Four Champions

It was no surprise that Viktor Krum had been chosen as Durmstrang's Champion, and applause and cheers instantly swept through the entire Great Hall.

"Wonderful, Viktor!" Karkaroff roared from the staff table, his voice booming like a bell.

Despite the thunderous applause in the Great Hall, everyone could still hear him clearly. "I knew you were destined to be a Champion!"

Yet under everyone's gaze, Krum seemed somewhat listless. His face showed neither joy nor sorrow, as though being chosen as a Champion was nothing out of the ordinary.

He rose from the Slytherin table, seeming to cast a sidelong glance at the Gryffindor table.

Then he turned right and headed toward the staff table, opening the door and stepping through it amid countless cheers and applause.

The Great Hall gradually fell silent, and everyone's attention returned to the Goblet of Fire.

A few seconds later, the blue-white flames turned red again.

A second piece of parchment shot out from the goblet, propelled by the flames.

Dumbledore caught it. "Beauxbatons' Champion is—"

Madame Maxime appeared calm on the surface, but beneath the table, her large hand had already twisted a silk handkerchief into a ball.

"Fleur Delacour!"

Fleur, at the Gryffindor table, was utterly stunned.

"Congratulations." Hermione hugged her tightly.

With most of her face hidden by her scarf, Fleur's eyes widened. "Did I hear that correctly? Our school's Champion... is me?"

"You heard correctly. It's you," Hermione said, gently patting her back.

Apart from Madame Maxime and the Beauxbatons students, scarcely anyone in the Great Hall knew Fleur.

Everyone craned their necks toward the Gryffindor table, searching for this Champion who apparently was a girl.

After a brief moment of shock, Fleur quickly calmed down.

"Thank you." After thanking Hermione, she slowly rose to her feet with composed elegance.

She gently pulled down the scarf that had concealed most of her face, revealing a cascade of sleek, shimmering silver hair and a delicate, flawless face.

The chatter in the Great Hall abruptly quieted, and nearly every male stared at her without blinking.

Though a half-blood Veela lacked the devastating allure of a pure-blooded Veela, she could still exert a certain influence over men.

Fleur lightly tossed her sleek silver hair and smiled as she nodded at Vincent across from her.

Then she held her head high and walked toward the staff table with light, graceful steps.

"Merlin..." Ron's gaze followed her elegant, composed figure the entire way. "She's gorgeous, isn't she, Harry?"

Harry nodded blankly. "Yeah. No wonder she covered her face."

They were far from the only ones reacting that way. Every table had similar, if not even more exaggerated, responses.

Just yesterday, Draco at the Slytherin table had declared that only ugly girls covered their faces. Today, his eyes were so wide they nearly popped out of their sockets.

"Draco? Draco?" Pansy shook his shoulders hard.

Only after Fleur stepped through the door behind the staff table and closed it did Draco reluctantly tear his gaze away.

Then he saw Pansy's large, pug-like face.

No exaggeration—he felt sick on the spot.

"Draco?"

"That ugly freak disgusted me."

Though he said that, he hurriedly fixed his gaze on the Goblet of Fire.

What was so great about a half-blood Veela? She was just a little prettier, that was all.

The Great Hall fell quiet again. While staring at the Goblet of Fire, the Hogwarts students occasionally glanced toward the Gryffindor table.

Though the odds were slim, if Vincent had really managed to enter his name, then the final Champion could only be him.

Before long, the blue-white flames turned red once more.

Sparks flew, tongues of flame leaping high into the air as Dumbledore pulled a third piece of parchment from the tip of the fire.

One look at it, and his joy was impossible to conceal. "Hogwarts' Champion is—"

Vincent and Hermione at the Gryffindor table stared at each other blankly.

There was no issue with Krum, and Fleur's magical ability had also been acknowledged by both of them. Dumbledore's reaction was even less surprising.

So what exactly had the black-robed figure done to the Goblet of Fire last night?

"Vincen—" Dumbledore's eyes suddenly widened as he stared at the parchment in his hand in disbelief.

He hurriedly removed the half-moon glasses sitting crookedly on his nose, rubbed his eyes hard with his other hand, and lowered his head to look at the parchment again.

The ink on it was actually writhing rapidly, rearranging itself into a name that made his vision go dark.

Dumbledore steadied his trembling hand and glared furiously at Vincent.

This young man had no sense of fair play—he had actually ambushed an old man over a hundred years old!

Wait—

The frantic expression on Vincent's face left Dumbledore puzzled.

Could it be that this young man had not been behind it?

"Dumbledore?" Karkaroff gently patted his thigh with the hand hidden beneath the table.

Everyone was waiting for him to announce the final Champion, and the Goblet of Fire's ancient contract had officially taken effect.

There was no backing out now. As the host, Hogwarts seemed destined to be completely shut out of the Triwizard Cup.

Dumbledore let out a soft sigh and helplessly announced the final Champion. "Draco Malfoy."

Silence. The Great Hall fell deathly still.

Then, the Slytherin table erupted in cheers loud enough to nearly blow off the ceiling.

"Ah—" Pansy shrieked and threw herself at Draco. "Champion, you've been chosen as a Champion!"

Draco's mind went blank as she clung tightly to him.

He had not signed up at all. How had the Goblet of Fire chosen him as a Champion?

Could Merlin have answered his prayers?

Yes! It had to be!

Draco took a deep breath, desperately suppressing the wild joy in his heart, and shoved Pansy away.

He tilted his head back and slowly closed his eyes, savoring the praise from the Slytherin students.

"Cheating! Malfoy must have cheated!" A particularly discordant voice suddenly rang out.

Draco shot a contemptuous glance toward the Gryffindor table.

That look, as though he were staring at some lower life-form, made Ron's face instantly turn redder than his hair.

"Malfoy isn't even seventeen! He has no right to be our school's Champion!"

"Hmph—" Draco lifted his chin high and snorted through his nose.

Did the noble Malfoy Family need to explain itself to a lowly blood traitor?

No. They were not worth it.

Draco gave Harry, whose face was filled with shock, a deep look, then rose to his feet with utter confidence and composure.

He swaggered past the Gryffindor table and stopped before the door behind the staff table.

Before opening it and going inside, he looked back at Vincent's frantic face.

Tsk, tsk, tsk—the Goblet of Fire had chosen him, chosen the Malfoy Family, noble by birth. Wayne? Just a nouveau riche Muggle-born.

Once inside, with the door shut behind him, Draco could no longer suppress the ecstasy in his heart.

"Woohoo—" He jumped on the spot, clenched his fists, and punched wildly at the air around him.

Only after about half a minute did he calm down and carefully straighten his slightly rumpled collar and hair.

On the other side of the door, the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables in the Great Hall had broken into a fierce shouting match.

Seeing the situation escalating, Dumbledore at the staff table helplessly raised the Elder Wand.

Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were still here. If this continued, would they not become a laughingstock?

But before he could cast a spell, the blue-white flames atop the Goblet of Fire turned red once more.

Sparks crackled and burst out as a long tongue of flame suddenly shot into the air, carrying up another piece of parchment.

Dumbledore instinctively reached out and caught it.

The entire Great Hall instantly fell silent, everyone staring blankly at the parchment in his hand.

Madame Maxime's smile froze, while Karkaroff leaned back, seemingly trying to make out what was written on it.

Yet Dumbledore held the parchment far away, his azure eyes frighteningly grave.

He glanced at Vincent, who sat at the Gryffindor table with a bewildered expression, then widened his eyes and stared at the slip of paper in his hand again.

Everyone watched him with wide eyes, and he did not keep them waiting long.

After clearing his throat, he loudly read the name on the parchment. "Harry Potter."