Heri didn't have time to think, her battle-instinct had gone into overdrive, causing her to jump to her feet the second the fire had erupted. Power rushing through her limbs, Heri grabbed the long table with both hands and flung it away with all her strength, sending the table, the benches connected to it, and the seated students screeching back into the far wall.
The fireball was upon her when —
WHUMP! FssssSSSSHHHH— BTOOM!
Heri had thrown herself back onto her rear and let her fist swing. Despite how fire was definitely not a solid, she had pounded it away into one of the high windows used for owls. The collision of extremely hot fire with stone and glass blasted a gaping hole a good six feet in diameter in the wall.
Heri curled into herself, panting and clutching her still clenched fist to her chest. She did not go unscathed from impact; on top of the horrible blistering and charred flesh of her hand and forearm, she could feel broken bones in her knuckles and maybe even her wrist.
"POTTER/HERI!" was exclaimed all over the Hall.
Her friends came scrambling from every table as the professors sprang forward to reach her. Hands grabbed her all over.
In the clamber of getting to Heri, the fire in the goblet had turned red again, earning loud shrieks of alarm. Sparks flew out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.
Automatically, Professor Dumbledore reached out seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause in which the headmaster stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room couldn't help but stare at him in return.
And then Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out: "Heri Potter."
Fucking crickets.
There were no words.
"What?" Heri breathed. She looked around with wide eyes as her voice rose in disbelief. "What?!"
Professors Sprout and McGonagall on either side of Heri helped her to her feet as her friends hovered frantically.
Dumbledore looked grim.
"Professor Sinistra, if you could fetch Madam Pomfrey? Professor Flitwick, would you be so good as to patch Miss Potter up until Madam Pomfrey arrives?"
Both teachers sprang into action, Professor Sinistra all but running from the hall and Professor Flitwick wielding his wand gravely.
"Would you ladies please escort Miss Potter into the side-chamber?"
"B-but . . . What?" Heri cried, confusion all over her. "I-I-I didn't . . . What's going on?"
But the headmaster was adamant.
"This is a discussion best held without an audience."
Heri was led through the door out of the Great Hall and into a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite of the door.
Krum, Cedric, and Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when Heri was brought in and frowned.
"What 'as 'appened?" she asked, drawing the attention of the boys.
Heri was ushered to a chair where Professor Flitwick did his best to ease some of her pain and repair what he could.
"Heri?" cried Cedric. He rushed over and grabbed her shoulder, eyeing her damaged limb with alarm. "Merlin! What's happened?! Why are you hurt?!"
"A questioned we'd all like answered, Mr Diggory," said Professor Dumbledore, coming through the door at a brisk pace. Behind him came the foreign head-teachers and both Ministry officials.
Mr Bagman came in with an expression that looked as worried as it was awed.
"Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen . . . lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce — incredible though it may seem — the fourth Triwizard champion?"
Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Heri. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Heri and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Delacour, however, flipped her hair back, frowning, and said, "Eez now ze time for jokes, Meester Bagman?"
"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Heri's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"
There was much arguing after that. Heated words went back and forth over the Goblets irregular actions and its selection of Heri. The Hogwarts professors were distressed by the near-immolation of a table of their students and the injury Heri suffered. The foreign instructors, while bewildered and horrified at the terrible incident that was only just avoided, were disturbed by the fact that another Hogwarts student had been chosen.
"But zair 'as been a mistake!" Delacour said. "She cannot compete. She eez too young!"
Bagman only too eagerly contradicted Delacour's assertion.
"The age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as her name's come out of the goblet . . . I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage . . . It's down in the rules, you're obliged. Heri will just have to do the best she —"
"I have to?" Heri interrupted. She was being fussed over Madam Pomfrey as Cedric stood on her other side and held her hand in support. She sent the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports a dubious look. "Why? I didn't enter my name; why am I obligated to do anything?"
"So you say you didn't enter?" asked Karkaroff, his smile steely and his eyes hard.
Heri was not cowed. In an even tone, she said, "I certainly did not, sir."
"Ah, but of course she is lying!" cried Madame Maxime, looking very put out.
Well.
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