris."
The Great Hall seemed somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there were barely twenty additional students there; perhaps it was because their differently colored uniforms stood out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts' robes. Now that they had removed their furs, the Durmstrang students were revealed to be wearing robes of a deep bloodred.
"What is this?" Pansy pointed a dish; a medley of beaten eggs with filo pasty—and hoped sincerely that Effie knows because it looked tasty.
"It's Banitsa, I think—yes, yes, it's Banitsa," Effie grinned. "Try it, it's good. And no, Daphne, it's actually a famous Bulgarian dish."
"You should work with international liaisons," Draco commented, passing down a bowl of pudding. "Multi-lingual, multi-cultural. . . "
Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Effie felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming.
"The moment has come," Dumbledore announced, 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—"
"Um, what?" Blaise furrowed his brows from the other side of Effie.
"—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—" there was a smattering of polite applause "—and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looked so much more likable. He acknowledged it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch did not smile or wave when his name was announced. Remembering him in his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, he looked strange in wizard's robes. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore's long white hair and beard.
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements 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 the mention of the word champions, the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."
"I swear to god, if they pick someone from Gryffindor again. . . " Pansy ranted darkly, before turning around to talk to some of the Durmstrang students about how the Gryffindors always get it.
"It might even be Cedric Diggory," Effie says with minimal optimism. Much to her amusement, Daphne was staring dreamily at the Hufflepuff boy.
"Just because you were together once," Daphne grumbled under her breath.
"Effie had been with some of the actually good-looking people in Hogwarts once, Daphne," Pansy reiterates, snorting at the blonde who rolled her eyes, then said in a lower voice. "At least he was one of her few lovers who never screwed her over."
Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old. A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students.
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," Dumbledore said as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, "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 ways. . . their magical prowess—their daring—their powers of deduction—and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."
At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "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 now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.
Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.
"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," Dumbledore continued. "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," Dumbledore adds, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."
Draco scoffed, "I bet Potter will find another way to be the center of attention again."
"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 bed. Good night to you all."
Pansy sighed, grabbing onto Effie's arm. "Now tell me about Anna Karenina so I can actually write something for World Literature."
"Pansy, you need to read the book to actually understand," Effie says with a roll of her eyes, taking a puff of her inhaler as they make their way back to the dungeons.
✨
SHE WAS BACK IN THAT GODDAMN ROOM WITH THE RED DOOR AGAIN. Except it wasn't the Great Hall she was trapped in—it was her childhood home instead.
Effie breathes out harshly, noting that she can't move from her place except in front of the red door, only.
However, something was stranger than the last time she revisited this dream—there was an inscription carved on the red door, like it was carved deeply by a knife. Effie looked around, terrified that someone might pop out—what the hell could she use as a weapon?
Effie moved her hand towards the writing, whispering to herself as she reads it. "Imagine you are in a dark room, how do you get out?"
And as if by cue, the lights shut off from all around her, plunging Effie in a never-ending portal of darkness. The red door was glowing red sinisterly, making Effie squint from the brightness.
She reached forward, grabbing the handle and gave it a strong push forward. "Stop imagining."
The door gave way, sending Effie in a rough stumble because she hadn't exactly been expecting that—what she saw was the weirdest thing.
Everyone, everything—they were in a muggle town, and everyone she knew with magic were muggles. Effie reached out to touch Pansy's shoulder, her eyes widening as her hand passed through the brunette's shoulders.
Effie whirled around, noting that no one was paying her mind, and everyone was passing through her, like she was a ghost. She stepped to the side, her eyes wide with apprehension. "What the hell is this?"
"You don't understand, do you?" Someone boomed—however, Effie didn't find the source of the voice. "It's a riddle. Do you know any riddles, Effie?"
"A few," She murmured.
"What gets bigger the more you take away?"
"A hole."
"What gets wetter the more it dries?"
"A towel."
"When is a door not a door?"
Effie whirled around, expecting the same red door to be there, but it's not there. It's like it disappeared—probably disintegrated and she was left there. "When it's ajar."
"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?"
"I don't—"
"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it, Effie?"
"I don't—I don't know!" Effie exclaimed. Suddenly, she's overcome with this strange, ominous feeling, like something bad's about to happen. She felt nervous, looking around warily and found herself surprised as her mum and Daphne Greengrass came into view.
There was a dark chuckle, "You're playing a dangerous game with me, Effie."
"I didn't agree to play—"
"The moment you answered my riddles, you entered the game. Now choose—your mother, or Miss Greengrass?"
Instantly, Effie answered. "My mum."
Oh, what a big mistake that was. Her mum disappears, but Daphne remained. Trepidation floods Effie's veins—a strangled scream escaped her lips when Daphne's head shot back, a bullet hole between her eyes.
"NO!" Effie yelled, collapsing to her knees beside Daphne. Tears flood out of her eyes in quick succession. "NO! WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
"I gave you a choice, didn't I?" The voice chuckles sinisterly.
"I didn't mean to choose!" Effie wailed, digging her hands in her head, willing this dream to end. "I'M SORRY, I DIDN'T MEAN TO CHOOSE!"
"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?"
"I DON'T KNOW!"
Effie jolted up, clapping her hands over her mouth to muffle the strangled cry. Her eyes dart around her dorm room, finding that everything was normal as it is. Millicent was just coming back from her bathroom break, Daphne (Effie flinched) was still asleep, and Pansy was just waking up. The sun was barely even rising.
"You okay?" Millicent asked, her faces contorting in worry as Effie jumped, grabbing her inhaler.
She took a big breath after a puff of her inhaler, and nodded. "'M fine."
✨
"THAT'S THE SECOND TIME YOU WOKE UP BECAUSE OF AN ASTHMA ATTACK, ARE YOU SURE IT'S NOTHING?" Pansy glanced at her worriedly. Effie hadn't told her yet about this mysterious red door dream—or how Daphne had been killed in her nightmare.
Effie shrugged dismissively, "It's not nothing—but it's asthma, Pansy. I should be used to surprises when it comes to that. Besides, I've been drinking coffee lately, remember?"
"Who do you think will be the Hogwarts champion?" Ginny joined them on the way to the Great Hall. She noticed Effie's fatigued look, but didn't say anything. If Effie wanted her to know, then Effie would surely tell her.
"It'd probably be Cedric Diggory," Effie reminded them again— "He's becoming the talk of the public, probably the fan favorite."
Pansy scoffs, "That's better than a Gryffindor."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ginny snapped.
"She means that besides Gryffindor, the other houses should be given a chance for glory," Effie interjects before they start fighting again.
"You're only saying that because he's your ex," Pansy rolled her eyes.
"Exes who are in good terms, Pansy," Effie defends.
That Saturday, most students would normally have breakfasted late. When they went down into the entrance hall, they saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Goblet of Fire. It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.
Ginny gave Effie a smile before joining her table of red and gold. "Anybody put their name in yet?" Pansy asked Blaise and Draco when she and Effie arrived.
"All the Durmstrang lot," Blaise answered, scooting over so Effie could sit while Pansy took her place across from them, beside Draco. "Haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."
"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," Draco adds in, buttering his toast. "I would've if it had been me. . . wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?"
"Look at Weasley," Draco snorted. Effie looked over her shoulder, right at Ginny. "Not Weaslette, Stark."
"How was I supposed to know which Weasley you were talking about?" Effie snapped back and rolled her eyes, seeing Pansy smirked.
One of the Weasley twins walked up to the age line, seemingly aged (probably an Aging Potion, Effie reckons). He walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.
"It worked," Theo gasps. The other Weasley twin seemingly thought so too, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after his twin brother.
Effie put on a subtle smirk, taking a sip of coffee. "No one can bypass Dumbledore easily—"
There was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.
"—like that," She finished smugly, sharing a high five with Blaise.
The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.
"I did warn you," A deep, amused voice said, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."
"Idiots," Draco said with a roll of his eyes.
"Oh quit it," Daphne scolds, although she was laughing too. Effie pointedly avoided her gaze. "Not like you can do better."
The decorations in the Great Hall had changed this morning. As it was Halloween, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner.
"I heard Warrington got up early and entered," Millicent gossiped. "The Hufflepuffs are all talking about Diggory."
"I bet the Gryffindors are talking shit about us again," Pansy snapped, spying a group of Gryffindors huddled around at their respective table. "I swear to god, if we ever get a Slytherin champion—"
"There goes Gryffindor Quidditch Player, Angelina Johnson," Theo notified them. Pansy and Blaise both scowled contemptuously.
"And. . . there's Beauxbatons," Effie piped up, as they looked on again.
The students from Beauxbatons were coming through the front doors from the grounds, among them, the veela-girl. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly.
Madame Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks.
"Don't think I didn't notice the heart eyes," Draco says, smirking at Theo, Pansy, and Effie.
Pansy rolled her eyes, "You shut up, ferret."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Draco snapped at her.
"Trouble in paradise," Blaise coughed.
Pansy harrumphed at him snottily, "Effie, let's go. I bet Weaslette has the answers to the World Literature homework by now."
Effie chuckled as she obliged, Pansy dragging her away. Ginny was quick to follow them after sharing a glance with Effie. "What's wrong with her?"
"Malfoy happened," Effie whispers.
"Effie, I love you very much but if you could stop talking about me like I'm not here," Pansy glowers at her and Ginny, before looking at some of the Durmstrang boys passing by. "Oh boys. Lots and lots of hotter boys than that ferret."
Ginny looked at Effie with an expression that says, what in the hell does she see in Malfoy? Effie shrugged.
A light rain had started to fall by midafternoon—it was very cozy sitting by the fire, listening to the gentle patter of the drops on the window. The three girls found themselves in the library, going unnoticed as they stayed near the Restricted Section.
"I've been thinking—"
"—that's dangerous," Pansy said, scanning her nails and scowling down at the pile of books about antidotes near Effie.
"—don't hurt yourself while you're at it," Ginny says at the same time.
Effie looked up with a deadpan expression, her hand pausing from correcting some of the errors in a Sixth Year Potions book she insisted on buying. Libatius Borage was crossed out, replaced by her name, Effie Stark.
"I was thinking—" Effie shot them stern looks. "—that I want to become an animagus."
Ginny fell off her chair as Pansy looked up so fast her neck nearly cracked. "You what?"
Thankfully, Effie had thought to put up a silencing charm so Madam Pince and other undesirable people wouldn't hear them. That woman was batshit crazy about the books here in the library.
"I want to become an animagus," Effie repeats nonchalantly, like she was talking about what she wanted to eat for dinner. "I made extensive reading about it—" She held up a book stolen from the Restricted Section and disguised as a muggle story book. "—and I want to take my chances to be able to breathe better. Because of all things I could be bad at, it had to be breathing."
"But it could go wrong!" Ginny hissed at her, worried, but excited. "For all we know, you could get stuck as half-human, half-animal."
"It's magic, Ginny," Effie pressed on. "Anything is possible—not to mention, magic always has loopholes."
"Absolutely not," Pansy seconded. "What in the fuck possessed you to think that's a good idea?"
"If she's adamant about it, maybe we could all try together," Ginny relents, her wide eyes alight with excitement.
"You try, Weaslette," Pansy scowled.
By half past five it was growing dark, and the three girls decided it was time to get back up to the castle for the Halloween feast—and, more importantly, the announcement of the school champions. Ginny looked at Effie strangely, amazed at how many books she actually carries in that small, leather bag of hers it might as well by a mobile library.
When they 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.
The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Like 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.
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, Professor 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 into a state of semidarkness. 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. . .
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."
"Surprise, surprise," Effie says sarcastically as everyone clapped, Draco seeming the loudest at their table.
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. . . is Fleur Delacour!"
Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms. Pansy snorted.
"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"
"That's your ex!" Pansy squealed in her ear.
"Pansy!" Effie snapped in embarrassment as the Slytherins surrounding them laughed. "He's not the only ex I had!"
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 toward the chamber behind the teachers' 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—"
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. 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 and Lillian Stark."
🃏