The young wizards gradually left the Great Hall.
Morn and Justin were discussing when to submit their names. One person would be chosen from the entire school, and although they had no idea how the flames in the cup selected a champion, the two had a pretty good idea of their own abilities.
There was a saying that put it well-
Since we're already here.
There was also another saying: participation is what matters...
"How about we all put our names in first thing tomorrow morning, Su Er?" Justin said excitedly. "Join in the fun."
"No, no." Su Er waved his hands repeatedly.
"What a shame. Morn and I both think you've got a good chance of being chosen."
As they spoke, they had nearly reached the Great Hall entrance when a commotion came from the doorway.
Su Er stopped and looked toward the noise. It came from their dear Professor Moody-or rather, Barty Professor Crouch. He was glaring hatefully at Karkaroff, Durmstrang's headmaster.
Karkaroff, meanwhile, had gone deathly pale, his expression a mixture of hatred and fear.
Between them stood a thoroughly bewildered Harry, who had no idea what had happened. Ron was with him.
"You," Karkaroff said, a trace of trembling and despair in his voice.
"Of course it's me," Fake Moody replied in a low voice. "Unless you've got something to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you'd best move along right now. You're blocking the doorway."
Indeed, half the students in the Great Hall were waiting behind them, craning up on tiptoe to see what had caused the blockage ahead.
Karkaroff said nothing. He waved a hand and led his students away, though there was something distinctly panicked about his retreating figure.
Fake Moody kept glaring at him, his magical eye perfectly still, before finally leaving without another