It was October 31, 1994—Halloween night. The Great Hall at Hogwarts was packed with students and staff from all four schools: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Ilvermorny. Blue-white flames roared inside the Goblet of Fire. Tonight the real champions would be chosen.
"I'm Colin Creevey—reporter and photographer—and I'm here to capture this historic moment!"
Colin stood by the doorway, camera raised, snapping pictures of the noisy Hall before swinging the lens toward the Goblet of Fire in the Entrance Hall. "Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff is just dropping his parchment in now."
"Theodore Nott from Slytherin submitted his half an hour ago, and Roger Davies from Ravenclaw finished fifteen minutes ago. That leaves us Gryffindors—still no younger-year entries so far," Dennis Creevey added in a low, dramatic tone.
Students nearby turned to look at Harry and his group.
"The Heads of House didn't set any age limit on their tests. Theodore Nott is our age, and if he could get a parchment by passing, then you definitely could too, Harry."
Parvati Patil eyed the slumped boys sitting together, their shoulders drooping and faces gloomy. "If you'd just waited until daytime to try the challenges instead of sneaking out at night, Professor McGonagall wouldn't have disqualified you. Now we're all stuck hoping Hermione and Angelina pull it off."
"Dean, does it feel like she's hinting that we dragged Harry and Ron down?"
Seamus muttered under his breath, head hanging so low he wouldn't meet Parvati's eyes.
"I'll own dragging Harry down, but Ron… wasn't he right there with us?" Dean tilted his head.
Ron, sitting right next to Seamus, shot him a glare. "Who you calling dead weight?"
"Here they come—George and Fred are back."
A fresh wave of noise swept through the Gryffindor table. Everyone stopped talking. On the marble staircase, George and Fred strode down with their chests puffed out. Hermione followed, lips pressed tight but the corners of her mouth twitching with a smile she couldn't quite hide.
All four House tables fell quiet. The Halloween feast was about to begin, and every student who'd met the requirements had already submitted their parchments. Only the last few Gryffindors on the stairs remained—probably planning a dramatic final entrance all along.
George and Fred asked Alicia for two quills. One went to Hermione; the other stayed in George's hand.
Every Gryffindor below seventh year realized this was the last chance. They stopped chattering and watched with hopeful eyes.
"Did they really pull it off?" Ron asked, voice tight as he swallowed hard.
"Both George and Fred?" a girl nearby sounded stunned.
"Allow us to introduce!"
The Weasley twins straightened up proudly, one quill raised high in each hand, the other holding their parchments, drawing every eye in the Hall. "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes autumn new release—the Filler Quill!"
This wasn't their first time commanding the room's full attention. They wore their confidence like a second skin. Students from the other three schools still looked hopeful, but the Hogwarts kids already knew the twins too well and started out with three parts skepticism.
They were right to be wary. The pair were born pranksters who rarely did anything the normal way.
Under the gaze of all four schools, the quill rose dramatically.
George and Fred launched into their sales pitch, describing how the Filler Quill could automatically expand a single sentence into dozens or even hundreds of words—perfect for those last-minute essay crises when you were short on length.
For a moment everyone forgot to roast the twins' ridiculous stunt. Several students immediately crowded around asking for prices, while students from the other schools watched with sparks of interest in their eyes.
Only a handful noticed the small witch with her lips pressed together slip quietly toward the Entrance Hall. She rose onto her tiptoes and dropped her completed entry parchment into the Goblet of Fire.
The yellowed parchment hit the flames. Blue-white fire flared up, swallowing the sheet. The flames turned red and sent sparks shooting outward.
"Ron, Hermione got her parchment in…"
"I wonder which Head of House's test she passed?"
Harry and Ron both felt a faint sting of regret. They wished they'd turned down the nighttime adventure instead of getting stuck in the greenhouse all night, waiting for McGonagall to find them and disqualify the whole group.
…
At seven o'clock that evening the feast officially began.
A light rain fell outside, but the fireplaces filled the Hall with warm currents of air. Halloween decorations had been added—hundreds of live bats circled the enchanted ceiling, and carved jack-o'-lanterns grinned from the corners.
Hagrid, who'd grown the pumpkins himself, sat beside Madame Maxime in a crisp suit and tie, downing mug after mug of mead. His face was flushed bright red and he couldn't stop grinning.
Barty Crouch looked exhausted, his expression numb. He hadn't slept much lately. He sat beside Bagman, staring blankly at the chattering students below.
Once everyone was seated, the Goblet of Fire was carried back to the open space in front of the staff table.
Seamus and Dean darted up and down the aisles, passing along news they'd picked up. This time it included the sixth- and seventh-years. "Warrington from Slytherin entered—he's that big bloke on their Quidditch team."
"Angelina made it too!"
Angelina grinned, half-embarrassed and half-proud. "Lee, George, and Fred sacrificed themselves to hold off the Venomous Tentacula so I could reach the parchment."
"Professor Sprout's greenhouse needed a lot of teamwork. I went for Professor Flitwick's room instead."
Hermione shared her tips. "Professor McGonagall seemed worried we'd get hurt in the actual tasks—her Transfiguration chessboard was really hard, even for seventh-years. Snape's potion traps had a ton of stuff outside the textbook, including potions I'd never seen before. I got stuck there too."
"Professor Sprout's greenhouse required knowing the habits of every plant, plus a lot of advanced material… Professor Flitwick's charm room was actually more doable for us."
"…"
Harry set down his silverware. The spoon clinked against the porcelain plate. He sighed. "Ron, I'm going to the bathroom to clear my head. Want to come?"
"No…" Ron mumbled around a mouthful of roast chicken leg.
Harry paused, glanced at Ron's plate piled with gnawed bones, and shook his head. Nothing ruined the Weasley kids' appetites—not even getting disqualified. Must be nice.
He slipped sideways through the aisle between the long tables and left the Hall.
"Good evening, Boy Who Lived. Over here."
A man and a woman in long Muggle-style coats stood under the covered walkway of the courtyard, quietly watching the fine rain outside. They seemed to exist in a completely different world from the noisy Hall.
Professor Levent and Professor Rosier?
Harry hesitated, then slowed and walked over. Cool, damp air brushed his face, filling his nose and quietly dousing the restless frustration burning inside him.
"Professor… did you need something?" Harry joined them, gazing out at the rain-soaked courtyard.
"You didn't submit an entry parchment," Melvin said, turning to him. "Hermione got through the charm room on her own—you should have been able to as well. The deadline is almost here. Why haven't you entered? Don't you want to represent the school in the Triwizard Tournament?"
"Professor McGonagall disqualified me…" Harry had to explain it all over again. That same sting of regret and frustration came rushing back, mixed with a touch of resentment.
Christine glanced at him. She'd already told him at lunch.
"Professor McGonagall only banned you from using the Heads of House tests. She never said you couldn't get a parchment through other channels." Melvin smiled.
"Professor, you mean…" Harry's face lit up with sudden hope.
…
Ron, mouth still full of roast chicken, leaned in from the left while Seamus and Dean crowded from the right. All three stared at the entry parchment, reading every line. The form was simple—name, gender, age, and school.
"Are you really going to turn it in?" Harry asked, still hesitant as he looked at the filled-out sheet.
He still remembered Professor McGonagall's punishment. Using a parchment obtained through "other channels" felt like going behind the Head of House's back. He didn't feel right about it—especially since he'd have to drop it into the Goblet right in front of her.
"If you don't want to, I'll take the blame for you," Ron offered loyally.
"Don't be an idiot…" Dean shoved Ron's head out of the way. Seamus whispered urgently in Harry's ear, "Since the professor gave you the parchment, it must be allowed. Don't let Professor Levent down."
Harry took a deep breath and stood up. Under the eyes of many classmates he walked toward the staff table. The flames inside the wooden Goblet roared, but none burned as hot as McGonagall's gaze. The short walk felt like miles.
McGonagall watched the boy approach, then leave again—head down, too nervous to meet her eyes. She felt both annoyed and amused.
Sprout seemed to read her thoughts and asked worriedly, "Does Harry really have to compete? He's only a fourth-year—not even fifteen yet."
Melvin answered softly, "There isn't time for him to grow up slowly."
"…"
The Halloween feast ran longer than expected, with dishes from many different countries added to the tables. The students, however, had little appetite. They ate quickly, then craned their necks toward the staff table, every face tight with anticipation.
But the adult witches and wizards were in no hurry. They cut their steaks with deliberate care, swirled their wine glasses, and chatted with their neighbors—clearly enjoying dragging out the suspense.
The students watched in frustration, half-tempted to grab whatever was on their plates and shove it into the professors' mouths just to speed things up.
Finally the clock struck the hour. The last dessert course vanished. Plates gleamed spotless again. The Hall suddenly erupted in noise—only to fall dead silent the moment Melvin stood up.
Nearly a thousand witches, wizards, and students held their breath.
"Following ancient tradition, once your name enters the Goblet of Fire it becomes a binding contract. The champions chosen by the Goblet may not withdraw, may not skip tasks, and must complete the competition—even if it costs them their lives. That is why we created the selection process."
Melvin paused briefly. "Now, let us see which students the Goblet has chosen!"
He gave a casual wave of his wand. The brightly lit Hall instantly dimmed. Except for the glowing phosphorescence inside the jack-o'-lanterns, every candle and torch went out. Only the flames inside the wooden Goblet swelled dramatically, casting brilliant light.
The students watched in silence, breathing shallow, letting the blue-white sparks burn purple-black afterimages into their vision.
Then the flames suddenly turned red. Sparks shot out with sharp pops.
Those sparks didn't fall to the floor or burn out in mid-air. Instead they hung suspended, glowing and giving off heat, arranging themselves into neat letters.
Four separate lists written in fire hung in the air, each clearly divided by school.
«Hogwarts: Peregrine Derrick, Cedric Diggory, Roger Davies, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter.»
«Ilvermorny: Pickett Graves, Nancy Boot, Dawn Rodriguez…»
«Beauxbatons: Isabeau Lacroix, Rosaline Tibbs, Fleur Delacour…»
«Durmstrang: Viktor Krum, Nikolai Volkov, Boris Novak…»
Five champions per school—twenty in total. The chosen students rose together and bowed.
Cheers and applause erupted instantly, sweeping through the Hall. The blazing lists of names replaced the candles and torches, flooding the room with brilliant light and illuminating the faces of the champions seated at the long tables.
Students jumped up and down on all four tables, screaming and stomping. Even the usually composed Cedric couldn't hide his bright smile.
"Fantastic, Viktor! I knew you were destined to be a champion!" Karkaroff amplified his voice so the whole Hall could hear.
Krum, however, looked listless and unimpressed.
Pickett from Ilvermorny tried hard to hide his excitement, but his grin kept growing wider.
Madame Maxime greeted each of her six students, then flashed a quick smile at Hagrid, who was sitting beside her. Hagrid immediately went misty-eyed, grinning like a fool—the same look he'd had when Norbert hatched.
Harry and Hermione were among the youngest champions. They stood near the back of the Gryffindor table. Hermione's face was flushed. Harry glanced quickly toward the staff table and saw Professor McGonagall nodding at him with a small smile. A surge of excitement shot through him.
Even though Melvin had removed the age limit, most of the chosen champions were still seventeen or older. The few younger students who had somehow obtained parchments were filtered out by the Goblet.
"Quiet, please."
Melvin calmed the excited crowd. "Will the selected champions please follow the aisles to the side chamber? The organizing committee will give initial instructions there."