Chapter Twenty-Two - Draco

                                    

                                          
Dumbledore sits down and Karkaroff leans forward at once and engages him in conversation.
                          
The dishes in front of me fill with food as usual. There's a great variety of dishes in front of me that I've never seen, including several that are definitely foreign.
                          
The Great Hall seems somehow much more crowded than usual, even though there are barely twenty additional students. Perhaps it's because their different coloured uniforms stand out so clearly against the black of the Hogwarts robes. Now that they have removed their furs, the Durmstrang students are revealed to be wearing robes of a deep, blood red.
                          
The two remaining seats at the staff table are now filled by Ludo Bagman and Mr. Crouch.
                          
When the second course arrives, I notice a number of unfamiliar puddings, too. 
                          
Once the golden plates have been wiped clean, Dumbledore stands up again. A pleasant sort of tension seems to fill the Hall now.
                          
"The moment has come," says Dumbledore, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanations before we bring in the casket, just to clarify the procedure which we will be following this year. But firstly, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - there's a smattering of polite applause - "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports." There's a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch, perhaps because of his fame as a Beater, or simply because he looks so much more likeable. He acknowledges it with a jovial wave of his hand. Bartemius Crouch does not smile or wave when his name is announced.
                          
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continues, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime on the panel which will judge the champions' efforts."
                          
At the mention of the word 'champions', the attentiveness of the listening students seems to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore notices our sudden stillness, for he smiles as he says, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch." Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approaches Dumbledore, carrying a great wooden chest, encrusted with jewels. It looks extremely old.
                          
A murmur of excited interest rises from the watching students. "The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," says Dumbledore, as Filch places the chest carefully on the table before him, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. 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."
                          
At this last word, the Hall fills with silence so absolute that nobody seems to be breathing. "As you know, three champions compete in the Tournament," Dumbledore goes on calmly, "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."
                          
Dumbledore now takes out his wand and taps three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaks slowly open. He reaches inside it and pulls out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing, blue-white flames.
                          
Dumbledore closes the casket and places the Goblet carefully on top of it, where it's clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.
                          
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment, and drop it into the Goblet," says Dumbledore. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Hallowe'en, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The Goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete."
                          
"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the Entrance Hall," says Dumbledore. "Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross the line. Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this Tournament is not to be entered 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."