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The Goblet of Fire waits in the middle of the antechamber of the Great Hall. It waits for those brave enough to scrawl their name on a piece of parchment, and throw fate into its fiery depths. The line surrounding the goblet prevents younger teenagers from submitting their names, though that does not stop a few persistent souls from trying.

This area of the castle is nearly always busy and nearly always has an audience. House elves occasionally peek into the room, scurry around the goblet to sweep away fallen tears and lost shoes, and then disappear back into the kitchens.

Parker hurried to the Antechamber with a mission: to put her name in the Goblet of Fire.  It was the reason she had put herself through going to the UK in the first place.  She was ready.  As she stood before the miraculous Goblet, she was momentarily transfixed in its glory.  How many daring witches and wizards have stood where she was, and done what she was about to do?  Lifting the scrap of paper that held her name in front of her, she edged closer to the rim.  She already had her name printed on it a month beforehand, so sure that it would be chosen.  How she dreamed of this moment.

Wanting to waste not another moment, she smirked wickedly before throwing it in.  The fire cackled and sputtered colors, the light reflecting off her features in a dance.  It was done.

Now we wait.

September 11

Getting up until the last minute, Figaro was finally going to put his name in the cup.  He hadn't planned to, and he was still treating it as kind of a joke.  Figaro was probably what any good Hufflepuff should be, but he didn't think anyone thought a Hufflepuff would actually take the Tournament, even in the face of house hero Cedric Diggory.  But Figaro wasn't a hero, he was a laugh. 

He gamboled up to the Goblet with a group of laughing friends in tow.  The blue, dreamy age line was dim relative to the bright flaming blue coming from the cup, set high on a pedestal. 

"Okay okay, shut your face-hole, ya blag...!"  Figaro jumped forward with his bit of paper with his name printed in big block capitols.  He crossed the age line, and it felt cold as the light brushed his trouser legs.  He reached up to put the paper into the fire, but it was whipped from his fingers, flipped into the air and sucked down in a flurry of sparks and flame.

"...wicked!"

While not completely interested in competing the in tournament Church still figured he ought to put his name into the Goblet. This was, after all a once in a life time opportunity. Therefore it wasn't something one should simply pass up easily. And after all, it was a fairly decent challenge. Certainly if he was picked he would be able to keep up.

So without much of a care Church wrote his name now on a piece of paper and headed into the antechamber where the Goblet stood. It was truly an interesting magical artifact and Church simply marveled at it as he approached. Calmly he stepped over the age line and slipped the paper with his name on it into the flames.

"That was easy," he muttered.

Perhaps this was a mistake.  During the last year, luck hadn't exactly been on Sasha's side.  In fact, if there had been the slightest hint of good luck during the previous year, it was that Sasha had made it through and was actually standing here, at Hogwarts, for his sixth year.  He wasn't champion material - Professor Trishna was right about that.  And, what if he wasn't just unlucky?  How many times had he wondered it before?  What if he was somehow cursed?  If that was the case, this could be a very big mistake.

But, perhaps, this was actually a necessary step.  Perhaps, in the unlikely event he was chosen, this would help him convince himself that he wasn't cursed.  That he really wasn't helpless like everyone seemed to think.  And, that everything he'd learned and experienced and studied in the last year ... well ... it had actually left him stronger. 

Either way, not even trying ... giving up without even attempting wasn't an option. 

The name 'Sasha Rudolf Waldgraf Schlagenweit' was written in tight, neat cursive on the slip of parchment in his hand.  He crossed the room alone and reached out, watching the bit of paper as it was pulled into the flame.  Regardless of whether it was a mistake or not, it was done.  Sasha took a deep breath and turned, hurrying out of the room to his next class.

Kirby Gracean had head all the whispering and excitement about the upcoming tournament that her school was hosting. She smiled lightly as she was amused as she walked past a group of first and second years who were arguing if they should be allowed to enter. Kirby had never seen the huge fuss being made over it but she did like the idea of eternal glory.

Walking gradually from the gryffindor tower and her common room she made her way down towards the great hall and the antichamber. Why was she going to put herself through this? Not like she would be chosen anyway so she would not have her over protective parents to tell. She entered the anti chamber and walked over to the firing goblet. After taking an extremely long and deep breath she wrote her name clearly on a piece of parchment and placed it into the fire entering.

Finally! It was about damn time that they brought out the Goblet for them to dump their names into. Vex was getting impatient waiting around for it. It was, after all, the only reason he was here. Why else bother coming to Britain? Well, aside from seeing his relatives, he supposed. But that was mostly only done out of obligation. Vex didn't mind seeing his family, but honestly he had better things to do that practice dueling with little Vulpy. Speaking of, Vex found himself rather disappointed with his cousin. It wasn't a secret that Vulpes was a complete softy but still, this was a legendary event. How could anyone not want to compete?

Confidently Vex marched over the age line, slip of paper with his name in hand. There wasn't even a moment hesitation as he reached the cup, Vex simply gave his paper to the flames. Arrogant smile on his face, Vex turned and left. No words. Nothing else needed to be said.

Huck had more or less hit rock bottom in terms of his manhood.

He absolutely despised strolling around on his own anymore, and found excuses to either tag along behind his friends or drag his friends along with him. For those closest to him, that meant waiting for him before they went to meals, stalling outside the bathrooms every time he had to take a leak, and putting up with his ridiculous need to walk with someone to each and every class.

Did he feel like the world's biggest wimp asking a girl to be his bodyguard that night? Even if the girl was Gracie? Yes. Of course. How was he supposed to feel? He was a grown-ass man using a skirt as a human shield.

Then again, there was always the distinct possibility that his brain was trying to lie to itself. It often did, when it came to Gracie. How likely was it that he only wanted to share a nice stroll with just her? Better to deny it to himself than to get rejected somewhere down the road.

The pair had walked slowly and sweetly- their arms linked- all the way from the common room to the glittering chalice that stood before them. He looked down at his name, scrawled in thick letters on a haggard scrap of parchment, and took a deep breath. "You ready?" he addressed his friend, his eyebrows raised.

10th September, 1000 hours

Raine Almasy hardly looked up from her place in the textbook that she was holding up as she strolled into the Great Hall. There was an hour to spare between classes and she was going through a chapter they were supposed to have skimmed for their imminent Charms which, uncharacteristically, the prefect had neglected today until just now. But she'd also promised herself that she would get around to tossing her name into the Goblet today.

A soft meowl came from below and she finally forced her eyes up, just in time to quickly sidestep bumping into a gaggle of tiny Gryffindors headed in the opposite direction. Raine paused to watch them leave the Hall, a thoughtful look on her face, and then continued on her way to the antechamber. Maurice followed dependably, his black tail swaying gracefully behind him.

With the textbook out of the way and all thoughts of wandwork safely pushed to the back of her head, Raine approached the Goblet of Fire. She regarded it with a serious gaze, the blue flame reflected in the paler azure of her eyes-- it was mesmerizing. Her feet moved on their own account and brought her past the line, as she reached into her robes to retrieve a rolled up piece of parchment.


Raine glanced down at her full name witheringly and then, standing on her tip toes, threw the paper into the Goblet in one swift gesture. The fire consumed it whole. That was that. She shrugged to herself and left the circle, meeting Maurice who'd been waiting at its perimeter. "Back to lessons," the young witch muttered. Tournament or not; life went on.

Up to the goblet Gracie went with him, arm in arm as if it was something they had done all their lives instead of something that had just begun—albeit gradually—since he had left St. Mungo’s.

It. . . wasn’t something that bothered her, really, when she thought about it; it wasn’t as if they didn’t already hang out half the time—because they did—and it wasn’t as if she didn’t want to, either. But as the weeks wore on, what she hadn’t immediately realized during that visit to Shildon had slowly begun to dawn on her. After a week of class, of him accompanying—and being accompanied by—their friends to places he wouldn’t have thought twice about going by himself months ago, she had almost brought it up, a little bemused (and annoyed, even), and had opened her mouth and. . . stopped.

At that moment the realization had completely sunk in like cold, chilly damp. Afterwards she had stopped giving him strange looks, and joked that she’d end up carrying out his prefect duties instead.

Gracie looked up at Huck and smiled, a slight, amused curve tugging at the corner of her lips. “When was I not?” she replied cheekily, and dropped her own name into the flames. “Now come on—you still have to walk me to class!”

Dawn was only just breaking when Alex walked into the antechamber, her feet silent on the cold floor. No- one else was around as she walked over to the goblet, stepping across the age line without difficulty. She lifted her hand up, a slip of paper in its grasp bearing her name. Alexandra Grace Carstairs. Not quite tall enough to reach, she stood on tiptoe, the blue flames neither hot not cold. She bit her lip, her fingers pausing inches from the flames.

Did she really want to do this? Her Father would not be impressed, that was certain- while he hadn't explicitly forbidden her from entering, he hadn't been especially pleased by the concept either. Too late for doubts, she chided herself. This was something she wanted to do: a challenge, something to really test her skill. She had been looking forward to it. Her Father had no say in this, nor could he do anything to prevent it.

Her fingers closed the gap, releasing the paper in a flurry of sparks. She watched it burn with satisfaction. A brief feeling of childish glee at the minor act of rebellion, a smile made ghoulish by the flickering light before her face became impassive once again.

"I'll just have to hope it's not a boggart," she murmured to herself, turning and walking away without another word.

The 6th

Mace was putting his name into the cup later than he had thought but not super late. Potions essays he could save for the last minute. Not the flaming cup that would determine who competed and when. He just hadn't jumped to prospect because he'd been so busy. A newborn snuggle of puffs had been 'teething' for lack of a better term as their tongues grew, so Mace had been devoted to hand feeding them in the common room of the central Salem dorms.

The tournament was what he had come for. He imagined what the cheering would be like, his little sisters Merry Sherry and Cherry would be screaming their heads off whenever they got word of him competing in a task. He was half surprised he hadn't found them stowing away in the dragodirigible. This was, in Mace's humble opinion, the most important thing he would ever do, more important than school or the puffs or ensuring rockin' music to the denizens of Hogwarts.

Well, maybe not as important as the puffs.

On a ripped corner of newspaper (hopefully the other words wouldn't muddle things up) Mace wrote down his name in his sharp handwriting.



He tossed his name into the cup, where it burned and disappeared. Hopefully he would compete soon. At any other time Mace would be amiable about his chances but with the submission fresh in the moment, he really wanted to show what he could do.

The 7th

This was a TetraWizard Tournament! More Drama! More Intrigue! More Death! No, scratch that, while going out in a blaze of glory would be considered epic if the track record of the tournament struck again they would never have another anymore. And since anyone at sixteen and NEWT level could compete, the contingency plans must be thorough. She wondered how they would account for a possible inferi attack.

Besides the tournament what Ligeia loved most about this year was the early mornings in her schedule, where after breakfast she could linger through homework and other activities with just Charms before lunch. Time to see what everyone else did, to wonder about the castle if she had time.

She was split, did she want to watch the drama unfold or partake in it herself? The other Mr. Morgan was slowly turning her mind to more Task suitable active wear and she was quite the competent witch and prefect. But still, she would rather wait and compete when she had time to observe and form strategy, if she competed at all.

With some of her favorite colored ink Ligeia had her signature on a sliver of parchment that curved into a roll.



She tossed it in with a flourish. It wouldn't do if she had written her full name. Ligeia would contemplate joining Myrtle in haunting the bathroom if her name was pulled from the cup and 'Polly Esther Ligeia Canterbury' was announced as a champion.

Josh hurried into the Antechamber just after breakfast, slip of paper clutched in his hand. He ad been considering and reconsidering this for days, which was one reason why he hadn't put his name in sooner. still, he appraoched the Goblet Of Fire carefully, since he knew very little about this powerful magcial artifact, and he sincerely doubted it only provided names.

still, he dropped his slip of paper into the flames, watching his name disappear into the flames and wondering if he had made the right choice.

There was no question when it came to entering the TetraWizard. Kitty knew it was for her. Of course, she wasn't the most athletic of the Slytherin girls, nor the most intelligent, but like all selfish creatures, Kitty was tempted by the promise of glory. Pure, pristine glory. A stint as chaser on the Quidditch team and a creative mind for all things diabolical, she thought of herself as the perfect contender. When it came to wriggling out of hotspots of trouble, she was queen, and there would be no qualms about pulling a dirty trick over the other schools. Hogwarts was to win, and it would be all thanks to Kitty Li.

Trotting through the antechamber, she made little notice of the faces around her. Pathetic, the lot of them. Joshua Harcroft was midway through throwing his little piece of parchment as Kitty did the same. How on earth were Hogwarts to win when every goody-two-shoes going wanted to 'do their best' and 'take one for the team'. When compared to those beautiful, intelligent creatures of Beauxbatons and the cruel, agile brutes of Durmstrang, Hogwarts just wouldn't cut the mustard unless they had the harshest of the harsh on their side. Kitty didn't feel all too threatened by Salem; after all, new money and new wizardry would never hold up when commencing battle with the ancient institutions of Europe. Right?

Watching her parchment dissolve in the flickering blue flames, Kitty turned on her heel, giving a confident smile. Of course the Goblet would choose her. It'd be a fool not to.