Chapter 197
At that moment, Albus Dumbledore's gaze drifted, almost unintentionally, toward the Slytherin table. His eyes met Draco Malfoy's for a brief instant.
Then Dumbledore raised his wand and gave it a sharp wave.
In an instant, every candle in the hall went out—except for the ones glowing inside the jack-o'-lanterns hanging above the students' heads. The Great Hall fell into a dim half-light, half-darkness. Only the Goblet of Fire burned brilliantly, its blue-white flames bursting with sparks, brighter than anything else in the room.
Everyone stared.
Waiting.
Some even glanced nervously at their watches.
Then suddenly, the flames inside the goblet turned red. Sparks shot outward, and a long tongue of fire leapt up into the air. A charred piece of parchment flew out—
The entire hall held its breath.
Dumbledore caught the parchment. Holding it at a distance, he read it by the flickering light before the flames settled back into their blue-white glow.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he announced in a clear, powerful voice, "is Viktor Krum."
Thunderous applause erupted immediately.
Students from every school clapped sincerely for the Durmstrang champion. But Krum himself looked somewhat weary, likely still recovering from his cold. He rose slowly, walked toward Dumbledore, then turned right, passed along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the adjoining room.
"Excellent, Viktor!" roared Igor Karkaroff, his voice cutting through the applause. "I knew you were destined to be champion!"
Karkaroff was practically glowing with pride. The worry he had shown earlier about Krum's condition was gone. Now that the Goblet had spoken, he was completely at ease.
Gradually, the applause faded. Once again, all eyes turned to the goblet.
A few seconds later, the flames turned red again.
Another parchment shot out.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," Dumbledore read, "is Fleur Delacour."
Fleur stood calmly.
Both she and Olympe Maxime showed little surprise—it was clearly something they had expected.
But among the Beauxbatons students, the reaction was very different. Several girls burst into tears, burying their faces in their arms, sobbing in disappointment.
"I knew you'd be walking into that room soon," Fleur said as she passed by the Slytherin table. She flicked her long silver hair, as if deliberately, and smiled at Malfoy.
"Thank you," Malfoy replied simply.
Fleur then walked gracefully toward the adjoining room.
Now—
Only one name remained.
The tension in the hall rose sharply.
At the Gryffindor table, Harry Potter was gripping his hands tightly beneath the table. His heart pounded uncontrollably.
He was nervous.
The Slytherin table was no different. Their students stared intently at the one who had brought them so much glory before.
Malfoy, however, looked completely calm.
Whether it was confidence—
Or indifference—
No one could tell.
"The champion for Hogwarts," Dumbledore announced, "is Draco Malfoy!"
"Oh, come on!" Ron Weasley groaned, covering his face in frustration. He clearly didn't want to accept it.
Hermione Granger glanced toward the Slytherin table, her expression complicated. She didn't know what to say to comfort Harry.
Somewhere deep down, she even felt a trace of relief.
"I'll go talk to Professor Dumbledore about house-elf rights," she muttered, shaking her head as if to push that thought away.
Meanwhile, the Slytherin table exploded into cheers.
Shouts, stomping, and applause filled the air.
Some students even made provocative gestures toward the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. The tension between houses had been high for days, and now Slytherin was reveling in its victory.
Only after Dumbledore cleared his throat did the noise settle slightly.
"Congratulations, Malfoy," said Cedric Diggory as Malfoy passed by the Hufflepuff table. His tone was calm, composed—he had already accepted the result with quiet dignity.
"I was just a bit lucky," Malfoy replied modestly.
But his thoughts were far from simple.
Everyone fought for the position of champion—
But who could predict what would come after?
What Cedric lost was only temporary glory.
What he gained… was his life.
It was a fair trade.
Of course, only Malfoy knew that.
If he said it aloud, people would think he was insane—like Professor Trelawney—or assume he was mocking them.
"Wonderful!" Dumbledore said brightly once the noise subsided. "Now our three champions have been chosen. I trust that all of you—Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang alike—will support them fully. By cheering them on, you will also be contributing to this great event—"
But suddenly—
He stopped.
Everyone saw it at once.
The flames in the goblet had turned red again.
Sparks burst outward.
Another tongue of fire shot into the air—
And a fourth piece of parchment appeared.
Dumbledore instinctively reached out and caught it.
He stared at the name written on it.
Silence filled the hall.
Everyone stared at him.
Then Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"Harry Potter."
At the staff table, Alastor Moody—who had appeared to be dozing—suddenly opened his eyes. A faint, almost imperceptible smile flickered across his lips.
Then, just as quickly, he closed his eyes again—
As if nothing had happened.