章 520: 0519 Champions
The Great Hall, already thrumming with anticipation, fell into an expectant hush as Bryan stood before the assembled students. His eyes swept across the sea of faces before him, taking in the barely contained excitement that seemed to radiate from every corner of the room.
Bryan smiled gently and said, "I stand before you at this historic moment to offer my heartfelt congratulations in advance to the three young wizards who will shortly be chosen by the Goblet of Fire as champions."
He paused, letting his words settle in the hushed atmosphere. "This Triwizard Tournament, the first to grace these halls in centuries, marks a momentous occasion. Whether or not future generations continue this tradition, your names will be etched into the annals of magical history, and tales of your courage and achievements during these trials will echo through these corridors for generations to come."
The allure of being remembered through history was tangible. Throughout the hall, students shifted in their seats, their breathing quickening as they imagined their names engraved into the annals of wizarding lore.
Bryan's expression then became more solemn, his brow furrowing slightly as he continued. "However, I also want to say something to those brave young wizards who despite submitting their names, may not be chosen by the Goblet of Fire—"
He paused, his eyes sweeping across the gathered students with concern. "In our lives, which feel both eternally long and impossibly brief, we encounter trials that test our spirit at every turn.
The glory of overcoming these daily challenges often surpasses any acclaim one might find in formal competition. So, I hope each of you, chosen or not, will maintain your spirit of optimism and face whatever comes in life with unwavering determination. Never allow yourselves to feel inferior or defeated by this single moment in time."
As Bryan's words echoed through the hall, their impact was immediately evident.
At the staff table, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with approval as he led the applause. Beside him, Professor McGonagall's usual stern demeanor softened, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she clapped vigorously.
The response from the students was initially scattered, like the first drops of rain before a downpour. But as the meaning of Bryan's words sank in, the applause swelled, growing in volume and intensity until it became a thunderous roar.
"Such wise words—" Dumbledore's voice was thick with emotion as he turned to Professor Snape on his right, sniffing slightly as if holding back tears. Unsurprisingly, Snape's sallow face darkened at this display of sentiment, his lips curling into a barely perceptible sneer.
The effect of Bryan's speech was undeniable. Many of the young wizards who had been visibly anxious moments before now appeared noticeably calmer.
As the applause began to die down, Bryan raised his hands, gently silencing the roaring applause.
"Well, the Goblet of Fire is about to make its decision—" He paused, allowing the tension to build. "I estimate it will take about another minute. When I call each champion's name, they will proceed to the top of the Hall, walking along the staff table to enter the next chamber—"
Bryan gestured towards the room where Barty Crouch had been resting earlier, his movement drawing all eyes to the small door behind the staff table. "The champions will receive their initial instructions for the trials there—"
With a flourish, Bryan drew his wand and waved it in a dramatic arc, and instantly, all the candles except those within the carved pumpkin lanterns were extinguished.
The Great Hall was plunged into a state of semi-darkness, the sudden dimming eliciting a collective gasp from the students. In this new, shadowy environment, the Goblet of Fire stood out even more starkly, its blue-white flames casting an otherworldly glow over the scene.
Every eye in the hall was now fixed upon the Goblet, watching for the slightest change in its ethereal fire. Students leaned forward in their seats, some gripping the edges of the tables so tightly their knuckles turned white. Even the usually composed staff members seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation.
Bryan took up his position beside the Goblet of Fire, his tall figure casting a long shadow in its flickering light. His eyes swept over the sea of faces before him, taking in the numerous expressions of hope, fear, and excitement.
He noted how even the most talkative students had fallen silent, their usual chatter replaced by the barest whisper of anxious breathing. Even Fleur Delacour, who had exuded confidence while talking about becoming the champion in his office, now sat with her back straight, and her facial features tight with nervous anticipation.
The silence in the hall was so clear that when a voice suddenly called out, "It's coming!", the words seemed to explode in the air, causing several students to jump in their seats.
Bryan, who had already sensed the change in the Goblet's energy, smoothly shifted his gaze to the flames, which were now turning a deep, pulsing red. With ease, he reached out his hand, the gesture drawing everyone's attention away from the crackling sparks that had begun to fly from the Goblet's rim.
"The Durmstrang champion is—" Bryan's voice rang out clear and strong, building the suspense for one final moment before he unfolded the parchment that had materialized in his hand. A slight smile appeared across his lips as he read the name, and then, in a voice that seemed to fill every corner of the vast hall, he announced, "Viktor Krum!"
The tension that had been building all evening was released in a single, explosive moment of jubilation. Every voice in the hall seemed to rise in unison, creating a wall of sound that was almost physical in its intensity.
Except for the few Durmstrang boys who weren't chosen, every young wizard was shouting with all their might, even though they might not have known exactly what they were so happy about!
At the Gryffindor table, Ron's voice could be heard above the noise, his face flushed with excitement as he shouted in approval, "Not at all surprising!"
Beside him, Hermione, following Harry's lead, had risen to her feet, adding her own cheers to the noise. While she didn't share Ron and Harry's fanatical admiration for Krum, she couldn't help but feel a surge of approval.
On the night of the Quidditch World Cup final, before Professor Watson arrived, it was Krum who had accepted her request and brought Mr. Weasley to the box to help. In that perilous situation, Krum's willingness to risk himself for a group of strangers was enough to prove his kindness and courage.
From the staff table, Professor Karkaroff's voice boomed out like a bell, easily audible even over the thunderous applause. "Bravo, Viktor!" he roared, his face split by a triumphant grin. "I knew you were destined to be the champion!"
In stark contrast to the excitement around him, Viktor Krum himself seemed almost unaffected by his selection. He rose from his seat beside Draco with a kind of lethargic grace, as he made his way towards the chamber Bryan had indicated. Only when passing by Bryan did he respectfully nod his head, which Bryan returned with a smile.
This young man was much more likable than Karkaroff.
As Krum disappeared into the side chamber, the applause gradually began to subside. Like a tide receding from the shore, the excitement in the hall receded, replaced once more by that electric anticipation as all eyes returned to the Goblet of Fire.
Bryan deftly caught the second piece of parchment as it was ejected from the once again reddening flames.
Even before he unfolded the slip, Bryan knew whose name would be written upon it because this particular piece of parchment had been torn from his own notebook.
"The Beauxbatons champion,"
In the instant their eyes met, Fleur confirmed whose name was about to resound through the Hall.
"is Fleur Delacour!"
And sure enough, her name was uttered from the lips of the man she admired.
Once again, the hall erupted in applause, though this time there was a noticeable difference in its tone.
Just like before, except for the Beauxbatons students who weren't chosen, many Hogwarts students once again applauded enthusiastically for Fleur, while many of the male students cheered with perhaps more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary, the applause from the female population was noticeably more subdued, tinged with a hint of jealousy and resentment.
Fleur rose from her seat with, her silvery hair catching the light as she tossed it over her shoulder. As she glided past Bryan, she slowed her pace slightly, her radiant smile directed solely at him. "Thank you--"
"I wish you the very best of luck, Miss Delacour—" Bryan nodded, smiling gentlemanly.
As Fleur followed in Krum's footsteps towards the side chamber, the hall once again fell into an anticipatory hush.
The atmosphere in the Great Hall reached new heights of tension as the moment approached for the selection of Hogwarts' champion. Even the usually composed heads of houses were unable to maintain their typical air of detached observation. Their eyes, like everyone else's, were fixed on the third piece of parchment now resting in Bryan's hand.
Among the students, the atmosphere was even more charged. Many sat with their fists clenched so tightly that their knuckles had turned white, and their bodies were stiff with tension. They resembled gamblers waiting for the final card to be revealed after betting their entire fortune on a single hand.
Bryan was well aware of the swelling tension, and knew that to prolong this moment of suspense would be to invite the resentment of everyone present.
He smoothly unfolded the parchment. As the name written there came into view, a genuine smile spread across his face, reaching all the way to his eyes.
"Well then--" Bryan's gaze swept across the hall, coming to rest on the Hufflepuff table, where a slender, upright young man sat, his handsome face showing hopeful anticipation. "You can cheer for Mr. Cedric Diggory!"
At the Gryffindor table, Angelina Johnson's disappointed sigh was completely drowned out by Ron's protests, which in turn were rendered inaudible by the explosive celebration erupting from the Hufflepuff table. Every single Hufflepuff student seemed to have leapt to their feet as one, their combined voices creating a wall of joyous noise.
Harry watched as his classmates from Professor Watson's Physical Education class - Hannah, Ernie, Justin, Susan, Megan, and others - abandoned all pretense of decorum and rushed to surround Cedric. Their faces were lit with pride and excitement as they cheered for their housemate.
Honestly, for a moment, Harry felt a twinge of envy. He had experienced such adoration only once before, when he had led Gryffindor to win championship in the previous year's Quidditch final against Malfoy and the Slytherin team.
Almost instinctively, Harry's gaze drifted towards the Slytherin table, seeking out Malfoy and his cronies. As expected, their faces were twisted with disdain, eyeing Cedric as if he were nothing more than a lucky fool who had stumbled into undeserved glory.
The sight of their bitter jealousy lifted Harry's spirits considerably. A smile spread across his face as he joined in the applause with renewed vigor. After all, Cedric would soon be representing not just Hufflepuff, but all of Hogwarts in the tournament. Moreover, he was a fellow student in Professor Watson's Physical Education class.
At the center of this storm of celebration, Cedric appeared somewhat dazed. Despite having dreamed of this moment for so long, now that it had finally arrived, he seemed at a loss.
His eyes, wide with disbelief and joy, darted over the sea of faces before him, eventually landing on the Ravenclaw table. There, he locked gazes with a beautiful girl whose cheeks were flushed pink with excitement, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him with undisguised admiration. The sight caused Cedric's heart to skip a beat, and his handsome face flushed an even deeper shade of red.
At the staff table, the reactions were equally varied. Professor McGonagall's initial flash of disappointment lasted barely a second before she turned to congratulate the overjoyed Professor Sprout. "Oh, congratulations, Pomona!"
The other staff members quickly followed suit, offering their own congratulations to the beaming Head of Hufflepuff.
In the midst of this jubilant chaos, only two figures managed to maintain their composure: Albus Dumbledore and Bryan Watson. Their calm demeanors stood out in stark contrast to the excitement swirling around them, like the eye of a storm.
"Excellent—" Bryan's voice, magically amplified, cut through the noise of the hall. He cast a discreet glance towards Harry, noting with approval his enthusiastic applause for Cedric.
Turning back to address the entire hall, Bryan continued, his tone pleasant but authoritative. "Now that we have our three champions, I know each of you will offer your unwavering support to your school's representative, and I have every confidence that these three exceptional young people will bring honor to their—"
But his words were suddenly cut short by a sound that seemed to freeze the very air in the hall.
Crack—
It was as if someone had cast a powerful Silencing Charm over the entire gathering. The abrupt quiet was almost painful in its intensity as every eye in the room turned once more to the Goblet of Fire. To everyone's astonishment, the magical artifact had once again erupted into flames.
A long tongue of flame shot into the air, bearing another piece of parchment. The sight elicited a collective gasp from the gathered students and staff.
Harry observed with growing unease that the expression of surprise on Professor Watson's face mirrored that of everyone else in the hall. His hand shot out, catching the parchment before it could flutter to the ground.
As Bryan raised the slip of parchment, his brow furrowed in concentration, the entire hall seemed to hold its breath. The silence was so clear that the rustle of the parchment as he unfolded it sounded unnaturally loud.
But when Professor Watson's eyes fell upon the name written there, all of his surprise vanished in an instant. Instead of immediately announcing the name, Bryan turned towards the staff table causing the young wizards to lose the chance to observe his expression.
Bryan looked directly into Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes. In the prolonged silence, the gazes of these two men, the focus of everyone's attention, met in mid-air.
More than one person found themselves thinking that this silence felt incredibly, unbearably long.
Finally, Professor Dumbledore seemed to receive the message Professor Watson was conveying. He blinked his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles, as he leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxing from its previously tense state.
Professor Watson turned his head back. In the blue-white firelight, his face was pale yet calm.
Professor Watson once again raised the fourth piece of parchment he had retrieved from the Goblet of Fire, and in the next second, a name resounded through the Hall.
"Hermione Granger."
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章 521: 0520 Not Me
Hermione sat there, realizing that everyone in the Great Hall had turned to look at her. Of course, this wasn't entirely accurate; she wasn't unanimously known throughout the school, and there were quite a few students, particularly in other years, who had no idea who Hermione Granger was. But after a bout of whispered inquiries and pointed fingers, their gazes quickly found her by anchoring on the unmistakable figure of the famous Harry Potter seated beside her.
Hermione sat there, stunned into immobility. Her mouth hung slightly open, brown eyes now clouded with confusion and fear. Her thin frame trembled under the gaze of countless people, as if just waking from a deep sleep, when consciousness couldn't fully control the body yet.
The usual eruption of applause that had followed the announcement of the other champions was conspicuously absent. Instead, a low, growing buzzing began to spread through the hall, similar to a swarm of angry bees.
Some students, driven by curiosity or disbelief, even stood up from their seats, craning their necks to get a better look at the girl who had inexplicably become the fourth Triwizard champion. Through it all, Hermione remained frozen in her seat, as if she had been hit by a Petrificus Totalus charm.
At the high table, the staff's reactions were equally dramatic.
Professor McGonagall stood up from the high table and quickly walked to Professor Dumbledore's side. Her face had turned ashen, the color draining from her cheeks as she leaned in close, whispering urgently into the Headmaster's ear. Dumbledore listened intently, his long fingers steepled before him, his brow furrowing slightly as he processed this unexpected turn of events.
Ludo Bagman and Karkaroff, reacting with confusion and indignation respectively, also rose from their seats. They seemed to think that Professor Watson had made some sort of an ill-timed joke. They hurried around the table, and rushed to his side. Upon reaching him, they craned their necks left and right, to stare at the slip of paper he still held in his hand.
Time seemed to slow to an excruciating crawl, each second stretching out like hours in the atmosphere of mounting despair. Hermione's trembling intensified, Yet, paradoxically, this physical manifestation of her distress seemed to allow her to regain some semblance of control over her movements.
With agonizing slowness, she turned her head to look at Harry and Ron, her closest friends. Their reactions, she knew instinctively, would be the most important. Then, gathering her courage, she let her gaze sweep across every face at the Gryffindor table that was turned towards her. Suddenly, her eyes were filled with tears, turning the familiar faces of her housemates into watery, indistinct blurs.
Harry's face showed only bewilderment and confusion, his eyes wide behind his round glasses, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he struggled to process what had just happened. In a way, his obvious shock was a comfort for her- at least he didn't seem angry or accusatory.
Ron's reaction, however, was far more difficult to bear. Hermione had never seen him look so unfamiliar. His face was contorted into fury, every freckle standing out bluntly against his reddening skin. He now glared at her with an intensity that made her flinch.
And the others - Fred and George Weasley, their usual mischievous grins were replaced by looks of utter disbelief; Ginny, her eyes were widened with shock - they were all looking at her as if they were seeing her for the first time, as if the Hermione they thought they knew had been replaced by a stranger.
Neville's round face was pale with surprise; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas both exchanged bewildered glances before turning back to stare at her; Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, their mouths were hanging open in identical expressions of shock - all of their eyes were full of confusion and disbelief.
But what Hermione found most unbearable were the looks from Parvati, Lavender, and Angelina. Hermione's gaze only lingered on their eyes for a moment before she had to look away, unable to bear the meaning in their stares.
In those brief seconds, she saw resentment, disbelief, and worst of all, the clear conviction that she was nothing more than a lucky fool who had somehow cheated her way into glory.
The weight of their judgment, the intense sense of betrayal emanating from her housemates, was too much to bear.
"I didn't—" Hermione's voice broke, a sob catching in her throat. The situation felt utterly desperate, spiraling out of control in a way she had never experienced before.
In that moment of crushing despair, Hermione's mind raced back to her first days at Hogwarts. She remembered vividly how she had maintained a facade of humility, studying to the point of exhaustion in an attempt to hide the deep-seated insecurity stemming from her Muggle background.
Those early efforts had indeed earned her the favor of many professors and the unwilling respect of some classmates, but the harsh truth was that most of her peers had either ignored her or even found her relentless pursuit of knowledge annoying. It had been Harry and Ron's friendship, their acceptance of her ways and their willingness to stand by her, that had rescued her from that initial state of bewildered helplessness.
And now, in this moment of crisis, it seemed they were all she could rely on. The thought both comforted and terrified her - what if they, too, turned away?
"I didn't—" Hermione repeated, her thin shoulders shaking violently with suppressed sobs. If they hadn't been in the Great Hall, if she hadn't been enduring the stares of so many people, Hermione might have broken down completely, dissolving into a flood of tears.
Just as she felt she might shatter under the pressure, a small miracle occurred.
Harry, his initial shock giving way to concern for Hermione, took a deep breath. His mind was still foggy with confusion, but his gaze towards her became firm and resolute. It was a look that said, without words, that he believed her, and that he would stand by her no matter what.
And Ron, despite his initial anger, seemed to be wrestling with his emotions. His mouth twitched slightly, the angry lines between his brows softening, though his eyes still flickered with uncertainty.
At the front of the hall, Karkaroff's eyes bored into the slip of paper in Bryan's hand, as if he could change its contents through sheer force of will.
Bryan, maintaining his composure in the face of the chaos around him, casually tossed the paper to Karkaroff. Then, he calmly stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the sea of faces before settling on the back half of the Gryffindor table. His voice, magically amplified, cut through the low buzz as he repeated,
"Hermione Granger, come. Go through that door."
But, Hermione remained frozen, unable to make her body obey the instruction.
"Go on—" Harry's voice was heavy with concern, tinged with a hint of annoyance - not at Hermione, but at the situation they found were in. He gently patted Hermione's arm, the contact seeming to jolt her back to reality. Her body gave a violent shudder, as if Harry's touch had been electrically charged.
"Go quickly, Hermione—" This urging came from Neville. The shock in his round eyes from earlier had disappeared, replaced by genuine concern for her. This silent support from some people finally gave Hermione a bit of courage.
With great effort, Hermione stood up, her movements shaky and uncertain. In her distress, she stepped on the hem of her robe, stumbling slightly. The small mishap seemed to symbolize her current state - off-balance, vulnerable, struggling to maintain her composure.
As she began her long walk to the front of the hall, Hermione still couldn't bring herself to look at the people at the nearby Hufflepuff table. She could feel their resentment radiating towards her in waves. Although most of the Gryffindors were looking at her with shock, compared to the Hufflepuffs, their gazes could almost be considered gentle.
Hermione knew why the Hufflepuffs were so hostile; their moment of success, their rare chance to shine, had been snatched away in an instant. It wasn't something that required much thought to understand their bitterness.
Hermione walked along the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, feeling as if this path was exceptionally long, the high table seeming eternally out of reach. Each step felt like a massive effort, her legs heavy as if she were wading through thick mud. She could feel hundreds, if not thousands, of eyes fixed upon her, each gaze like a spotlight, hot and taxing.
The buzzing of discussions grew louder, voices rising and falling in a cacophony of speculation and disbelief. It seemed like a full hour had passed, though in reality it was only a minute or two, before she finally reached Professor Watson's side.
Gathering what little courage she had left, Hermione forced herself to look up at Professor Watson. He was the only one she felt she could bear to observe at this moment.
To her immense relief, she found that he was indeed looking at her, but unlike her classmates, there was no shock in his expression. This wasn't entirely surprising; it seemed that nothing could ever truly catch Professor Watson off guard.
What comforted Hermione most was that he didn't seem to view her as a deceitful young witch trying to cheat her way to glory. He looked at her just as he always did, his gaze was calm and reassuring. More than that, his eyes even held a hint of concern. At this moment, Hermione was particularly sensitive to catching such emotions.
Perhaps it was this glimmer of concern that finally broke through Hermione's fragile composure. Her wobbly steps suddenly halted, and she cried out, her voice dense with unshed tears, "It wasn't me, Professor!"
"It's alright, Miss Granger—" Bryan said softly, patting Hermione's shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. Then, turning his head towards Professor McGonagall, who was standing beside Dumbledore with her hand over her mouth, looking utterly distressed, he spoke in a steady voice that showed none of the tension of the moment,
"Professor McGonagall, I think Miss Granger needs some assistance. Would you mind accompanying her to the small room first?"
Professor McGonagall didn't hesitate for a moment. She immediately left Dumbledore's side, as she walked around the table and strode towards Hermione. For her part, Hermione had been bracing herself for a scolding. She knew how much Professor McGonagall cared about Gryffindor's reputation, and the moment the Goblet of Fire had spit out her name, both Gryffindor and Hogwarts had been placed in an awkward and potentially embarrassing position.
But when Professor McGonagall reached her, her words were unexpected in their gentleness. "Come along, Miss Granger," she said, putting an arm around Hermione's shoulders. Her voice was softer and kinder than Hermione had ever heard it.
With Professor McGonagall's guidance, Hermione quickly disappeared from everyone's sight, vanishing into the side room where the other champions waited. Bryan watched this young witch, who seemed destined to face trials beyond her years, walk away. Then, with a subtle shift in his demeanor, he turned to look at the staff table.
Dumbledore had risen to his feet, his bright blue eyes meeting Bryan's gaze. For a moment, a hint of coldness flickered in those usually twinkling orbs.
Most of the staff at the table still couldn't shake off their shock, though Professor Snape looked somewhat gleeful. Barty Crouch Sr., in stark contrast to the emotional turmoil around him, maintained his stern expression, as if what had just happened was of no concern to him whatsoever.
A soft "crack", audible only to those near the staff table, drew Bryan's attention to Madame Maxime. She was visibly struggling to contain her anger, her massive body was trembling with suppressed rage. The source of the sound became apparent as Bryan noticed the tabletop under her palm had cracked under the pressure of her grip.
Turning back to face the sea of young, confused faces before him, Bryan gestured towards the Goblet of Fire. Its blue-white flames were gradually extinguishing, fading away as if the task had drained its magical energy.
"As you have seen—" Bryan's voice carried easily across the hall, "The selection of champions has come to an end. Now, the Head Boy and Girl, and the prefects of each house, please lead your fellow students back to your dormitories promptly. I do not wish to see anyone wandering around the castle tonight, breaking school rules—"
His words were met with a surge of dissatisfied murmurs from the students. Many voices called out, demanding explanations, seeking answers to the unprecedented turn of events they had just witnessed but Bryan's figure, standing before the staff table, seemed to suddenly grow taller, becoming more imposing.
A heavy pressure, accompanied by a faint rolling thunder that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, swept out from him in all directions. The young witches and wizards fell silent one by one, their protests dying in their throats. Almost against their will, they began to rise from their seats, moving towards the entrance hall with an obedience that seemed born more of instinct than conscious decision.
Even those closest to Bryan, Karkaroff, his face contorted in fury, and Bagman, who had been practically bouncing with bizarre excitement, both felt the full force of the pressure emanating from Bryan's body. They shivered involuntarily, as if hit head-on by a particularly potent freezing charm.
As the last of the students marched out of the Great Hall, Bryan turned his attention to the remaining staff members.
"Come—" Bryan beckoned to Professor Karkaroff and the relevant staff at the high table, saying calmly. "Let's get this sorted out—"
With those words, Bryan turned and strode towards the side chamber where Hermione and the other champions waited.
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