The rolling pale blue flas stirred everyone’s nerves.
That cold white glow, the flickering light, and all those wide, unblinking eyes fixed on the Goblet—taken together, it really did feel a bit like a scene from a horror film...
“Almost there! We’re about to find out who the champion is,” Ron Weasley whispered to Harry Potter once the arguing had died down.
Right then, the flas inside the Goblet of Fire suddenly flared crimson. Sparks snapped and burst outward, and a tongue of fire shot upward, tossing out a scorched piece of parchnt.
Clearly, this was how the Goblet selected its champion.
Everyone held their breath, and when Dumbledore caught the parchnt, the silence was so complete that it felt like even the slightest sound would echo.
“The champion of Durmstrang—”
At that, most of the wizards sank into disappointnt. The outco was obvious. Aside from Viktor Krum, who else could possibly have the right to be chosen?
And sure enough, the na that followed was exactly what everyone expected...
“Viktor Krum!” Dumbledore’s clear, powerful voice rang through the hall.
“Not surprising at all, is it!”
“Fantastic, Viktor!”
Even without shock or suspense, applause and cheers swept across the Great Hall. And when Viktor Krum stood and walked toward the room beside Dumbledore, the cheering reached its peak.
“I knew you were destined to be the Champion!” Even amid the noise, the Headmaster of Durmstrang’s excited voice rang loudly.
But at that mont, Draco saw sothing that puzzled him...
“It’s a bit... subdued.”
“Huh? Draco, did you say sothing?” With everyone cheering so loudly, Pansy could barely hear him. Trying to catch his voice, she leaned in so close she was practically pressed against his chest.
From a short distance away, Hermione watched with a darkened expression.
“No... it just seems odd.”
Unlike what one might expect, Draco didn’t see any excitent on Viktor Krum’s face. Instead, Krum looked almost weary, as if he had no desire to take part in the Triwizard Tournant at all.
It was unexpected, to say the least...
...
As the first champion disappeared from sight, the applause and chatter finally died down.
All attention shifted back to Dumbledore standing before the Goblet of Fire.
Seconds later, the pale blue flas turned red again, and a second parchnt fluttered out through the flas...
“The champion of Beauxbatons—”
Just like before, every wizard’s gaze imdiately settled on a particular witch among them.
Unlike Viktor Krum, she had already risen from her seat with complete confidence even before Dumbledore read the na on the parchnt, her body angled ever so slightly toward the champions’ chamber.
She was certain she would be the one.
And that witch was...
“Fleur Delacour, congratulations!”
Draco wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but compared to the previous announcent, Dumbledore’s tone sounded noticeably warr toward this Beauxbatons champion. He even offered her a gentle word of encouragent.
It couldn’t possibly be the natural allure of a Veela, could it?
Just as Draco drifted into that thought, a smug, barely suppressed voice reached his ear.
“Don’t make wait too long, if you really are that exceptional.”
With a swish of her beautiful silver hair, Fleur—elegant and proud—glided toward the room every wizard watched with anticipation.
Left behind were the Beauxbatons students who hadn’t been chosen, crying into their arms at the table, and Pansy, puffed up like an angry cat, anxiously seeking confirmation from Draco...
“Draco, are you sure you’ll be chosen?”
“........”
“No! You HAVE to beco a Champion and teach that arrogant witch a lesson!”
“........”
Seeing Pansy all fluffed up, Draco could only give a small nod.
He was fairly certain that if he didn’t agree, Pansy would cling to him and bring it up endlessly.
Still, the two of them talking as if the Champion spot was already theirs made the nearby wizards exchange odd looks...
Goyle and Crabbe, who had no clue what was going on, glanced at each other.
‘Do Draco and the boss lady have so plan?’
...
After Fleur Delacour entered the room, the Great Hall quieted again. But this ti, beneath the silence was a strong, rising excitent.
Because next, it was Hogwarts’ turn...
The Goblet of Fire flared red again. Sparks burst outward as the flas shot high, and Dumbledore plucked the third parchnt from the tip of the fire.
Even Pansy, who had been buzzing around Draco monts before, went silent. Her anxious expression made Draco glance her way.
Hermione, who hadn’t seen Draco slip his parchnt in, had her eyes shut tight, fingers interlaced as she murmured a prayer for soone.
Ironically, Draco—the one who should have been nervous—remained calm, watching Dumbledore, who still hadn’t spoken.
No—if one looked closely, there was even a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of Draco’s lips...
Because as the seconds passed, Dumbledore remained frozen before the Goblet, making no move at all. This was unlike anything that had happened so far, and the wizards around them gradually broke into confused whispers.
“What’s happening?”
“Why hasn’t he said the na?”
“Did sothing go wrong?”
“Could the parchnt have a na so unexpected even the Headmaster is surprised?”
“Seriously? Then what about Cedric...”
“Keep your voice down.”
There was no point pretending anymore—Cedric Diggory’s stiff expression made it clear he sensed sothing was off.
If Cedric Diggory had been full of confidence earlier, that confidence was now dissolving into shock and disbelief as Dumbledore continued to hesitate.
And then, for so inexplicable reason, Cedric Diggory looked toward Draco’s seat.
That one glance made him freeze.
Why… that expression?
It was a smirk—mocking.
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