☤ Pseudonym ☤

~Chapter Six~

One Thursday evening we are all gathered in the great hall. All the Hogwarts students are milling around, chatting loudly.

Mr Crouch, Snape and McGonagall push their way through the sea of students. Following them are the two visiting schools. Everyone sits as they enter, making sure we get a good view of the selection. I sit next to Hermione, in front of Ron and Neville and behind Dean, Harry and Seamus. Things between Harry and I have been more awkward than ever. We can barely stand to be in the same room together since that night in the common room. 

Hermione tucks her frizzy hair behind her ear, but it fails to stay there. She is very cynical about the whole tournament and thinks anyone who enters is an 'idiot'. But even Hermione clasps her hands together and leans forward, intrigued to see who are the contestants.

Dumbledore's booming voice sounds in the hall, silencing everyone. "Now the moment you've all been waiting for: The Champion Selection." Music sounds in celebration with his words. He raises a cloaked arm and circles is around the room. The flames in the lamps dim with his action.  His hand then moves to the goblet. He approaches is and places his palm on the side. I grip the edges of my seat, but not in excitement like everyone else. I am afraid of this tournament and what it will mean for the future. Not just mine, but the future of the world. 

Dumbledore has now moved away from the goblet and is watching it in awe. Nothing is happening. Everyone looks a little confused. We were expecting a big show or at least something to happen.

Then the flame shrinks and turns a violent red. It bursts upwards and returns to its original blue. A piece of paper flutters down from the sky, smoking trailing behind it. Dumbledore catches it in a clenched fist.

Dumbledore smiles but does not look surprised as he reads it. "The Durmstrang Champion is Viktor Krum." Cheers erupt throughout the hall.

Hermione leads over to me, "I don't see why they call it a champion for God's sake. They haven't won yet." she hisses and I nod my head in agreement. But she does not stop there, "I mean I don't see the big deal with Krum, he's not even that good looking. Like at all." I smile to myself. Someone has a crush and they will not admit it. I hum to pretend I am still listening to her babbling. 

The Beauxbatons Champion is Fleur Delacour, inscribed in flowery handwriting on a pretty piece of blue paper. She gracefully walks out of the room. The boys whistle as she passes them. I know she is half veela but they need to calm down a bit. 

For Hogwarts the Champion was Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff. I few people had words to say about the pretty boy being chosen. But overall he had the support of everyone. He swaggers to the front and shakes Dumbledore's hand. As he passes me he smirks at me and winks. I look down and blush deeply. Hermione nudges me with her elbow and we giggle. Actually giggle, like the couple of schoolgirls that we are. I look up to see Harry staring at me, but he looks away as our eyes make contact. 

'Excellent! There we have this year's Triwizard Champions.' Dumbledore addresses the hall once more. A few faces show disappoint as they have not been chosen, but the overwhelming feeling in the hall is celebration and excitement for the events to come.

Dumbledore drones on about the greatness of the tournament, et cetera. I zone out and focus on a hangnail on my right hand. I freeze in my movements as everyone starts to cheer again. I look up to rest my eyes on the cup. The Triwizard cup. That was what I needed to get Harry's hands on. My goal. But Harry's name had not been announced. What was Barty's plan?

All of sudden the blue flames start to move again. Not in the same way as before, but in random jerky movements. Dumbledore cautiously approaches the goblet, his face furrowed in concern and intrigue. The flames turn red and Dumbledore shields his eyes from the bright glow. In one final burst of energy another piece of burnt paper flies out. The students and teachers gasp in astonishment. I don't. I know what name is written on this piece of paper. I knew that if I looked closely I would recognise the hasty scrawl of the words. A handwriting I knew all too well. 

'Harry Potter.' Dumbledore shakily voiced the name that is rattling around my head. There is utter silence in the great hall. Something that is quite unheard of. The name is repeated as Harry is too stunned to move at all. Hermione shoves Harry out of seat as he is frozen like a statue. The whispers begin as he heads towards the Champions' room. I feel pity for Harry in this moment. Even Dumbledore stares bewildered at him. As if Harry has the faintest idea what is going on. No one in this room does. 

Except me.