POTTER FILES: THE HERO'S CUP

Chapter 3: Choosing of Champions

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Percy Jackson nor do I share the views and beliefs of the characters unless I stated otherwise.

Note: The timeline of the HP universe has been changed to fit PJO universe. Some slight changes have been made to HP canon to fit girl Harry. So, Iris(fem!Harry) Potter was born on 31 July 1993 and COS happened in 2005-2006.

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You might have already read it many times but this chapter is in Iris' Pov.

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There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Hermione, Neville and I hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited our bags and books as we had been instructed, pulled on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

We ordered ourselves into lines as usual but this time we had the youngsters at the front with the seniority rising towards the back. Our Head of the House, Professor Charity Burbage, lead us this time. Even after two months, it was weird to see someone other than McGonagall leading us. I had to admit though that she rose up to our expectations. She could be kind and approachable to the first years and stern and unrelenting to the miscreants who crossed the line.

We filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. After the other Houses arrived, we spread out in such a way that every year formed a row with the tallest on both sides and the shortest in the middle. The transition was smooth due to the amount of times we practiced during the last few weekends. I noticed, to my amusement, that, to the visitors, we would look like four army divisions with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in the middle and Gryffindor and Slytherin coming up the flanks.

It was a cold, clear evening; dusk was falling and a pale, transparent looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. All of us wondered when and how the other schools would arrive but none of us opened our mouths. Even the most unruly ones learned that any faltering in discipline would only result in more of our free time being taken up by practices. Peer pressure was an unrelenting force that fell even the most stubborn ones. There were of course many speculations about the method of their arrival ranging from broomsticks, port keys to flying carpets. Someone suggested Apparition but Hermione firmly shut them down by saying Apparition was impossible inside Hogwarts grounds as written in her holy book. While it's usually true, I knew that the Headmaster had the authority to temporarily lift those restrictions.

We scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual. Maybe the foreign students were preparing a dramatic entrance.

It was then that I saw it, a gigantic, powder blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward us, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of the mechanical Colchis bulls. It took some time for the others to spot what I did and some more for them to recognise it.

The carriage hurtled even lower startling the front rows of students to move backwards forcing us to reciprocate. The horse hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground at a tremendous speed slightly in front of the first row of students causing them to jump back squeaking. I had a feeling it was quite intentional, a show of skill and finese. 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. I recognized them alright. They were the descendants of the steeds that drove the Sun chariot.

As the door of the carriage opened, I absently noted the symbol on it, two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars. A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps. He sprang back respectfully. Then I 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 I had ever seen in my life. The reason for the size of the carriage, and of the horses, was obvious. She was part giant.

Madame Maxime had 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.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of them standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," Madame Maxime said in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

I idly wondered how many European languages had 'h' silent.

"In excellent form, I thank you.", Dumbledore said.

"My pupils", Madame Maxime said, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

The students had all emerged from the carriage and were now standing behind Madame Maxime. Most of them seemed to be in their late teens but some of them to the back looked younger. Perhaps, they were here for the junior division of the events. 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 had wrapped scarves and shawls around their heads. I could see that they were staring up at Hogwarts with apprehensive looks on their faces. I knew that Greek and Roman demigods felt an innate sense of danger and hostility when they were in the vicinity of the other's territory. I did not know if it extended to the magicals under their aegis.

Suddenly, there was a sound like that of an explosion and it was them who were jumping back and screaming in fear. The screams were clearly feminine but there was no way to know whether they came from female or male mouth. Madame Maxime was in front of them, holding a wand that was as much of a giant as she was, protecting them with her bulk. She realised it was not necessary when one of her students pointed at the sky. In sky above the castle, it was written 'Welcome to Hogwarts' at the top in English, at the bottom in French with Beauxbatons coat of arms in the middle. They faded away and was replaced by 'Messers Fred and George Weasley of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' and the 'Messers' changed to 'Monsiuers' for the French version. The Weasley twins were not going to ignore such a prime opportunity for marketing on an international level just because they were miffed at being passed over for Hero's Cup.

"I apologise, on behalf of my students, for scaring yours.", Dumbledore said jovially, "I am afraid they became too enthusiastic about welcoming you."

"Eet was an entertaining display.", she replied nodding. Well played, old man.

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?", Madame Maxime asked looking around.

"He should be here any moment.", Dumbledore said. "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", Madame Maxime said. "But ze 'orses —"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them.", Dumbledore said, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other — er — charges."

"My steeds require — er — forceful 'andling.", Madame Maxime said, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong. . . ."

I did not think she was being insulting. If they were as . . . . difficult as their ancestors, they would require force to keep them in line. Once Selene had tried to pet her brother's steeds and they set fire to her hair. Helios had found it funny but she was furious. At night, after he went to sleep, she threw them into the sea. He did not find it out until the next morning and immediately went in search of them. They survived but they had developed an intense fear of any large bodies of water.

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job.", said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," Madame Maxime said, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," Dumbledore said, also bowing.

"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.

We stood, shivering slightly, 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 —

I could then hear something; a loud and oddly eerie noise was drifting toward them from out of the darkness: a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, as though an immense vacuum cleaner were moving along a riverbed. . . .

"The lake!", yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

After years of being the commentator for Quidditch, it was not surprising that he was the first to spot the action. From our position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, we 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 center; 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 I saw the rigging. . . . It's a mast.

Slowly, magnificently, the ship rose out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a strangely skeletal look about it, as though it were a resurrected wreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at its portholes looked like ghostly eyes. It seemed, just like we repurposed an old steam train, they took over an old pirate ship. Finally, with a great sloshing noise, the ship emerged entirely, bobbing on the turbulent water, and began to glide toward the bank. A few moments later, we heard the splash of an anchor being thrown down in the shallows, and the thud of a plank being lowered onto the bank.

They disembarked the ship and approached us. As they came nearer, I noticed that, unlike the previous group, all of them 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; 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.

It kickstarted the next set of fireworks, this time in English and German. Unlike the Beauxbaton students, they did not react much. They casually looked at the fireworks, and after it was over, turned back. I wondered what kind of life they had in their school that they were indifferent towards fireworks and explosions.

"Some things change, some things stay the same. Dear old Hogwarts, how I have missed you", he said, looking up at the castle and smiling; his teeth were rather yellow, and I noticed that his smile did not extend to his eyes, which remained cold and shrewd. "Come along, into the warmth, boys and girls . . . you don't mind, do you Dumbledore? We've had a rather long journey."

Dumbledore moved aside and waved his hand in a grand gesture. "No, I don't mind. I hope your students enjoy their time here."

I looked around at others. Perhaps, it was because I knew him better or they were too busy ogling the International Seeker Victor Krum, but no one else seemed to have noticed that Dumbledore's welcome was less warm and sincere with Durmstrang than Beauxbatons.

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The moment we entered the Great Hall, we noticed that it was different from the usual. Along with the four House tables and the staff table, there were two smaller tables, one between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, and the other between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. The Durmstrang students went straight to the table next to Slytherin leaving the other to Beauxbaton students. We went over to the Gryffindor table and sat down.

I noticed that 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. It seemed the rumour that the students at Durmstrang lived a spartan lifestyle were true. The students from Beauxbatons, on the other hand, were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads. They were not very 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. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. I noted that there were four empty chairs I could not account for, two on either side of the Headmaster. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"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."

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"No one's making you stay!", Hermione whispered, bristling at her.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast.", Dumbledore said. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and Karkaroff leaned forward at once and engaged him in conversation. I went back to my dinner trying out the new foreign dishes that were available.

"Look who's arrived?", Hermione said.

I looked up at the staff table and saw that the previously empty seats were now occupied. I recognised Ludo Bagman sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, considering the ridiculous reasons he got into newspaper you had have to live under a rock not to, and Bartemius Crouch, next to Madame Maxime but not the other two. The male amongst them was practically what would come to your mind if anyone asked you what a typical French aristocrat looked like, tall, handsome, with greying blond hair tied in a ponytail. The female was, well I was not sure whether it was just me, she looked a lot like Snape. While she did not have his greasy hair, there were a few similarities like their prominent nose, chin and the way they held themselves.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. I felt a slight thrill of excitement, knowing what was coming. Several seats down from them, Fred and George were leaning forward, staring at Dumbledore with great concentration.

"The moment has come.", Dumbledore said, 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. It's 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", there was a smattering of polite applause which was acknowledged by a stoic face, "Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports", there was a much louder applause for him which he answered by a jovial wave of his hand, "his French counterpart Jean-Louis Cassiel", most of the applause was from Beauxbatons students, and then from other girls, well he was handsome, "his Scandinavian counterpart Esmeralda de Prince", similar to Madam Greengrass' introduction, boys were quite eager to show their approval.

"The four of them 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 that 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; Dennis Creevey actually stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else's.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman, Monsieur Cassiel and Senorita de Prince", Dumbledore said 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. It was exactly as I saw in the dream.

"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.", Dumbledore said. "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," Dumbledore said, "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."

It was Saturday, the day most students would have slept in but, as it was the day champions were chosen, we were not the only ones who get up early. When we went down into the entrance hall, we saw about twenty people milling around it, some of them eating toast, all examining the Hero's Cup. It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

"Anyone put their name in yet?", I asked Demelza Robbins, a Gryffindor girl in Ginny's year.

"All the Durmstrang lot.", she replied. "But I haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."

"I am sure many of them put it in, last night, after we'd all gone to bed.", I said, "And many more must have tried and failed, with no one to witness their humiliation."

I heard a familiar sound of laughter coming from behind me. Turning, I saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase, all three of them looking extremely excited.

"Done it," Fred said in a triumphant whisper to Neville, Hermione and me.

"Just taken it."

"The Aging Potion?", I asked more for confirmation than interest. After all, it was not like they bothered to keep it secret.

"One drop each.", George said, rubbing his hands together with glee. "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.", Lee said, grinning broadly.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know.", Hermione, good old Hermione, warned them. "I'm sure Dumbledore will have thought of this."

Luckily, Fred, George, and Lee ignored her. It was not every day that they were the recipient of someone else's pranks.

"Ready?", Fred said to the other two, quivering with excitement. "C'mon, then — I'll go first —"

I watched, eagerly, as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out of his pocket bearing the words Fred Weasley — Hogwarts. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a moment, nothing happened. George, believing they had succeeded, let out a yell of triumph and jumped in. But the next moment, both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been shot from a giant catapult. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor, and to add insult to injury, there was a loud popping noise, and both of them sprouted identical long white beards.

It seemed they did not consider that Age Line measured the age of their magic rather than the physical age though, to their credit, they did not have the time to research it. Ageing potions and Polyjuice potions only changed the physical age. Otherwise, drinking a Polyjuice potion with Dumbledore's hair in it would have been enough to make someone one of the most powerful wizards ever. Only way I knew to increase magical age was to live extra using a time turner. Even possessions were not something I was sure of.

Then there was the fact that there were other wards which Dumbledore had not spoken of. There was a ward that cancelled the active spells on anything passing through it around two feet beyond the Age Line. There was a particularly clever student who stood outside the Age Line, transfigured his piece of parchment into a bird and had it fly through but on passing through the ward, it reverted into the piece of parchment which fell on to the floor and vanished, perhaps another ward. It also stopped another student's attempt to levitate the piece of parchment into the goblet. There was an Anti-Projectile ward which burned up any pieces that were banished or simply thrown. It was close enough to the goblet that anyone who chose that method left believing they had succeeded.

The entrance hall rang with laughter at their new appearance. Even Fred and George joined in, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I did warn you.", said a deep, amused voice, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "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."

Fred and George set off for the hospital wing, accompanied by Lee, who was howling with laughter, and the other students, who were also laughing, went in to breakfast.

The decorations in the Great Hall had changed that morning. As it was Halloween, or All Hallows Eve for those practicing the old ways, a cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner. Neville went over to sit with Ronald, Dean and Seamus while we went to sit with Ginny.

"Have you heard about what happened to the twins?", I asked.

"Let me guess. They used the Ageing potion to get across but ended up with a beard.", she replied.

"That's a good guess.", Hermione said.

"I grew up with them. I believe I can predict what they would do in any situation.", she replied.

We heard cheering out in the entrance hall. We all swiveled around in our seats and saw Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. Angelina came over to us, sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"Are you seventeen, then?", I asked her.

"I had my birthday last week.", Angelina said.

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

"Thanks, Hermione.", Angelina said, smiling at her.

We talked about others who were entering and their chances until we finished breakfast and then left the Hall. The students, atleast the older ones, from Beauxbatons were coming through the front doors from the grounds. Those gathered around the Goblet of Fire stood back to let them pass, watching eagerly. Madame Maxime entered the hall behind her students and organized them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each name entered the fire, it turned briefly red and emitted sparks. When all the Beauxbatons students had submitted their names, Madame Maxime led them back out of the hall and out onto the grounds again.

We went back to our dorms and I spent my time catching up on the much needed sleep. Don't judge me. It was the last free day we would having. After lunch, Hermione, Neville and I stayed at the entrance hall and watched the others putting their name in. We were there when the Head Boy and Head Girl came to put their names in, close to dinner time. Evelyn Rosier was a tall, pale skinned Slytherin girl with shoulder length dark hair that curled to the end. Hermione and I were on speaking terms with her after all the time we went to her asking questions about the competition. We introduced her to Neville and she, in turn, introduced us to the Head Boy. Larson Turpin was a tall boy with curly, shoulder length hair. He was good looking in a nerdy sort of way. I could see the resemblance with his sister Lisa. His friendly, laid back manner was in direct contrast to Rosier's reserved stance yet also complementing. There was a good chance they would get together this year, if they were not already in a relationship. Head Boys and Head Girls had a history of getting together. Working together as part of their duties tended to bleed on to the other sides of life like it did for my mortal parents. Having to organise an international competition together would only increase those chances.

By the time we entered the candlelit Great Hall it was almost full. The Goblet of Fire had been moved; it was now standing in front of Dumbledore's empty chair at the teachers' table. Fred and George — clean-shaven again — seemed to have taken their disappointment fairly well.

"Hope it's Angelina.", Fred said as Neville, Hermione and I sat down.

"So do I!", Hermione replied.

"Well, we'll know soon enough.", I said.

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Like everyone else in the Hall, judging by the constantly craning necks, the impatient expressions on every face, the fidgeting, and the standing up to see whether Dumbledore had finished eating yet, I simply wanted the plates to clear, and to hear who had been selected as champions. At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state; there was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked as tense and expectant as anyone. Ludo Bagman was beaming and winking at various students and Mr. Cassiel gave everyone a friendly smile while Ms. de Prince and Mr. Crouch, however, looked quite uninterested, almost bored.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision.", Dumbledore said. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber", he indicated the door behind the staff table, "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semi darkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting. . . . A few people kept checking their watches. . . . "Any second", Lee Jordan whispered from the seat next to the twins.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped. Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang", he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!", Ron yelled as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall. I wondered whether he, well, played for the other side. He had been exhibiting weird behaviour over the past day, ogling Victor Krum, drooling over him . . . Well, if he was attracted to the same gender, it's his life, his choices and I was not going to judge him for it.

I saw Viktor Krum rise from his table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber. I had a feeling that he was not really interested in the tournament and would have preferred to stay out of it.

"Bravo, Viktor!", Karkaroff boomed, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The other Durmstrang students looked resigned rather than disappointed. Many were shooting their Headmaster fierce glares when they believed no one was looking. It seemed Karkaroff was not very popular among his students. I wondered whether it was because he was an alumni of Hogwarts.

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons.", Dumbledore announced, "is Fleur Delacour!"

A tall girl with silvery, blond hair, who many people had claimed was a Veela, stood up and walked off into the side chamber.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed.", Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party.

"Disappointed" was a bit of an understatement, I thought. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms. I could see that they were not happy tears. What a disgrace!

The hall fell silent again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next . . . The moment of truth.

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion", Dumbledore said, "is Iris Potter!"

The hall fell silent but this time it was from shock rather than excitement. I did not understand why. It was not like I was Ronald Weasley or anything. Then again, none of my fellow students except Hermione and Neville had witnessed my adventures and even they were not there for the 'end boss battle' let alone my quests. To their credit, I did hear some clapping just before I entered the chamber.

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The chamber itself was a small room lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite me. The faces in the portraits turned to look at me as I entered. I saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.

Fleur Delacour looked around at me when I walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

"What is it?", she said. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

Her eyes locked with mine and suddenly it happened. Her eyes turned into a slitted yellow ones more akin to a reptile, her nose elongated into the top portion of a wicked beak while mouth transformed into the lower portion, her skin shifted colour to a deep red to brown and grew scales, her ears grew pointy, her hands shifted into claws, her feet grew talons, two curved horns grew on her head, her form became more hunched and giant scaled wings erupted from her back. The final image was so horrifying it would have caused nightmares for someone with 'less steel in their spine' as the saying went. It was basically the appearance attributed to demons of Christianity.

I blinked my eyes and the blue eyes of the silvery blond beauty stared back. It seemed I had accidentally used my spirit vision and saw her other form. The ability to use spirit sight was something all demigods had, to varying extents, but only gods could control it completely and use it at will, at least as far as I knew. I now understand why most unaware demigods believed that their minds fell asleep or that they were hallucinating. Shifting back into normal sight was disorienting.

Well, at least I knew for sure that she was a Veela. I was not sure whether it was a good thing or bad thing. Veela . . . had a complicated history. I did not know much about the details but I knew for a fact that the Veela were the offspring of the union between the Norse goddess of Love Freya and the dwarves. If we ignored the fact that Empousa drank blood while Veela feasted on the flesh, Veela could be considered the Norse version of Empousas. Like Empousas or Sirens, Veela were always female but unlike them, if the victim was a good looking and healthy specimen of a male, Veela impregnated themselves by . . . forcing themselves on the victim before eating them like a winged version of Black Widow spiders. There were times when they kept men as thralls if they were 'interesting' enough. All the wild tales about succubus actually referred to them though i did not know whether they could actually considered demons. Their presence revitalised seidr, Freya's cult of sorceresses, and made them a force to be reckoned with though their matriarchal stance did not earn them many friends in the patriarchal society that Norse pantheon was.

Then the wand users became prominent and organised themselves as a community and suddenly the humans were not easy prey any more. Just like with every other race, the wizards waged a war with them too, with secret or not-so-secret backing of Greco-Roman pantheon of course. The Veela might have been superior individually but against an organised squad, they faltered. Humans had always had the knack for succeeding against long odds.

That's not considering the rumours of them being hunted down by the Stars of David, a secret division of highly trained wizards loyal to the Church. Yes, you heard it right. I was surprised too when I heard it. Apparently, they did not hate all the magicals, just the witches, in the old meaning of the word. It would be weird for them to hate magicals when all their important guys, like Abraham, David, Solomon were magicals. They believed that magic, or whatever they called it, was Big G's gift to humanity and praying to someone else was like being ungrateful or something. They even had an Angel of Sorcery, Marut or Harut or something.

I was not sure how true it was but there were many people who believed that Holy Church was responsible for the widespread use of the wand and the neutral spells as it nullified our dependance on gods to act as the middle men. As I could not see any of the pantheon gods encouraging practices that would result in less prayers and sacrifices for them, it must be quite true.

Anyway, the Veela eventually lost the war and were restricted to patches of land in the few countries they were not banned from. The relations between the two races warmed with time, enough that they were appointed as the mascots of Bulgaria for the Quidditch World Cup.

"They didn't tell me anything. So, I believe they intend to debrief us here.", I replied.

She looked at me as if I had said something that baffled her. "But-"

The door behind us opened, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, Mr. Cassiel and Ms. de Prince. I heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door. It seemed the door and, perhaps even the walls, had Impermutable Charms.

"Congratulations, ladies and gentlemen!", Ludo Bagman bellowed enthusiastically at us, "The three of you have been selected for the One Hundred and Twentieth Edition of Triwizard Tournament."

"Evidently zair 'as been a mistake, Meester Bagman.", she said frowning. "She cannot be the Hogwarts champion. She ees too young."

"Well . . . that is what makes it so amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at me. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. The Goblet itself doesn't consider the age while selecting the appropriate champions. The times in which it was crafted . . . it's different times . . . much harsher . . ."

I wondered for a moment whether he was a demigod himself. Perhaps, he was part fairy or leprechaun considering his height (lack of) and body structure. I decided it was not important at the moment.

"Madame Maxime!", Fleur said at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little girl ees to compete also!"

Despite myself, I felt a ripple of anger that I kept myself from showing on my face. Just because I was short did not mean I was weak.

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her head brushed the candle filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.

"Madamoiselle Delacour, petite though she may be, she ees not to be underestimated. Ze girl ees Dumbly-door's apprenti.", she chastised imperiously, which caused the Veela girl to duck her head, her cheeks tinted red in embarrassment. "It's less concerning she was chosen, Dumbly-door, more zat she was chosen two times."

What? I must have spoken out in astonishment but no one turned to me as the others were more vocal. It even gained the attention of Victor Krum who stopped brooding in the corner and turned towards the adults with a scowl on his face.

"She might not be concerned but I am. We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore.", Karkaroff said, wearing his steely smile, though his eyes were as cold as ice. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"Don't play the wounded party, Karkaroff.", Professor McGonagall said angrily, "I'll have you know that many of your younger students tried to bypass the protections. There's no need to be petty just because Ms. Potter succeeded where they failed."

Good old Minnie. You could take her out of Gryffindor but you could not take Gryffindor out of her.

"Well, then, let us hear your justification, Professor McGonagall", Karkaroff said coldly, "why was it Dumbledore's apprentice that was chosen? Why does she get two shots at each task?"

"Zair ees no need for 'ostilities, Monsieur, Madame.", Mr. Cassiel spoke gently, but with a firm undertone that showed he was no Gilderoy Lockhart, "It might not be anyone's fault. Ze Goblet was idle for two centuries. It's possible that many of the old enchantments had worn out."

There was an uneasy silence following that statement. None of the ones present wanted to consider the consequences of the Goblet being faulty, especially those of us who were bound to it by magic.

"I am afraid the situation is not so simple, Albus.", Moody's voice came startling us all, "There are signs of tampering on the Goblet."

Well, it was not surprising that a veteran Auror of his standard entered undetected.

"Well, what did you find, Alastor?", Dumbledore asked him.

"You know I am no Curse Breaker, Albus. But whoever tampered with it cast such an overpowered Confundus charm that the traces are still there. I assume they confunded the Goblet to believe that there are four competing schools and put Potter's name in the fourth to ensure her selection as the only one in her category.", Moody replied gruffly.

"Was it Miss Potter?"

Moody shook his head, his grizzled hair shifting to and fro. "No. I am sure it's not the lass. Her magical signature is too distinctive for me to not recognise. Whoever it's, I don't think they had good intentions for her in their mind. Call it a gut feeling if you will."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"Professor Dumbledore, would you mind if I have a look at the extra one?", I asked.

He handed it over to me as he saw no reason to reject it. I looked it over feeling the texture and even smelling it. Everyone's attention was on me waiting for my opinion.

"It was torn off from my History of Magic assignment."

"And you learnt it by . . . smelling the parchment?", Madame Maxime spoke with a weird look on her face. Professor McGonagall sighed as if she had an idea what was coming and Professor Dumbledore looked amused.

"Of course not. My handwriting here is sloppy meaning I wrote it half asleep.", I replied as if it should have been obvious.

If my life was an anime, I was sure I would have seen many people faceplanting on the ground with many exclamation marks hovering over their head. I noticed Karkaroff nodding his head in agreement before he stopped suddenly as if he just remembered that he was supposed to be the pissed off Headmaster of foreign school who should be demanding more concessions. History of Magic had that effect on all Hogwarts graduates. Trolling people was fun. No wonder Luna did it so often.

Ever since our History Professor became the Ghost Professor, the students were expected to do our assignments and tests in a more expensive parchment treated with Parson's solution grade two to increase its magical sensitivity and retentivity, which was necessary for him to be able to read, and imbued with a charm called Ghost's Touch, created by a wizard child of Hades, which allowed Professor Binns to hold and correct assignments and tests like a regular teacher. After all, ghosts had vastly diminished senses as they were mostly there and barely here. I still remembered that, for Nick's Death Day, they arranged for food rotten for months because it was the only thing they could smell and taste. Other teachers needed only grade one, enough to verify that it was the named person that did it, and so did all the usual forms Ministry or other organisations used. I used grade three for the Map. It was an important distinction as only the nameslip torn off my History of Magic assignment would have had enough of my magical signature still left in it for the Goblet to detect. Whether it was enough to bind me, I did not know.

It at least showed that, whoever put my name in, did not do it just to send a message but really wanted me to participate. It also revealed that the culprit was a Hogwarts alumni if not a current student to know such tidbit. I was sure that at least Dumbledore and Moody arrived at the same conclusion after I revealed the origin of the extra piece of parchment. I did wonder why he simply did not put my name in Hogwarts category and confounded it to select me. Would it not have been easier and more guaranteed to work? Then again, there must have been greater protections to overcome for that.

"Hmph! So, you are telling us that . . . your investigation revealed enough to declare the girl innocent but not to find the culprit. Quite convenient, wouldn't you say?", Karkaroff said.

"Don't worry. I intend to do the investigation myself, Karkaroff, that's if the Ministry doesn't mind.", Moody growled, "I might be too old to keep up with the youngsters in the field but I haven't forgotten anything I have learned and taught in the Corps. It might take some time considering how many different kinds of scum have come in to the country for the tournament waving their Diplomatic Immunities but I assure you I will catch them with my own hands."

The fact that Moody's real eye was focused on Karkaroff left no doubt to anyone present as to who he considered prime suspect.

"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime. The news of your escapades have even reached the North.", said Karkaroff loudly. "I heard you recently got it into your head your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't have the same level of confidence in your investigation . . . . as many others do."

"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage.", Moody retorted in a menacing voice. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff — as you ought to remember. . . ."

"Alastor!", said Dumbledore warningly. Moody fell silent, though still surveying Karkaroff with satisfaction — Karkaroff's face was burning with anger and perhaps, humiliation.

"If everyone's need for dramatics is satisfied", Ms. de Prince drawled startling those who had forgotten that she was present, "perhaps, it's time to check the prospective participants' connection to the Goblet . . . Mr. Crouch."

He moved forward out of the shadows and approached us. Close up, he looked quite ill. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes and a thin, papery look about his wrinkled skin. He seemed old and weary. Even if he managed to cling on to his position after the Black fiasco, as it was called, it seemed he did not get away unscathed.

He first did a spell on Victor Krum which involved waving his wand about him. A blue aura surrounded the Durmstrang champion and a thin, pale blue tube of light originated from him and went through the closed door to the Great Hall and consequently the Goblet. The exact same thing happened later with Fleur Delacour and I.

"It seems that Miss Potter's legitimate selection as the Hogwarts champion invalidated the extra selection or it was invalid to begin with.", Crouch spoke softly.

Bagman spoke, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "Well, now that the confusion is over, it's time to give our champions their instructions. Barty, want to do the honors?"

"The first task is designed to test your daring.", Barty Crouch told the three of us, "so we are not going to be telling you what it is. In fact, all of us have taken an Unbreakable Vow in that regard, so don't expect to get anything by pestering us. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard. The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament unless we specifically state otherwise before the task. The champions will face the first challenge armed with only a single magical implement, be they wand or enchanted weapon. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from their usual classes and the end-of-year tests though I would advise you to attend them anyway as the spells taught there could be useful for the tasks."

He turned to look at Mr. Cassiel and turned back to look at us, more specifically the Beauxbatons champion and said, his unhappiness clear for all to see, "For those . . . . with inherited abilities, they are allowed to use it as long as they use it in conjunction with their spells. The choice of spell work is one of the categories being graded during the tasks, others being strategy and execution."

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore. "I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so.", Dumbledore said looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry.", Mr. Crouch replied. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment. . . . I've left young Weatherby in charge. . . . Very enthusiastic . . . a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told. . . ."

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?", Dumbledore offered.

"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!", Bagman said brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo.", Crouch said with a touch of impatience.

"Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Monsieur Cassiel, Señorita de Prince, a nightcap?", said Dumbledore.

Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff declined the offer and left with their champions. The other two left right after that suggesting the need of good sleep.

"Iris, if you wouldn't mind indulging the curiosity of an old man, how did you get past the Age Line and the other protections?", Dumbledore asked me.

I could see that he was geniunely curious and I felt pride at having got one past Albus Dumbledore.

"I did what any wizard would do.", I replied, "I asked an owl to do it."

I knew that it was not exactly true. It was what I called Luna logic, something most of my acquaintances seemed to believe was as mythical as the creatures she talked about. After all, neither Dumbledore nor his predecessors had thought of a proper Elf ward as necessary until Dobby showed how much of a security risk they were. A ward prohibiting foreign elves from coming to Hogwarts was a bad idea as the free elves who had a choice chose to come here rather than end up in the elf shop in Knockturn Alley. They put elves in a tiny cages hanging from the ceiling and the customers were mostly like Malfoys who wanted elves that meekly took their abuse. So, Albus added a ward that barred the bound foreign elves from entering and directed any free elves into a specially designed room from which they could only get out after binding themselves to the school.

"An interesting strategy", Dumbledore said contemplating, "I assumed, erroneously as it seems now, that you would use your unique Cloak."

"I prefer not to be dependent on it, Professor.", I replied.

He nodded. "It's good to hear you say that. Muggles have a saying about that, something about eggs and basket. Too many people, young and old, do not heed that piece of advise. I believe it's time for you to return to your dorms. I am sure your House mates are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

As Dumbledore predicted, there was a celebration in the Gryffindor Common Room. As I was not much of a party person, I slipped out as soon as I could. Soon, I got into my bed and had a wonderful sleep.

X-X-X-X-X

After spending the Sunday sleeping off and working on a few interesting things, Monday afternoon had me going to the same chamber for the Wand Weighing Ceremony, which, as far as I could understand, was to ensure that our wands did not violate the regulations, whatever they were. I noticed that that there were few changes. The room itself seemed bigger and much more spacious. There was an elevated platform opposite the entrance which did not exist last time. There was a velvet covered table on it behind which the seven judges were seated. We took our seats right in front of the table but on the lower ground. The press quickly got themselves seated by the door like hungry predators blocking the only avenue of exit for the prey.

There were rumours that someone at Daily Prophet tried to get exclusive access but was firmly rejected. Considering stuck up and self righteous attitude of Barty Crouch, if it was just up to him, he would have backed them up saying the Ministry approved newspaper was more than enough to cover the Tournament. The representatives of foreign Ministries put enough pressure on him that he had to allow one newspaper each for the countries of the other champions. From France came La Beaute Parisienne (The Parisian Beauty). It was kind of obvious who was backing them. Bulgaria sent Magicheski novina (The Magical News). It was a good thing they thought to put pronunciations and meaning in English as I did not know either of the languages.

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?", Dumbledore spoke, "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?", said Mr. Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room. Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmmm . . .", he said. He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes", he said quietly, "nine and a half inches . . . inflexible . . . rosewood . . . and containing . . . dear me . . ."

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela.", Fleur said proudly. "One of my grandmuzzer's."

"Yes", said Mr. Ollivander, "yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands. It seems Yvonne had somehow made it work though, not surprising that, as a Veela, she would have better understanding of the material than us. It suits you well."

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip. "Very well, very well, it's in fine working order.", said Mr. Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand.

"Mr. Krum, if you please."

Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duckfooted, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust out his wand and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes. The wand was different from any other that I had seen. It was thicker than any other save Hagrid's 'umbrella'. It had ridges to make it easier to grip and even a hand guard.

"Hmm", Mr. Ollivander said, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I . . . however . . ."

He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes. "Yes . . . hornbeam and dragon heartstring?", he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees . . . quite rigid . . . ten and a quarter inches . . . Avis!"

The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the slightly open door. I then noticed him using Mist. When an inexperienced person used Mist, you could see a little mist forming before it dissipated, if you were observant enough. But when an experienced person used it, you would not notice any change but you would get the feeling that there should have been a change. It's difficult to explain, like seeing things clearly when you knew it should have been blurry.

He then pressed something and a long sturdy blade emerged out of the other end. What the hell? At least, now I understood why the wand was so thick. It was also meant to be the handle of a broadsword. The blade looked like steel but there was something about it that made me feel like it was not so ordinary.

"Mithril . . . I never thought I would see it in my life time let alone hold it in my hand considering that dwarves hoard their supply of it as fiercely as the goblins guard our gold." He gave a few practice swings and turned it back into a wand. "It's quite well made too."

He then looked at the judges and said, "The set was created as a single unit and neither wand nor the blade can be detached. So, it is to be considered as a single magical implement."

"Good", Mr. Ollivander said, after receiving a non verbal agreement from the judges, and handed Krum back his wand. The previous use of Mist ensured that no one would make a fuss about it or consider it important enough to report it, or perhaps remember it, I was not too sure about that. "Which leaves . . . Ms. Potter."

I handed over my wand.

"Aaaah, yes,", Mr. Ollivander said, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."

Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining my wand than anyone else's, creator's pride perhaps or nostalgia. Eventually, however, he gave it back to me and had me make a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and then announced that it was still in perfect condition. Apparently, my wand had bonded so well with me that it would not work for anyone else. I had a feeling that there was much more that he was not telling me.

"Thank you all for your patience.", Dumbledore said. "Now, the press will have precisely five minutes to ask your questions after which we will commence with the photo shoot out."

The reporters stood up quickly and started shouting their questions at us. A flashbang from Dumbledore kept them quiet. "Keep calm. You will all get your turn. We will start with the youngest."

Seeing the sour look on the face of one of the reporters, one Miss Rita Skeeter, it was obvious that the statement was meant as a subtle dig at her. Perhaps, she had insulted him in her previous article or something. Considering that the youngest reporter was ours, it might have also been Dumbledore's attempt to give us an advantage.

"Luna Lovegood of Hogwarts Herald to Iris Potter. How hard do you think the tasks are going to be compared to slaying the Dementors?", she asked.

That was a sly move from her. As the youngest champion, it was obvious that I would be seen as the most vulnerable, even if it was not true. She reminded them that I had slain monsters that were considered unkillable, that were the boogeymen of the wizarding world. As the first question, it would remain in the mind of everyone present.

"I can't tell you. The organisers did not tell us what the tasks are. They even took an Unbreakable Vow to keep it secret.", I replied.

"Sofia Jones of La Beaute Parisienne to Victor Krum. Why did you decide to try for the Triwizard Tournament?"

Well, not every French had to have a weird name with de, la or something in the middle, I guess. They could have normal names too.

"Everyone knows I am a good at Quidditch.", he stated without any trace of arrogance, "I vont to challenge myself. I vant to know how good a vizard I am. It's ven their life is in danger, people show who they really are."

I did not know how much of it was true and how much of it was premeditated to give a good impression of him.

"Aleksandra Dobrev of Magicheski novina to Fleur Delacour. Do you think the Veela community is proud of your selection?"

The scowl that formed on French champion's face showed that the question was not as innocent as it initially seemed.

"My maman and papa are proud of me. I am Veela and witch. I 'ope to make zem proud wiz my performance."

Was it just me or were every reporter here female? It could be a coincidence or everyone wanted people who would actually ask appropriate questions and not waste time drooling over the Veela.

"Rita Skeeter of Daily Prophet to Iris Potter.", she said eagerly, "What made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"

"As my fellow champion Mr. Krum eloquently stated, I wanted to see how good I am as a wizard, or a witch, depending on how you define the terms.", I replied.

It was Luna's chance next. "My question is to the other two champions. What do you think of having a much younger student as your fellow champion?"

Trust Luna to find a loophole in the one question per turn allowance.

"Ven I joined the national team, the team manager was criticized for taking in a skool kid. They do not speak ill of him now. I am sure she vill prove her mettle during the tasks, as a champion or as a fraud.", Krum said.

"I am 'ere to prove myself. I 'ope zey will not . . . 'ow do you Eenglish say eet . . . dumb down ze tournament. If she was chosen by ze Goblet, she must be good enough.", she said.

Despite her words, her mocking tone revealed the way she thought of me. I hoped, for her sake, that she could back up her attitude and did not coast along on her Veela allure. Otherwise I would gladly crush her with a smile on my face.

"Sofia Jones to Iris Potter. How do you feel about competing with those who have three years of education over you?"

"The tournament is not just about having knowledge but applying it appropriately when your life is on the line. I can not speak for the other champions but i personally feel it will be a good challenge."

"Rita Skeeter to Iris Potter. How do you think your parents would feel about your participation? Proud? Worried? Angry?"

"I can not answer that question as I only know them through the stories I was told. If you are interested, you can interview my godfather. he says being Venerable Lord Black is not as exciting as it sounds."

As the most popular writer in the only newspaper of magical Britian, it would be stupid to antagonise Rita Skeeter when it was not strictly necessary. So, an olive branch with an implied threat was the appropriate response. She would not have survived the cutthroat world of press if she could not take the hint.

Hopefully, any adventures would remain in the professional realm and not end up in bed. Sirius was a bit of a ladies' man and Rita could be quite a lovely figure if she fired her make up artist and got someone who actually knew the job.

After our interrogation-I mean interview was over, it was time for photo shoots. Due to her enormous height, she was seated in the lower platform. There were disagreements as to who else should be on the front with her. Most of the males wanted Fleur Delacour while some others wanted Victor Krum while the Skeeter wanted me in front. Creepy, much. It was finally decided that the officials would sit in the front while we, the champions, would stand on the raised platform behind them. First set of photos was of all of us, then just the champions and then our individual photos. After some dragging around, we were finally free to leave.

X-X-X-X-X

AN : It was amusing to see that many people seemed to consider Veela's true form as merely having white feathered wings. I gave them a form that I believe would be more fitting from their canon descriptions and a dark past to justify the dark creature label. Their Veela form is said to be so ugly Mr. Weasley used them to give a moral lesson to his children to not be fooled by external appearances.

The next chapter will be the First Task. Any suggestions for the beasts for champions to battle are welcome. I am still working out how much should be changed and how much should be kept the same.