The reaction was imdiate.
Gasps and squeals rang out, particularly from the girls at every table. Excited whispers flitted from one end of the hall to the other.
"Oh my God—" Tracey clutched Eira’s sleeve, nearly spilling her pumpkin juice. "It’s him. It’s Viktor Krum. Do you see him, Eira?!"
"Yes, Tracey," Eira said patiently.
"He’s right there! Breathing the sa air as us! Oh rlin, I think my heart stopped. Eira, what if he sits near us again? No, what if he looks at ?!" Tracey squeaked, shaking Eira so hard her fork rattled.
Eira laughed under her breath. "You’ll faint before he notices you."
"I will not!" Tracey insisted, eyes shining. "Do you think he’ll sign autographs? Maybe I could get him to write his na on my body. Then I’d never wash it again."
"Do you even know how ridiculous you sound?" Eira teased, though her smile betrayed her amusent.
Tracey’s cheeks turned pink. "I don’t care. It’s Viktor Krum. Do you have no soul at all?"
"None whatsoever," Eira said dryly.
Tracey groaned dramatically and collapsed against her goblet as though dying of heartbreak.
At the front, Karkaroff’s voice bood. "Now, Viktor, my boy—show them your courage. Step forward. Let all of Hogwarts see Durmstrang’s pride."
The Durmstrang boys behind them began stamping their feet in rhythm, a deep thunder that echoed through the hall. So clapped, others shouted in their guttural tongue, the sound like a ritual chant.
Krum withdrew a slip of parchnt and strode toward the Goblet of Fire, which flared with blue-white fla. He dropped his na in, and the fire swallowed it with a hiss.
The hall erupted in cheers. Girls squealed, hands pressed to their cheeks.
Tracey gasped so loudly half the table turned to look. "He did it! He actually did it! Oh, Eira, I think I’m going to faint!"
"Please do not faint on my eggs," Daphne muttered beside her.
Tracey ignored her entirely, clapping furiously. "I love him! I absolutely—positively—undeniably love him!"
Eira smirked, shaking her head. "And tomorrow you’ll fall in love with soone else."
"Never!" Tracey declared dramatically. "My heart is his forever!"
Ron Weasley was nearly climbing onto the Gryffindor bench, waving both arms. "Viktor! Oi, Viktor! Big fan, mate! Huge fan! Over here!"
Krum ignored him completely, returning to Karkaroff, who bead proudly and clasped him in an embrace.
Draco Malfoy burst out laughing. "Look at Weasley, trying to get Krum’s attention! Oh, this is priceless."
Ron flushed red, muttering furiously while Hermione rolled her eyes.
Eira leaned closer to Fleur, lowering her voice. "So. When will you put your na in?"
Fleur set down her cup, her silver-blue eyes gleaming. "Later, ma chère. After breakfast, I will all add my na together other students. It is tradition for Beauxbâtons."
Eira nodded, but Fleur’s smile turned sly. She leaned closer, her lips brushing Eira’s ear, her accent lting every word into silk.
"If I am chosen," she whispered, "you will give a proper reward."
Heat shot up Eira’s neck. Her ear burned crimson. She nearly dropped her fork.
"N-nope," she stamred, shaking her head furiously. "Not until I decide."
Fleur clicked her tongue. "Stingy little girl. Do you think you can escape ? After last night... after I tasted your delicious—"
Whatever she had planned to say was drowned out by a sudden roar of laughter across the hall.
Everyone turned.
Fred and George Weasley were standing proudly before the Goblet, grinning from ear to ear. They had just dropped in their nas. For a mont, the fire glowed calmly. Then it flared scarlet.
Both twins were hurled backward, crashing onto the flagstones in a heap.
Gasps rang out, followed instantly by hysterical laughter.
Fred leapt up first, his hair sticking up wildly. "See? I told you it’d work! We’re in!"
George scrambled to his feet. "Yes! Champions!"
But as the hall watched, their faces began to change. Beards sprouted from their chins, long and white, growing rapidly until they trailed down their robes.
Within monts, both twins were identical to old n, their beards tangled together.
The hall exploded in laughter. Even the professors at the head table struggled to keep straight faces.
"It’s the Age Line!" Hermione crowed with delight. "Dumbledore warned you!"
Fred tugged at his beard indignantly. "Distinguished, that’s what we are. Very distinguished."
George stroked his own chin gravely. "Wise beyond our years."
The two began mock-dueling with their beards, tugging and swatting until they collapsed in a tangle, wrestling on the floor.
Tracey was nearly choking with laughter. "Oh—rlin—look at them! They’re like two ancient grandfathers fighting over a teapot!"
Even Fleur whose eyes were always obsessed with Eira, laughed softly, her shoulders shaking. Gabrielle giggled so hard she dropped her spoon.
Eira pressed her hand to her mouth, trying not to burst out laughing, though her eyes watered.
Karkaroff sniffed, muttering to Krum, "Childish. Undisciplined. This is Hogwarts’ finest?"
But Eira barely heard him. She glanced at Fleur, who was still laughing, her voice like bells. And in that mont, everything else faded—the Goblet, the chaos, the noise.
All Eira could think of was how much she adored that sound, that accent, that girl beside her.
The twins bowed deeply to their roaring audience before being escorted out by Madam Pomfrey, who looked as though she might hit them with her wand if they so much as tugged their beards again.
Breakfast stretched on, filled with murmurs of Krum’s nomination, whispers of who else might dare put their nas in, and speculation about which of the three schools would triumph. The Goblet of Fire burned steadily, waiting for more nas, its flas casting long shadows across the enchanted ceiling.
Eira, however, could not shake the warmth of Fleur’s quiet laughter beside her, nor the faint soreness at her lips that told her she would never forget the night before.
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