❝ MERLIN'S GHOST! ❞
❝ I MEAN, YOU'RE NOT WRONG. ❞
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Albany Bronwen was no Chosen One by any means, but being haunted by the ghosts of the greatest sorcerer of all time and a former king had to count for something, right?
❃ in which a lone...
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"THE HOGWARTS CHAMPION... IS ALBANY BRONWEN."
Time must have stopped, because Albany had frozen. She couldn't move, couldn't speak; all she could hear was blood rushing in her ears and the rapid pounding of her heart in her throat. Each heartbeat shook her whole body — unless she was trembling anyway, which was equally probable. Her mind had shut down, unable — unwilling — to process what was happening. It was a dream, for how could it be anything else? It didn't make an ounce of sense, she wasn't worthy, she was the only student in the room who didn't want their name to come out of the goblet. So how.... Why?
"Albany," Carly was saying, and her voice, though distant, grew slowly louder and more insistent as her hearing returned. "Albany!"
The Slytherin table was in uproar; her classmates were screaming and stamping, their tumultuous applause making up for the half-hearted attempts of congratulation from the other three tables. The only person completely quiet was her, frozen where she stood, feeling precariously unbalanced on her feet; Faith was also shocked into silence, and Carly was reaching across the table to gently nudge her.
"You have to go," she urged, and Albany stared blankly at her, unable to form words with her mouth.
"GO ON BRONWEN!" an older Slytherin was yelling from up the table, and similar roars of encouragement sounded from all around. She didn't even know most of them.
"Albany, you have to move," Arthur said from behind her, and maybe his voice was shaky; it was impossible to tell over the commotion.
Stiffly, she managed to climb over the bench, and walked slowly towards the staff table, feeling weak on her legs. The distance seemed to grow with every step she took, a never-ending path of cheering and motivated shouts from her peers. She received numerous pats on the back, and one or two playful punches to the shoulder, though couldn't acknowledge her housemates with so much as a glance or a smile, completely dumbfounded. When she eventually reached the teachers' table, it seemed even some of her professors were surprised, though clapped for her anyway. She barely noticed Moody's cold stare as she staggered past, nearly tripping over her own feet as she followed Fleur and Viktor's footsteps into the champions' room. One clear thought finally managed to make itself heard in the shell-shocked state that her mind had been left in; I'm so dead.
It was a small room, and she wondered vaguely if it had been created just for this purpose; she had never noticed it before. The walls were lined with moving portraits, who were whispering excitedly to each other as she entered. A blazing fire crackled in the fireplace opposite the door.
Krum was leaning against the mantelpiece, looking remarkably impressive silhouetted against the flames. He turned and acknowledged Albany with a single nod as she entered hesitantly, and it struck her for the first time how truly tall and broad he was.
