The Champion's Tent
The Champions are gathered in the tent roughly an hour prior to the first task starting. Only champions are allowed inside the tent.


On the perimeter of the quidditch pitch, next to a side entrance, a large tent had been erected. It blocked the view of the pitch, and the entryway into the tent flapped in the breeze. The cloth was thick, heavy, and made of a lavish golden and silver brocade. Standing by the opening was an official from the Department of Ministry- tasked with preventing anyone other than champions entering the tent.

Inside of the tent, directly in the center, stood the Goblet of Fire. Its magical flames were dancing, burning a bright blue, illuminating the otherwise dim tent. Overstuffed armchairs littered the inside of the tent, some grouped together and others on their own. In one corner was a long table set with food and drink. When the Champions first arrived at the tent, they were greeted by an official and the general rules were explained to them.

The moment was finally upon them. In less than an hour the tournament would have its official start.  The champions could easily hear the excited chatter of the crowds that were already gathering in the quidditch stands to watch the First Task. Shouts from various adults and officials as things were getting prepared could also be heard. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement and anticipation for everything to begin.[1]

1.	Feel free to keep posting in the tent thread as the First Task unfolds. Later, you can post your Champion's return to the tent.

Teodosio had never felt nervous before in his life. He had always been confident, self assured, and in complete control of his emotions. Today, however, things were different. It was one thing to be a champion, to logically know this, to operate for a few weeks as though he were invincible- it was another to be ushered into the champions tent along with eleven other students, and to be able to hear the roar of the crowds outside and realize that in a few moments his entire institution would be counting on him to succeed.

He decided he did not like the feeling.

Finding an arm chair which was set apart from the others, Teodosio sank down into it, eyes focused on his lap. He was turning his wand over in his fingers, wondering what was in store for him. Teo had no real doubts as to his qualifications or abilities as a champion, but he couldn't help but wonder what life was going to be like if he failed. Failure couldn't be an option, really, considering the reputation he had to live up to and the pressure put on him by his family to be the very best that the Medicis had to offer.

He flicked his wand, summoning over an empty glass and then a pitcher of water. It was something to do with his hands more than anything else. Teodosio wasn't particularly thirsty. He most definitely wasn't hungry. Mostly he was a ball of nerves and anticipation- trying desperately to keep it together for the sake of his own reputation.

Josh was nervously pacing in the Champions Tent, mentally going over all the spells he knew that might help him in the upcoming task. In just under an hour, it would be him and whatever the challenge was. He didn't kid himself. Schlagenweit was at a fairly large disadvantage, and Josh didn't know enough about Harper to be confident of Harper's success if he failed. Therefore, in Josh's mind, the hopes of Hogwarts were squarely on his shoulders. Hence the pacing.

Sasha had been nervous the last two weeks running - ever since his name had drifted out of that goblet.  He'd spent hours trying to speculate about and prepare for whatever they were going to be facing.  He'd even demanded extra practice sessions with Mr. Morgan, trying to run through any and every spell that might be of use.  With each passing day, his nerves grew until yesterday, when Sasha had had to dash from class to the nearest boy's room on three separate occasions.  He was certain, whatever faith any of his classmates might have had in his ability to face this task had taken some serious blows - probably with reason.  It'd be a miracle if he didn't completely humiliate himself. 

But, when Sasha woke that morning, his head was clear and the nerves had vanished.  Even now, as Sasha sat on the ground in the corner of the champion's tent and bent over his crossed legs to stretch his back, he felt calm and focused.  An unexpected though not unfamiliar feeling.  But, as he shifted and stretched his legs out in front of him, flexing his ankles to loosen his calves, he reminded himself, he'd been here before.  Countless times. 

Not in this exact situation, of course.  He'd never been in any sort of wizarding tournament.  But, he'd sat in a similar room, full of other competitors, awaiting his turn at the marathon stage of an upper-level equestrian three-day-eventing competition countless times.  He knew how to prepare himself, mentally, to face the unknowns of a competition.  And, as unknown and unpredictable as the task behind those tent flaps might be, Sasha had more than enough experience succeeding - and failing miserably and painfully - in front of a crowd.  Even more so, he'd had enough hard wrecks over the years to know, fully well, that he stood more of a chance of the day ending badly - very badly - then he did of actually winning.  Though his classmates had rarely seen it here at Hogwarts, that adrenaline and determination to beat the odds had driven him through so many of those competitions. 

The methods and details were different but the risk and drive was still the same.  He could actually do this.

Armed with all of that experience, Sasha's mind had finally let go of the nerves and settled quickly into the routine of a pre-competition morning.  He'd started the day taking Baldur for a long walk while he ate one of his musli bars and an apple and had followed it with a brisk, cold shower.  After leaving Baldur in the Astronomy Tower with Professor Trishna - if his run did end badly, he knew the Astronomy Professor would take the Shepherd out until Sasha was released from the hospital hut.   After a brisk jog to warm himself up, he'd arrived at the champion's tent fifteen minutes early to finish his warm up with some stretches. 

Taryn was psyched. She would have been jumping around all energy and anticipation, but the tent wasn't tall enough for her to do that without bringing it down around them. So instead she sat in an arm chair - one of the ones in a group, not on their own - and laced her sneakers up right for whatever was to come.

'Dressed prepared for rigorous outdoor activity', the acceptance letter had said, and that's what she'd done, trading her normal slacks for black jeans and her dress shirt for a thick purple button-down, the sort that got useful around a ranch. A black stetson finished off her gear, dangling her neck, its band replaced with a Salem tri-color of purple, silver,and white.

Once her sneakers were laced she leaned back in the armchair, let her body relax, and peered around the tent at  her fellow Champions. Most of them looked scared, or at least anxious. Harcroft-of-Hogwarts paced like he wanted to wear a hole in floor, and one of the Beauxbatons boys looked outright sick. At least Sasha-of-the-unpronounceable-last-name seemed calm enough, going through his stretches. Taryn caught his eye, grinned, and gave him a thumbs-up. The only thing she'd regret about all this would be not seeing what the others' runs were like. She bet watching them would be a blast.

Finally, she caught sight of Tracy and Anderson and, when she could get their attention, waved them over. The other schools' Champions seemed to be keeping their distance from one another, locked up in their individual concerns; but Salem was a team. They'd get through this together.

"Mornin' boys," she said, summoning a drink from the table. "Yeh ready for this?"

The first to reach Taryn, Tracy greeted her with a smile that reached from ear to ear—the exact same way he’d entered the Champion’s Tent just moments before. The excitement that rolled off his fellow champion (and teammate) was palpable, a more than welcome mirror to his own. “Mornin’ t’ you too,” he grinned, taking the armchair across from her. “Girl, we were born ready.”

And from the looks of things, it was easy to believe. Dressed casually, comfortably, and practically in a pair of black jeans, a purple cotton pullover rolled up to his elbows, and his own relaxed posture radiating a calm, easy confidence, the boy even looked ready for anything. It certainly helped, too, that he had as much faith in his friends’ ability as he did in himself, which was a great deal; as strong and capable as each of them—Taryn, Vex, and himself—were on their own, there was little doubt in his mind that they were capable of even more as a team. Already he was calculating possible strategies, trying to think of the best way to utilize their personal strengths in a way that’d benefit them for something practical gear played a role in.

True, with no knowledge of the task beforehand it was impossible to plan anything concrete. But Tracy was good at open-ended thinking.

“Whatever they throw at us,” he said, still grinning as he looked from face to face, “we c’n take it. Fer Salem, yeah?”

   

It was finally the day of the challenge. Erin was there, high on adrenaline and the nerve-wracking power of having been chosen as a Hogwarts Champion. He picked restlessly at the food, mouth drawn and eyes tight as he waited. Harcroft was pacing like a madman and Schlagenweit was focusing himself or something; Erin chewed on a cheese cube and ran over spells in his head.

He was good with Defense, that much was true. It was the only class he was getting really good marks in besides Care of Magical Creatures (though this could at least partially be attributed to Erin's belief that falling asleep in Storm's class was akin to committing suicide). And he'd worked real hard on polishing up the spells he knew. After the wand weighing and Ollivander's remark about fire, he'd made sure he was very well-acquainted with his fire spells, especially that one that shot out flames all nice and destructive making him feel like he had a portable dragon or something. Maybe that hadn't been what Ollivander had exactly meant by an 'inner fire,' but Erin wasn't taking any chances. Besides, he liked that spell.

Of course, his greatest strength was flying, but that seemed unlikely to help him here. An attempt to practice summoning his broom like Harry Potter had done in one of his tasks had ended in disappointment for Erin when he discovered he couldn't even accio the thing from the Slytherin common room - out of sight, out of range he guessed - so he wasn't as optimistic now as he'd first been upon hearing the task was taking place on the Pitch. They'd checked them all over too, for cheating stuff, so he'd known better than to try and shrink his broom down to hide in his pocket.

At least he gotten good help practicing. After his name'd been drawn, he'd gone to Landis. He'd figured (with terrible logic, he later decided, but at the time he'd been desperate) that since he'd been on the wrong end of Landis' wand like a billion times the prat might as well help him now. He was practically obligated to. Things had gone non-disastrously for approximately ten minutes, during which time they'd agreed to focus on his spell-casting since if the challenge was an intellectual one Erin was pretty much doomed. But that tutoring had gone about how anyone would have expected. Even with the fate of Slytherin house resting on him – even with a common goal - they still couldn't work together. After an hour of "training" Erin'd felt like he'd gone five rounds with a manticore while Landis' hair was barely ruffled. (Damn that bastard's perfect shield charm!) Fortunately Professor Vaillancourt had been more than happy to teach him how to create a shield as well drilling him on all sorts of other spells. She was much more patient, and looking at her for a couple hours didn't make Erin want to vomit. Quite the opposite, in fact.  All in all she was a pretty good teacher, though he didn't see what she found so amusing about the whole situation.

To his right the Salem students were all grinning and buddy-buddy, projecting teamwork and optimism and sunshine out their arses. Erin eyed them all somewhat dubiously.

From the time Vex had entered the tent he had been more or less glued to the food table. For the most part they seemed to have something of everything, and the Salem senior had done his best to sample it all. Mostly he focused on the healthier side that would also give him an energy boost, but he didn't exactly discriminate against the sweets. "God damn this is good!" He exclaimed taking a rather crunchy bite out of a particularly large carrot. "Trace, you gotta try some of this!" Vex called out, waving a tomato with his other hand.

But by the time he had, Tracy had already started towards Taryn who had just arrived in as cheerful a mood as he and Tracy had been. That was good, no need to be such a downer like the rest of these guys. What was their problem? They all seemed to be sick or something. It was like they were worried they would die or something. Why that hadn't happened in fifteen years! Surely the safety regulations were better. And it wasn't like a crazy guy was going to try and murder any of them, none of them were that interesting.

"Always ready, Taryn," Vex replied happily. "And I'll follow your lead, Trace. O captain! My captain!" He said, giving him a friendly slug to the shoulder. With a grin Vex finished off the last of his carrot in one bite. Of course it seemed he had bit off more than he could chew and Vex gave a slight cough as he kept himself from choking.

Seemed they were drawing an audience by the way one of the Hogwarts kids was eying them. "Sup, Slytherin?" Vex called out, catching his eye. "Got something to say?"

She wasn't supposed to be here.[1]

Raine knew, just as well as anybody else did, that the Champion's Tent was for... well, the champions. But she also knew that she was perfectly capable of sneaking in to see them off. Three sixth years, each of them a classmate to her once, each of them on the brink of facing Merlin-knows-what sort of horrors. She was especially interested in seeing one of the champions; an investment, if nothing else.

Getting down into the quidditch pitch had required her to transform into her caracal form, a large feline of rust-like fur. She had rolled around in some dirt to subdue the striking colour of her hide before going down to where the tent had been erected. Nobody took notice. Simply another pet or creature in the peripheral of their attention, nothing of significance.

Finally, she had only to slip past the official from the Ministry of Magic, a wizard who stood at the flap entrance into the tent. The Goblet of Fire could be seen inside, past him. Raine waited until one of the other officials walking around struck up a conversation and then, quietly and deftly, she transformed into her human form. She ducked out of sight immediately, circling around the tent until she thought she was far enough from prying eyes. And then she held her wand against the material.

Raine ran it down, slicing a thin slit through which she could fit in with some difficulty. The Gryffindor paused before looking through it cautiously... some forms... Salem... and closest to her, on the ground doing stretches, a recognizable figure. She stuck her hand into the slit; and then her head, with its muddy red curls, popped through. As quickly as she could, Raine pulled herself into the tent before quickly dropping to the ground infront of the Ravenclaw prefect.

A smirk crossed her grimy face. "Hello there, Schlawkward." A fiery eyebrow went up and she folded her legs up. "Aren't you looking especially calm this morning?"

1.	Obtained permission from curator for Raine to sneak in.

Mid-stretch, Sasha noticed the friendly, encouraging gesture from Dickenson and countered it with a slight grin of his own and a nod.  The tall girl moved off towards the cluster of Salem students and Sasha's gaze shifted briefly to Dickenson's friends.  One of the Salem students - Sasha couldn't remember his name - was one of the few students making use of the snack table.  Sasha knew, right now, he had no interest in eating but that would likely change after his turn.  Adrenaline had a tendency to leave one feeling famished. 

Sasha stretched his arms up over his head and closed his eyes for a long, deep stretch - opening them only after hearing something plop right in front of him and a familiar, though unexpected voice.  He smirked, slightly, at the Gryffindor's greeting.  Perhaps he'd blame what came next on nerves.  Or, a momentary adrenaline-induced loss of sensibility.  But, before he could think better of it, Sasha muttered, under his breath: "That's Captain Schlawkward.  I forgot my blue cape with the big 'S' up in the Ravenclaw Tower."  He shrugged shyly and, inevitably, blushed.  But, in the next moment, remembered they were in the Champion's tent. 

And, Raine wasn't a Champion.  In fact, she wasn't even a Ravenclaw. 

"But, wait.  What ... what are you ... you aren't supposed to be here!" Sasha leaned towards Raine, dropping his voice to a whisper as if the volume of their voices was what they needed to keep others from noticing the intrusion.  He glanced anxiously around the tent, checking for anyone descending upon him with accusations of cheating or something.  "How did you get in?" 

"I suppose.  Better than yesterday," he admitted.  He didn't know if Raine had noticed any of his hasty retreats from classes, yesterday.  But, even if she hadn't noticed first hand, rumors had an ability to travel through Hogwarts like waves of sewer rats.  "I guess, there comes a point when you realize being nervous won't actually achieve anything.  And, you know, I've gotten through worse."  That last declaration was speculative, of course.  Not knowing what lay ahead of him, he couldn't know for sure.  But, he'd come to the conclusion it was a safe bet.

"Sup, Slytherin? Got something to say?"

Taryn rolled her head lazily in the direction of Vex's call, raised an eyebrow at the Slytherin in question - if she remembered the Weighing of the Wands right, his name was Harper or Harker or something - and gave him a grin. Maybe it'd throw him off his game.

Hogwarts kids were definitely weird. From what she'd heard of Drumstrang, she could almost understand why they didn't get along. Beauxbatons, too, was so repressed that she could see why they kept forging ahead as independents. But the only thing that kept  Hogwarts apart was the color the house-elves dyed their robes, and yet here they were, cloistered off their own little corners and giving Salem the stink-eye for going in as a team.

Paranoid nut-jobs, the lot of 'em.

She turned back to Tracy and Vex, excitement ebbing a bit under a more serious expression. "You guys heard the rules, right? One Champion runs at a time." She shook her head and dipped a large arm down over the back of the chair. Her fingers dragged through the grass until they located a stone. She fished it up, rolled it in her palm, and held it up to the circle of sunlight filtering in through the tent door.

Last weekend, they'd spent some time off in the library, researching the old Tournament events and brainstorming strategies to put their respective talents to use. Tracy'd come up with the idea of charming small objects - coins or stones, anything they could get a hold of between the tent and the Task's beginning - to act as signals, in case they needed to find each other or call for back-up but were unable to reach their wands. That point was moot now, but there was still potential in the idea. A lot of potential.

"Looks like we have to step up our game a bit. We've got an hour. That's enough time to prep a few, wouldn't you say?"

There was a short moment in which Raine was slightly surprised by Sasha's nonchalant response to her dropping in on him in the champion's tent... but then he flushed shyly before managing to express the shock she had expected, and all was right in the world again.

The Gryffindor broke into an impudent smirk and her gaze followed his to glance at their surroundings. Nobody had yet realized she had appeared here; the Americans were huddled in their own discussions and many of the other appeared to be rather absorbed within themselves. Of course. They were about to face a daunting task. She looked back at her schoolmate, voice lowering to match his hushed tone.

"It isn't very difficult to get in a guarded room if you know what the guards are looking for," Raine replied plainly. Clearly she had no intention of explaining her animagus form, at least not unless one of the officials came in. Then she wouldn't have a choice but to change. "I wondered how you were. They're taking bets in the stands, you see, and I wanted to see what my investment was doing."

Better than the gambling odds upstairs had estimated, Raine thought as she looked the boy over discerningly. The days leading up to this event had Schlagenweit displaying some rather... unchampion-like bearing. He acknowledged as much, at least. "Yes..." she trailed off to pause, frowning slightly. "I certainly hope you have been through worst." Even if she couldn't imagine what. Raine suspected he was tougher than he knew, perhaps. The Goblet had chosen Sasha after all, and she had faith in the Goblet if not yet in him.

"Either way, win or lose, there is some fun to betting on the underdog." Her eyes flickered briefly to around the tent again, knowing that the longer she stayed here the larger the risk of being caught. The gaze lingered momentarily on Harcroft and Harper. They both had entire houses behind them, rooting for them. Schlawkward? He had Ravenclaws betting against him and a House Head who looked more nervous than spirited.

Raine looked back and met the other in the eye, half-smiling. "All one can really say is good luck, I suppose. Try not to lose me a few galleons and... and stay positive." It sounded wrong, telling someone to keep their chin up. She was more accustomed to telling people to keep grounded. "Any messages I can pass along for you? It isn't wise for me to stay much longer."

Sasha arched an eyebrow at Raine's cryptic answer and glanced towards the tent flap as if expecting to find the guards - well, tournament officials really - holding some sign that would hint at what they were looking for.  But, both wizards were still standing dutifully outside.  The Ravenclaw turned back towards Raine and shrugged, not really feeling the need to worry about it too much, especially in light of everything else there was to worry about. 

"They're taking bets?"  This, actually, wasn't a surprise at all.  He'd overheard a few of the wagers.  But, so far, Raine was the first to talk to him about it.  "And, you bet on me?"  A grin twitched at the corner of his mouth and, again, his shoulders hitched up in a shrug.  "What's the wager?  Whether I'll win," which seemed fairly long odds for any of them.  There were twelve champions, after all.  They all had, at most, a one in twelve shot.  "Or, whether I'll get hauled out unconscious?" 

Either way, it seemed Raine was actually betting on him out of some irrational sense of confidence.  It seemed, at the same time, touching and foolish.  "Thank you."  Sasha was grateful - for both the wish of good luck and the vote of confidence.  He'd be lying, of course, if he said he wasn't worried about winning - it was a competition.  And, that competitive drive that made it difficult to admit twelve classes may be a bit too much made it impossible to completely believe that winning wasn't important.  But, for once, he was actually okay with just doing well and finishing. 

What kind of messages was she looking to pass along?  Did she mean something along the lines of a simple 'hi'?  Or, were these like poignant, last, parting words - just in case?  A more eloquent individual might have come up with something that was the perfect balance of casual, confident and significant but Sasha just wasn't that individual.  Instead, he just shrugged and shook his head.  "I guess, you could just find out who's bringing the butterbeer when this is all done." 

Corey had not slept well the night before the first task. He had been plagued by nightmares which had kept him up through most of the wee hours of the early morning. The thought of the strong, confident looking Beauxbatons lad being traumatized by dreams that invoked feelings of crippling solitude was almost laughable. Considering some of his competitors were hampered by desires to make family proud or to not shame the name of their beloved schools, his worries seemed entirely misplaced.

Even Corey initially thought that his being a Champion would be easier since he lacked the pressures of the aforementioned entities. But the dreams had reminded him of how alone he was and thus made him question if that void in his life was a weakness to be exploited.

Now he sat in the champions tent with his head in his hands, not really talking to anyone, and doing his best to drown out any noise around him. Not that he had to worry much about anyone talking to him. Teodosio and Séraphin were not interested in such things, never had been in their years together. Only the Salem students seemed interested in being cordial to one another. The rest seemed to be maintaining an competitive, individualized air in their preparations.

Finally pulling his face away from his hands when his name was called, Corey pulled his gloves from his jacket pocket and slipped them on. Then he retrieved his wand from another pocket and momentarily resting it between his teeth, he zipped up the jacket and nodded to the Ministry official who indicated to the entrance to the tent. With the wand obscuring his speech came a muffled,"Merci."

It was fortunate that none of the officials had walked in quite yet. They were, Raine suspected, presumably more preoccupied with intruders from the outside. The Gryffindor turned her attention back to Sasha, mirroring his grin uncharacteristically when he asked if she had bet on him.

"I bet on you," she confirmed. "I'm waging against the prediction that you will have to, as you say, be hauled out unconscious. But you don't have to thank me..." her smile faltered slightly though still in good humour. "Gambling in itself is an irrational sport. Selecting the lowest odds a is part of the game."

Butterbeer. Surely one of the Gryffies or Slythies. Certainly something right down their alley. Raine finally stood and gave the tent another glance. "Alright. I'll take my leave now," she ran a hand through her hair and shook out some caked mud from the red curls. A cleaning spell before she joined everyone in the stands later. It seemed pointless to clear herself now if she was only going to have to transform again when leaving the area. Fortunately, withdrawing from the champions' quarter was likely to be much easier than infiltrating it.

"Another wager. If you manage not to lose me a few galleons, I'll tell you how I got in." Raine smiled fleetingly and then turned to the slit she had made in the tent, sticking one gangly leg through it before looking back at Schlagenweit. "Not that you need to hear this but be careful," she reminded him with a more typical, reprimanding frown.

And then, as quickly as she had entered before, the prefect pulled herself out through the incision; pausing outside only to close it up. Sneaking around was not the wisest of decisions but she was at least wise enough to know better than to leave traces of her little expedition.