Chloe Cullen 4 - A Harry Potter and Twilight Crossover

Chapter 9: The Goblet of Fire

"I don't believe it!" says Ron as we go back to the castle. "Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!" "For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," says Hermione. I can kind of see why Ron is freaking out, but I don't care as much as he does. We walk to the Gryffindor table and sit down. The students from Beauxbatons are sitting at the Ravenclaw table, and they're looking sad for some reason. "Over here! Come and sit here!" Ron hisses. He pushes me to try to make space. "Over here! Chloe, budge up, make a space -" I don't move. "Too late," says Ron bitterly. The Durmstrang students are sitting at the Slytherin table. The Durmstrang students look a lot more impressed than the Beauxbatons students, who are looking a little stuck up.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," says Dumbledore once everyone is seated. "I have a great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable." I hear a Beauxbatons girl laugh, and I glare at her. "The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," says Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!" As soon as he finishes talking, food appears. There are also several dishes from both France and Bulgaria that I recognize (since I've stayed in both countries on vacations).

"What's that?" Ron asks, pointing at a French dish. "Bouillabaisse," I tell him. "Bless you," he says. I roll my eyes. "It's French. My family has a summer home in France and whenever I'm there, my parents have me eat some of the local dishes. It tastes a lot better than it looks," I inform. "I'll take your word for it," says Ron. A few minutes later, we have a visitor. The girl from Beauxbatons that laughed. She has long blonde hair - only a few shades lighter than mine - that is the same length as mine. She has large, deep blue eyes and white, even teeth. I look around and see everyone else - especially the guys - staring at her with a look I definitely recognize. I glare at her again.

"Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" Ron goes purple, and I growl. "You can have it," I say shortly. "You 'ave finished wiz it?" I merely nod and push the dish slightly towards her. Once she's gone, Ron seems to recover his senses. "She's a veela!" he says hoarsely. "No she's not!" I snarl. Even so, I can see many boys looking at the girl the way they used to look at me - well, apart from Ron. Mouths open, practically drooling, speechless. "I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl! They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!" Say WHAT?! I scoff and stomp on Ron's foot as hard as I can. Purposefully, I turn away from him and talk with Fred, who's looking away from that girl.

It feels like forever by the time dinner is over. We have been joined by Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch. "The moment has come," says Dumbledore. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket, 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." Bagman gets a very loud applause. "Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts."

Then, Filch brings in the casket. It looks very old. "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 ways... their magical prowess, their daring, the powers of deduction, and, of course, their ability to cope with danger." The hall goes silent. "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 pulls out a huge wooden cup that has flames coming out of it. "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, 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. 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." I waste no time in getting up. I'm still bitter about that veela girl, and offended by what Ron said. Without waiting for anyone, I walk up to the girls' dormitory.

The next day, I wake up late. Fred, George, and Lee think they have found a way to fool the age line. An aging potion. I tell them it won't work, but they don't believe me. That's good, I guess, because now I get to see what happens when their names are rejected. The four of us hurry down the staircase. "Done it," Fred says triumphantly. "Just taken it." "What?" Ron asks. "The Aging Potion, dung brains." "One drop each. We only need to be a few months older." "We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," says Lee. I said they don't have to share it with me. "I'm not sure this is going to work, you know. I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this," Hermione says, telling them what I've already said. "Ready? C'mon then - I'll go first -" Fred pulls the slip of parchment from his pocket. With the eyes of every person on him, he takes a great breath and steps over the line.

For a second, I think I'm going to get told 'I told you so' because nothing happens. George thinks it worked, because he steps over the line. Then there's a loud sizzling sound, and both of them are hurled out of the circle. They land painfully, ten feet away on the stone floor and they sprout identical long white beards. Everyone laughs, including me. "I did warn you. 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." The four of us - while Lee and I are laughing - go up to the hospital wing.

When we get there, Madam Pomfrey shakes her head disapprovingly at Fred and George. "Mr. Jordan, you are free to go. Miss Cullen, take a seat. Your mother wants me to check you over again," Madam Pomfrey says. I groan. It appears as if my mom is talking to Madam Pomfrey more than she's talking to me! I knew sending her that letter would be a bad idea. Grudgingly, I sit down on the bed behind Fred. Madam Pomfrey is actually taking my mom seriously! Not only does she give me a regular check-up, but she checks me over for things that pneumonia could develop into. Turns out, my temperature is a little too high for comfort. She gives me another Pepperup Potion and makes me stay in the Hospital Wing until the side effects wear off. It's not until after it gets dark that I'm allowed to leave.

When I get into the Great Hall, it doesn't take me long to find Ron and Hermione, but I don't see Harry. Everyone's whispering, and even though I'm late, no one appears to look at me or care. I sit down between Ron and Fred. "Where have you been?" asks Hermione. "Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey is getting paranoid. What happened?" I ask. For several minutes, they recap the choosing of the champions, and what had happened a few minutes prior. "What? That's not possible," I say. They don't respond. Clearly, it is possible. How, I don't know. "Well, Harry clearly didn't put his name in that Goblet. He doesn't like being the center of attention," I say. Hermione agrees with me, however Ron doesn't. We discuss it all the way up to Gryffindor tower. Ron seems upset, and I think he's acting like a brat. When we get to the common room, we each go in our separate directions.