Chương 191: What's in the Box?

Oleandra hissed under her breath when she saw Bartemius Crouch sit at the teachers' table. A certain Ludovic Bagman had also made a surprise appearance, but she didn't care about him; Crouch was the one who had been on her case ever since his own House-Elf had pushed her off the Top Box and into the void!

"They must be here for the tournament," Daphne remarked. "They're heads of the Departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports respectively, so it figures they'd be here. Maybe they'll be judges for the contest?"

Oleandra didn't answer, instead discreetly slipping her wand out of its holster and into her pouch. Both items were supposed to have burned to ashes in Crouch's tent, but her wand had a greater chance of being recognized; every wand was unique, after all.

Throughout the feast, Oleandra again had the strange feeling of being observed, but no matter how hard she tried to find who might be spying on her, she couldn't find them. However, she did catch Crouch sneak glances in her direction a few times during the feast, so she figured it might have something to do with him. At this point, it was bordering on strange. Had she really hit the nail on its head when she had asked him if she had seen something she wasn't supposed to?

Once the feast was over and the food had disappeared from the plates, Dumbledore rose from his seat once more to give his little speech. The atmosphere seemed almost electric; things were finally starting to pick up!

"The moment has come: The Triwizard Tournament is about to start," said Professor Dumbledore, beaming at the students in the Great Hall. "I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year."

Dumbledore introduced Crouch and Bagman. Just like at the gala, Bagman received a great deal more applause than Crouch, though with Dumbledore present, nobody was brave enough to boo Crouch like before. Daphne's suspicions were confirmed; both of them would act as judges during the Triwizard Tournament, along with the three headmasters.

"The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch," said Dumbledore with a wide smile once his introductions were complete.

Filch carried a bejewelled wooden chest to the headmaster and carefully deposited it on the table in front of him. Oleandra held her breath; if her suspicions were correct, then the box contained the judge that would select the champions!

"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!" explained Professor Dumbledore.

'Get on with it!' Oleandra wanted to shout as she sat on the edge of her seat. 'Show us what's in the box!'

The tension was almost unbearable as every single student in the Great Hall waited for him to open the chest with bated breath. Was the headmaster just having fun at their expense, tantalizing them with visions of excitement and danger?

"As you know, three champions compete in the Tournament," Dumbledore said after a suspenseful pause. "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."

Upon saying these words, Professor Dumbledore tapped three times on the lid of the wooden chest, which opened all too slowly, in Oleandra's opinion. He then reached inside the casket and retrieved a large, wooden cup filled with blueish-white flames, which he brandished in the air to make sure everyone got a good look at it. Once he was satisfied, he closed the casket and set the cup on top of it.

Tapping her temples, Oleandra activated her Mystic Eyes and inspected the flaming cup. To her surprise, its magic didn't dance with the wildness of fire; instead, it seemed extremely… orderly. Systematic. That's not to say it wasn't powerful; it burned with the intensity of a small sun in Oleandra's eyes. She tore her eyes away from the Goblet of Fire, as Professor Dumbledore had once again resumed his speech.

Professor Dumbledore's instructions were clear: aspiring champions needed to write their full name, as well as the name of their school on a piece of parchment and place it in the Goblet within a twenty-four-hour delay, as the Goblet would choose the three champions from its pool of names once time was up tomorrow night, at Hallowe'en. And to make sure no minors would be tempted to enter, Professor Dumbledore would be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet, which would prevent them from crossing it.

"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 champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are whole-heartedly prepared to play, before you drop your name into the Goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Goodnight to you all," said Dumbledore in his serious voice.

Oleandra completely ignored the warning, instead thinking up ways to sneak her name into the Goblet.

"I told you he wouldn't let you enter," said Tracey. "He seemed very serious about not letting underage students participate."

"An Age Line, huh?" said Oleandra, half to herself and half to Daphne. "I'd have to get a good look at it to see whether we'd be able to unravel it."

Oleandra, Daphne and Tracey strode past the Durmstrang people back to their common room; Professor Karkaroff was in the middle of berating the boy who had spilled hot soup all over his face.