SNEAK PEEK:
"Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — Albus waved towards the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."
Severus took a deep drink of his wine as Albus took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. Everyone watched, waiting... Severus rolled his eyes at the sense of melodrama filling the room.
The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it — the whole room gasped.
Albus caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."
Severus watched as Potter's friend, Viktor Krum, rose from the Slytherin table and slouched up toward Albus; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.
"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Igor, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"
Severus scoffed at Igor's blatant favoritism. The man had one famous student and believed he was the only one that mattered.
The fact that Severus considered his own overtly famous student to be his favorite was inconsequential. Potter was his ward. Igor was an attention seeking idiot who clings to the coattails of others to raise his own station.
The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Albus, "is Fleur Delacour!"
"Ow ow," Fred Weasley whistled loudly from the his seat across from Potter at the Slytherin table. Severus hoped Potter or Bones smacked him for catcalling at a guest student in their castle. Particularly when he was seated with Potter, who had became as close to Weasley as he seemed to be with Bones and Lovegood.
A young woman, who must be at least a quarter veela, got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
Olympe clapped politely and sent a disapproving look towards where the remainder of her students were creating a quiet spectacle. Two of the girls who had not been selected had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.
When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with the students' excitement you could almost taste it.
The Hogwarts champion next...
Severus prayed with all his might to any God available that it would not be one of his Slytherins. He could not handle it if he had to worry about one of them competing in this death trap of a tournament this year on top of the stress of the darkening mark on his left arm.
"The Hogwarts champion," Albus called, "is Cedric Diggory!"
Every single Hufflepuff jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Mister Diggory, one of Pomona's sixth year students, made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. The applause for Diggory went on so long that it was some time before Albus could make himself heard again.
"Excellent!" Albus called happily as at last the noise died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real —"
Albus suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.
Severus felt his chest tighten with a sudden pang of anxiety as the fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.
This was not supposed to happen. And when things that were not supposed to happen did happen, particularly on Halloween, it usually involved-
"Harry Potter."
Severus' eyes flew to the green eyed gaze of his ward just in time to see the child's (for it did not matter that Potter was now 14, he was a child) eyes shift from a startled look of surprise to one of absolute delight.
Severus did not need to be beside him to interpret his words as Potter stated his belief that this horrifying turn of events was "brill".
Which, it absolutely, undoubtedly, was not.
There was nothing 'brill' about it at all.