Hogwarts
9:00 PM
A transparent-looking moon was shining in the dark sky shimmering over the Forbidden Forest.
Harry, standing between Ron and Hermione in the fourth row from the front. 'Nearly six,' said Ron, checking his watch and then staring down the drive which led to the front gates. 'How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?'
'I doubt it,' said Hermione.
'How, then? Broomsticks?' Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.
'I don't think so … not from that far away …'
'A Portkey?' Ron suggested. 'Or they could Apparate – maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?'
'You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?' said Hermione impatiently.
They scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent and quite as usual. Harry was starting to feel cold. He wished they'd hurry up … maybe the foreign students were preparing a dramatic entrance … he remembered what Mr Weasley had said back on the campsite before the Quidditch World Cup – 'Always the same, we can't resist showing off when we get together …'
And then Dumbledore called out from the back row, where he stood with the other teachers – 'Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!'
'Where?' said many students eagerly, all looking in different directions.
'There!' yelled a sixth-year, pointing over the Forest.
Something large, much larger than a broomstick – or, indeed, a hundred broomsticks – was hurtling across the deep blue sky towards the castle, growing larger all the time.
'It's a dragon!' shrieked one of the first-years, losing her head completely.
'Don't be stupid … it's a flying house!' said Dennis Creevey.
Dennis's guess was closer … as a gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, they saw a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring towards them, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant. The horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.
Harry just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.
Harry saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage – a shoe the size of a child's sled – followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman he had ever seen in his life.
Harry had only ever seen one person as large as this woman in his life, and that was Hagrid; he doubted whether there was an inch difference in their heights. Yet somehow – maybe simply because he was used to Hagrid – this woman (now at the foot of the steps, and looking around at the waiting, wide-eyed crowd) seemed even more unnaturally large. As she stepped into the light flooding from the Entrance Hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, olive-skinned face, large, black, liquid-looking eyes and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.
Her face relaxed into a gracious smile, and she walked forwards towards Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely bent to kiss it.
'My dear Madame Maxime,' he said. 'Welcome to Hogwarts.'
'Dumbly-dorr,' said Madame Maxime, in a deep voice. 'I 'ope I find you well?'
'On excellent form, I thank you,' said Dumbledore.
'My pupils,' said Madame Maxime, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.
Harry, whose attention had been focused completely upon Madame Maxime, now noticed that around a dozen boys and girls – all, by the look of them, in their early adulthood – had emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. They were shivering, which was unsurprising, given that their robes seemed to be made of fine silk, and none of them were wearing cloaks. A few of them had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. From what Harry could see of their faces (they were standing in Madame Maxime's enormous shadow), they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces.
''As Karkaroff arrived yet?' Madame Maxime asked.
'He should be here any moment,' said Dumbledore. 'Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?'
'Warm up, I think,' said Madame Maxime.
''Come,' said Madame Maxime imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.
'They stood, shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madame Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then –
'Can you hear something?' said Ron suddenly.
Harry listened; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting towards them from out of the darkness; a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner was moving along a river-bed …
'The lake!' yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. 'Look at the lake!'
From their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water – except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the centre; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks – and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor …
What seemed to be a long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the heart of the whirlpool … and then Harry saw the rigging …
'It's a mast!' he said to Ron and Hermione.
Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it was a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide towards the bank. A few moments later, they heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.
People were disembarking; they could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them, Harry noticed, seemed to be built along the lines of Crabbe and Goyle … but then, as they drew nearer, walking up the lawns into the light streaming from the Entrance Hall, he saw that their bulk was really due to the fact that they were wearing cloaks of some kind of shaggy, matted fur. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort; sleek and silver, like his hair.
'Dumbledore!' he called heartily, as he walked up the slope. 'How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?'
'Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff,' Dumbledore replied.
Karkaroff had a fruity, unctuous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle, they saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.
'Dear old Hogwarts,' he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and Harry noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. '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 …'Karkaroff beckoned forwards one of his students. As the boy passed, Harry caught a glimpse of a prominent, curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He didn't need the punch on the arm Ron gave him, or the hiss in his ear, to recognise that profile.
'Harry – it's Krum!' 'I don't believe it!' Ron said, in a stunned voice, as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. 'Krum, Harry! Viktor Krum!'
'For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player,' said Hermione.
'Only a Quidditch player?' Ron said, looking at her as though he couldn't believe his ears. 'Hermione – he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!'
As they recrossed the Entrance Hall with the rest of the Hogwarts students, heading for the Great Hall, Harry saw Lee Jordan jumping up and down on the soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of Krum's head.
They walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Ron took care to sit on the side facing the doorway, because Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students were still gathered around it, apparently unsure about where they should sit. The students from Beauxbatons 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.
'It's not that cold,' said Hermione irritably, who was watching them. 'Why didn't they bring cloaks?'
'Over here! Come and sit over here!' Ron hissed. 'Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space –'
'What?'
'Too late,' said Ron bitterly.
Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. Harry could see Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle looking very smug about this. As he watched, Malfoy bent forwards to speak to Krum.
'They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot,' said Harry. 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.
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.
'Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly – guests,' said Dumbledore, 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,' said Dumbledore. 'I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!'
He sat down, and Harry saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation.
The dishes 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 Harry had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.
'What's that?' said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.
'Bouillabaisse,' said Hermione.
'Bless you,' said Ron.
'It's French,' said Hermione. 'I had it on holiday, summer before last, it's very nice.'
'I'll take your word for it,' said Ron, helping himself to black pudding.
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 coloured 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, blood red.
Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at Harry, Ron and Hermione with a very heavily bandaged hand.
'you'll be able to see who's just arrived.'said Hermione briskly,
She was pointing up at the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, while Mr Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime.
'What are they doing here?' said Harry in surprise.
'They organised the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?' said Hermione. 'I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start.'
When the second course arrived they noticed a number of unfamiliar puddings, too. Ron examined an odd sort of pale blancmange closely, then moved it carefully a few inches to his right, so that it would be clearly visible from the Ravenclaw table. The girl who looked like a Veela appeared to have eaten enough, however, and did not come over to get it.
Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. Harry felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. Several seats along from them, Fred and George were leaning forwards, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.
'The moment has come,' said Dumbledore, 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 –'
'The what?' Harry muttered.
Ron shrugged.
'– just to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year. But firstly, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Co-operation' – there was a smattering of polite applause – 'and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.'
'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 which 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.'
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,' said Dumbledore, 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,' said Dumbledore. 'Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Hallowe'en, 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,' said Dumbledore, '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 twenty one 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 champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are whole-heartedly prepared to play, before you drop your name into the Goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Goodnight to you all.'
'An Age Line!' Fred Weasley said, his eyes glinting, as they all made their way across the Hall to the doors into the Entrance Hall. 'Well, that should be fooled by an Ageing Potion, shouldn't it? But this query was answered almost instantly; they were level with the Slytherin table now, and Karkaroff had just bustled up to his students.
'Back to the ship, then,' he was saying. 'Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?'
Harry saw Krum shake his head as he pulled his furs back on.
'Professor, I vood like some vine,' said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.
'I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff,' snapped Karkaroff, his warmly paternal air vanishing in an instant. 'I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy –'
Karkaroff turned and led his students towards the doors, reaching them at exactly the same moment as Harry, Ron and Hermione. Harry stopped to let him walk through first.
'Thank you,' said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at him.
And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to Harry, and stared at him as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their Headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt, too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up Harry's face, and fixed upon his scar. The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at Harry, too. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw comprehension dawn on a few of their faces. The boy with food all down his front nudged the girl next to him and pointed openly at Harry's forehead.
'Yeah, that's Harry Potter,' said a growling voice from behind them.
Professor Karkaroff spun around. Mad-Eye Moody was standing there, leaning heavily on his staff, his magical eye glaring unblinkingly at the Durmstrang Headmaster.
The colour drained from Karkaroff's face as Harry watched. A terrible look of mingled fury and fear came over his face.
Without another word, Professor Karkaroff swept his students away with him. Moody watched him out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face.