Sunday, 25 October 2009
7:00pm, after supper

As dinner concluded and the empty plates and used cutlery was vanished away, an air of anticipation filled the Great Hall.  The enchanted ceiling above showed and orange and magenta sunset streaked with purple clouds, and the crowd of students and staff hummed at what they knew was coming.

The second task of the TetraWizard Tournament!

The Goblet of Fire was stood up again on its pedastal for all to see, blue flames licking out of it.  Inside were all the names of champion hopefuls, but only a few would ever emerge and grant the named a chance eternal fame and glory.   Behind, all lined up, were the twelve students who'd represented their schools in the first task - a feat of skill and strength and agility! Their role in this tournament was nearly done, but must pass the torch to new champions. 

"The time has come for a new challenge!" announced the official from the Tournament.  "The second task of this TetraWizard Tournament!"

There was applause, but it died down quickly so that no one would miss a word when the official spoke again.  "And now I shall invite the Heads of all four illustrious schools to come and receive the names of the next Champions!"

Again applause and the Goblet roared with blue fire. 


This thread is open.  Please be invited to join in the excitement, and the champions will be announced soon!

Old Ferreole LeBeau was the first to come forward, the wizened old cajun apparently making haste in order to get all the pomp out of the way as soon as possible so he could get back to his game of O's and X's.  Step, clump. Step, clump.  Step, clump.  He made his way down the dais to stand near the Goblet on its pedestal.  The Ministry official stepped aside with a grand gesture that seemed to annoy LeBeau.

But all the same, he lifted his hand into the air, beckoning to the goblet.  "Spit it out!"

Obliging, the Goblet of Fire spewed fourth two tongues of blue fire, and charred and singed floated out two scraps of paper.

Ferreole LeBeau caught them, one in each hand. 

"Louise Parker!  And Milton Steinbeck."

Victoire was all smiles and blonde hair and red lipstick and white feathers, an elaborate facade that disguised her sheer embarrassment. Beauxbatons were last. Behind Durmstrang, Hogwarts and - the worst part - Salem. It seemed that even the harshest of discipline and most effulgent of encouragement hadn't whipped her students into a frenzy. What else could she do? Victoire would've taken on the tasks herself if it was allowed, lest her school and her own reputation be humiliated. If Beauxbatons remained in last position, hell hath no fury like a board of governors scorned. It'd just reiterate all the accusations of 'being too inexperienced' and Victoire was more than determined to break this assumption. It seemed she'd just have to try that little bit harder.

Watching that old crow LeBeau stumble about with the mouth of a farmer made her cringe. Whilst Bisclavret still beamed with narrowed eyes and a display of ferociously white teeth, her toes curled up in seven inch heels. Americans - they just lacked ceremonial decorum. As he read out the names, she immediately began searching in the crowds, looking for the two called names. Victoire had not heard of them, which could only be a good thing. No history, no expectations and certainly no prowess there. Hopefully Salem would fall into fourth position. And rightly so.

The brooding figure of the blonde headmistress got to her feet, flicking her hair over one shoulder and placing a gracious (yet secretly reluctant) hand on LeBeau's shoulder. "Thankyou, friend."

Pfft. Friend. A pig could've flown through the Great Hall window at such a fraudulent statement.

Taking her position over the Goblet, Victoire gazed out into the sea of faces. Finally resting upon her carefully selected Beauxbatons champions, she placed both palms together and bowed her head slightly. "Best of luck to you all." This however was a genuine statement, only Merlin knew how much Beauxbatons needed it.

A small piece of parchment danced up from the blue flames, fluttering slightly in the air before neatly placing itself in Victoire's palm. Slowly unravelling it, her eyes widened in surprise. It was a strange one, and Victoire guessed that it could only go extremely well or horrible wrong.

"The Fontaine sisters!"

Auberon rose as the Beauxbatons Headmistress sat. His robes were the usual, for him at least - grand, traditional and prominently featuring bits of dead animals (in this case, a yeti-hide shoulder piece). He rather liked going last in these Tournament annoucements, so was a bit sour that in this case, it would be Reid who got the final word. Auberon liked having his school be able to size up their competition before the champions were announced.

He swept over to the Goblet, extending his hand as the pieces of paper fluttered down. He caught the first one with practiced ease, looking at the name with a slight smirk. Not the most conventional choice, really; this one tended to get himself in trouble, and had been in the Dregs before. But for raw talent, he was hard to pass up...

"Fyetka Strelnikov!" He boomed, giving the boy a curt nod of approval. He'd heard there was a relative at Hogwarts; no doubt whomever it was was a mere shadow to their Durmstang counterpart.

The next paper fluttered down, and his smirk took a moment in coming. He didn't have the measure of this boy, not yet, but what he'd seen had not impressed him overmuch. Talented, yes; but far too softhearted! And muggle-friendly, too, if the rumors were true. A great shame, that.

Ah well! He hadn't brought any students here he actually felt would ruin their chances, and if the Tournament didn't bring out the best in these boys, what would?

"Heinrich Faust!" He boomed, nodding to Faust as well. Do well, boys, or pray whatever dangers who'll face overcome you, he thought, though that was hardly something to yell...at Hogwarts, anyway. At Durmstrang it was more appropriate, of course...

Mace was up to his usual after dinner tricks of juggling silverware, keen on wondering who would be the next on the chopping block for this little tourney. The acromantula task had been impressive. Not to dissuade from the efforts of his Salem peers but Mace thought he had the perfect strategy for that one. Provided he kept up momentum. Although Tayrn would probably squash him for the collateral damage that would be bound to occur.

So imagine his surprise when ol' Ferry announced the next champions. At first he stood, the tone of the voice making him think like a particular shenanigan had been found out, similar to moments years past at Salem. The dreaded full name absolution. Then he did a little mental re-winding.

"Oh come on!" Mace began. "I know how I signed my piece of paper that went in." Jagged script that clearly read 'Mace Steinbeck' on the slip. There was no way the Goblet of Flame here would have an auto-correct feature.

Well here we go again. The ballad of Milton Steinbeck.

"Suppose we better go up?" he said to Parker, finding her sitting a few spots away.

Figaro was well into the high doldrums of his punitive week of silence wherein Professor Sandusky had saw fit to remove his voice for a full sevenday. [1] It had been slogging.  Frustrating.  Embarrassing.  And hard to admit, somewhat educational.  He'd actually done better in classes.  But it was all just boring as hell and he was counting the minutes.  Whenever he had to say something, he'd have to take the time to write it out on parchment or on the chalkboard Sandusky had given him.  It was almost easier not to bother.

He sat among his peers, leaning on the table and absently doodling on his chalk board.  There was a dragon and a crudely drawn Dennis Creevey playing guitar.  He was working on giving the dragon a saxophone when the bigwigs up front started drawing names.

Fig perked up and watched as the lucky sods got picked and made their way to the front.  He'd met Cecile Fontaine in class - she didn't seem like the challenge sort.  And then, from Salem it was that rude girl they'd met in the pub back in August, Louise.  And hey - from Durmstrang, it was that kid Heinrich who'd pissed off Sophie so much.  They had something in common. 

He clapped.  Well, who from Hogwarts then?  Figaro's name was in the Goblet, but probably stuck way at the bottom.

1.

link

Heinrich had been waiting, holding his breath.  Perhaps it was his imagination that Eisenberg had paused for a moment before saying his name.  He locked eyes with the Durmstrang headmaster for the briefest of seconds and nodded in response, a silent agreement that he would carry the Durmstrang banner forward or die trying.

His silence ended a fraction of a second later as he leapt to his feet, arms raised high.  "Durmstrang uber alles!"

This is one thing you'll never be able to say you did first, Viktor.  Your little brother is competing in the Tetrawizard Tournament.  I am the seventh son of a seventh son.  I have been forged in the fires of Durmstang and Faustheim.  I am steel, strong, flexible and keen.  I am so going to screw this up.

"... Oui, Oui... C'est vrai[1]!" Cecile's light but cheery laughter was barely audible over the more exuberant laughter of her tablemates, but she didn't mind. She was just pleased to be enjoying herself. The last month had been... rocky, to say the least, and she was finally calming down and focusing on the present, rather than the abysmal future. "Non, non... tu as plus dramatique[2]!" She said with a shake of her head as she nudged the student next to her playfully. She meant to go on but a sudden hush fell over the crowd, silencing the laughter and bringing the conversation down to murmured whispers. One glance at the stage told her why, and she fell into a sober silence as well, the expression on her face playing between apprehension and hope.

"The time has come for a new challenge! The second task of this TetraWizard Tournament!"

Zut alors! The second task already? Time was moving much too quickly for comfort. With a sigh, she managed to raise her hands in a respectful applause, but had barely managed to start clapping before the applause quickly died as the first headmaster was invited to speak. She was pleased to see it wasn't her headmaster reaching into the goblet first as she was rife with conflicted emotions and wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel when it was time. Relieved? Scared? Hopeful? She feared choosing one so soon. Distracted, she didn't catch the names chosen for SWIM and simply applauded reflexively along with the others.

Then Madame Bisclavret took the stage, looking decidedly out of place with her blood-red lips and flouncing feathers amongst the more dourly dressed headmasters. Only Salem's headmaster could come close to being as fabulous, with his purple robes and massive stuffed creatures, but Bisclavret won in the end with sheer style. However, no matter how striking and inspiring she was, Cecile was not filled with joy at her taking the stage. She had hoped their school would be pulled last to give her some time to prepare, after all, what if her name was chosen...

"The Fontaine sisters!"

Cecile froze in mid thought, uncertain of what she had heard. Had both of them actually been chosen? Together? All of the emotions that Cecile was prepared to choose between washed over her in a massive convoluted wave. She was going to compete, terror. She could win and potentially free herself from her gilded cage, hope. She could lose and face Bisclavrets fury and a future of married servitude, apprehension. But most of all, she was going to go through it wish Elodie, and that filled her with soothing relief. She felt a tug at her hand and realized that Elodie was already at her feet and trying to drag Cecile with her towards the stage. Coming to her senses, Cecile rose to her feet with her head held high and a proud smile on her face, hoping her brave facade hid the fear within. They took their places at the front, next to Salem's champions, and waited patiently for the other schools to choose theirs.[3]

1.	Yes, yes.... it's true!
2.	No, no... You are very dramatic
3.	I am ending this post here, so it isn't totally too long, and will respond to Durmstrangs pick in my next one

Fyetka sat at the Durmstrang table, watching the movement around the Great Hall. The anticipation was appearing in all shapes. Nervous laughter from some tables morphed into carefree cockiness at others. There were smirks and groans all around. And as always, there were the quiet ones who watched the various Headmasters with a sharp-eyed grace.

"Do you hear them?" Fyetka chuckled to his peers sitting around him. "You would think that some of them are regretting putting their names in the Goblet." Immediately after speaking, he searched out Aliya's face at the table. He probably should have been more sensitive about that subject. He knew his betrothed had been forced into it by Maras and he wished the strict teacher hadn't done it. He wanted his girl protected, not left on her own.

The girls from Durmstrang had done a fantastic job in the last round, sweeping away the competition. But Aliya, though a Grumman, was no Vladlena. He only hoped that whoever went this time would do just as well. They needed to maintain their dominant status among the other schools. Sweeping stray hairs out of his eyes, his attention was turned back to the Headmasters as the Goblet began to spit out the sheets of paper.

First came Salem. His eyebrow raised slightly. One of them, Louise Parker, had been his penpal over the summer and would be a very... interesting competitor. She was very confrontational. The other he had little knowledge of other than something concerning pygmy puffs, the horrifying creatures.

Next was Beauxbatons. The moment the Fontaine sisters were called, he felt his chest constrict. Okay. Now that was a curve. Fyetka knew that Élodie could handle it, but Cécile? She was more delicate than his aunt Darya. His face remained impassive though. It was some relief to know she was going to be with her sister.

Then Durmstrang. The Goblet spit out two sheets of paper. Suddenly, Eisenburg's eyes met his own and he couldn't help but let his lips curve upward into a smirk from the challenge issued in his Headmaster's cool glare. "Fyetka Strelnikov!"

His smirk became a wry grin as he stood at the Durmstrang table amid the cheers and... wait... yes,  whistles. Oh, being Veela did have it's perks. He waited politley as Heinrich's name was called as well. The Goblet must have had a sense of humor. It put out the names of the three iciest girls the first round and the two friendliest boys the second. This was going to be fun.

He began to walk towards the front, his rich red robes fluttering behind him. As he reached the front, he smiled at the Beauxbaton girls before facing front and standing to his full, powerful 6'3.   

"And Headmaster Reid, would you do the honor of completing the ceremony?"  The Ministry official bade the Hogwarts Headmaster to step forward and the tall thin wizard obliged with the stoic dignity he most often displayed.

Herschel Reid, in his crisp brown robes and high collar approached the Goblet and eyed the four house tables full of his students.  They were intermixed still with the colors of the other three schools, but all eyes were on him.

He reached his hand into the air and the Goblet produced two slips of paper simotaneously.

"Alexandria Carstairs," he read.  A Ravenclaw again - he was pleased.  And then...

Despite his attempts to keep a dispassionate face, the pause was heavy.  Headmaster Reid then appeared to resign to the wisdom of the Goblet of Fire and read the final name aloud.

"Figaro Sellaphix."


"And there you have it!  The eight new champions for the second task!" announced the Ministry official.  "The rules are the same as before!  There will be no..." 

The official continued on with the familiar reading of the rules, how the Champions would have to complete the challenge by their own power only, and how safety was to be observed and so on and so forth, and how Mister Garrick Ollivander had again arrived to inspect their wands. 

Figaro snapped to attention as many eyes turned to him.   Headmaster Reid had called his name!  The Goblet of Fire had picked Figaro Flamel Sellaphix to represent Hogwarts in the TetraBloody Tournament!!! It was not to be believed.  How could it be believed? 

As the Ministry official finished talking, Figaro rose slowly from his seat.  His face looked blank and as surprised as anyone else, but as he got to his full height, there was a big smile on his face.   And he thrust both fists into the air, triumphant!  It was true! He was champion!

His mouth was moving as he went right on with proclaiming his inevitable glory and victory but not a sound could come out.  He could shout his lungs out and crow like a banshee, but no one would hear a word and he just didn't care. 

He walked down the line to the front, slapping five down the row whether people were holding out their hands or not.  He swaggered down the row.  It wasn't four days ago that they'd all been in this Great Hall that without any reason a fight had broken out and everyone had been slogging around angry for days.  But look at him now? Hogwarts champion.

He fell in line with the other Champions looking as smug as a galleon.  This was going to be a disaster.

Alex wasn't especially enthusiastic about the ceremony that went with the Tetra Wizard Tournament. Since they were all about establishing links between nations, which was very admirable, the pomp wasn't conductive to their purpose. Officially, that was, because it had become obvious that, with the possible exception of Salem, the schools were more interested in looking good in front of their enemies- oops, friends.

And even Salem seemed quite keen on winning, if only to prove everyone else wrong.

But despite her best attempts at disdain, sarcasm, etc., Alex couldn't help feeling the anticipation as Headmaster Reid stepped forward. She wasn't close enough to see his expression clearly, but she could hear him easily when he called her name out. She'd been chosen as champion.

Oh, and Fig brain had been as well. Maybe the Goblet was broken?

She gave her fellow Ravenclaws a triumphant grin before standing, stepping carefully over the bench and walking as calmly as possibly towards the front of the Great hall, ignoring Figaro's antics. Someone from Hogwarts had to be dignified, after all.When she reached the front, she gave the other champions- the other champions!- a polite smile before turning to face everyone, head held high.

Heinrich nodded to the two Hogwart's champions.  Alex Carstairs he knew from the dueling club.  She would do well.  He wondered what she would think when she saw how far up he was going to be stepping his game.  To say he'd been slacking in dueling wasn't exactly a lie; he just hadn't been giving one hundred percent.

Figaro on the other hand was an interesting choice.  His nose had been broken because of his big mouth and he'd been silenced by a professor as punishment for the same reason.  He had a wicked sense of humour, however.  Heinrich had exchanged a number of jokes and had learned that the boy's mind didn't work along the same lines most people's did.  If there was anyone who was going to come up with a solution that was outside the box, it would be Figaro Sellaphix.

The Fontaine sisters would be an interesting pair; they were like two halves of the same whole.  Where one faltered, the other was weak.  Were they one person, they would make an ideal champion.  Separately they would have a harder time.  For them to be in the same year, they had to be twins; fraternal rather than identical.  He hadn't had much of a chance to speak with either of them but it would be a nice chance to practice his French.

Mace Steinbeck would do well also.  He was quiet but had a competitive spirit.  He also had a love of small fuzzy creatures, something Heinrich could identify with.  Louise Parker, on the other hand was pure hellion.  If there was anyone who would be able to brazen her way through the challenge, it would be Louise. 

It was an interesting mix.  Heinrich could only speculate as to how things would work out.  He didn't consider himself to be on the bottom of the list but he'd be lying to himself if he tried to claim to be the wizard who was going to come out on top.  That was a place he just automatically assumed belonged to Fyetka Strelnikov.  Now there was a wizard he was proud to stand beside.  Together they would carry Durstrang forward into history.

Figaro grinned with excited eyebrows at Alexandra.  She looked super serious, but he wasn't surprised.  Looking down the line at the other champions, many of them looked like they'd received death sentences.  He cringed more for them than himself - should he be worried?  Of course he should.  He'd watched the first task with a kind of gladiator-bloodbath feeling of disbelief.  He didn't think he'd have been up for that - probably would've ended up like Teodosio, or at best Corey Gaubert.  Half naked and covered in berry juice.

He caught Heinrich's eye and gave him a comradely raise of his chin.  Heinrich pissed off Sophie.  They had that in common.

"If the Champions will follow me...!"  The Ministry official led the way, and the Champions and Headmasters followed, to the adjoining antechamber where the ancient and skilled Garrick Ollivander was prepared to measure their wands.

A few in the Great Hall, perhaps more, were left with a sense of incompleteness.  No one had mentioned, like last time, when the Task would take place, nor had anyone made note of the location.  Certainly this was an oversight? Perhaps the information would come at a later date? But make no mistake, the public part of the ceremony had clearly ended.  The Champions were led away, and someone came round to pick up the Goblet. 

Desert was served.  But there was more yet for the Champions.

The Antechamber was no so crowded this time, with a third fewer champions in attendance, but the excitement was as real as before.  This was the beginning of a great moment for these youths.  Their glory began and ended in the Second Task, though the Tournament would last much longer.  But every link of a chain is important, and each Champion held a piece of fate in their sweaty little pockets. 


Continued here for the Champions.