~Chapter 6- Arrival of the Rivals~

Do a back flip. Just do it. It's not that difficult. A peculiar voice I'd never heard before was speaking to me. Do it! It will be easy!

I was about to spring. I crouched down, collecting strength in my legs. I would jump and flip, with everyone watching me, and land lightly on my feet again. Or would I?

Do it now!

Why? I asked myself. Why do a back flip in front of this crowded classroom with everyone watching, possibly only to humiliate myself and maybe break a few bones? I had never been flexible enough to flip backwards before, and I knew if I tried, I was sure to land hard and become injured. Did I really want to feel that pain? No, I certainly didn't.

Flip!

No! I screamed the word in my head. I suddenly felt no urge to spring into the air at all. "No!" I said out loud.

The sensation that had gripped me moments before was lifted. I was facing my classmates in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, now clearly focused on my surroundings. Mad-Eye Moody was behind his desk; I was in front of it. I glanced at him cautiously and was surprised to see a twisted smile on his face.

"Nice job, Miss Tonks." He looked at me proudly-too proudly in my opinion. I returned to my seat.

"You see?" the professor went on. "That's how you fight the Imperius Curse. It takes true talent and strength to do that."

I blushed hotly. It hadn't been that difficult; yet so far I was the only person in the class besides Harry Potter that had managed to overcome the struggle of the controlling Dark magic.

"Miss Tonks, where did you find the strength to fight off the curse?"

"Um ... " I stammered. I wasn't expecting interrogation. "I just didn't see any purpose to back flip."

A few chuckles sounded across the room. I blushed harder.

"That's exactly right," Moody growled. "You'll laugh now, but when someone is in total control of you while Miss Tonks is able to fight it off, you won't be laughing. Class dismissed."

I felt a smidge of pride; normally I wasn't recognized for being the best at anything in school. But on top of that, something else troubled me - was Moody's practice even legal? He had to have received Dumbledore's permission to cast illegal, Unforgivable curses on us. And after all, fighting it was good practice.

I couldn't convince myself. There was something I wasn't catching onto, and whatever that happened to be was something I desperately wanted to find out.

Besides the Imperius Curse practice in D.A.D.A., everything else was normal. The school year had definitely begun.

A sign had been posted in the entrance hall announcing that the delegations from the schools Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would be arriving at six-o-clock on October thirtieth. Lessons would end half an hour early-and thankfully I would be getting out of Potions.

And after that, all anyone talked about was the tournament: who was going to enter, how younger students (the Weasley twins, for instance) would try to hoodwink the judge, and how the students from the other schools would be arriving.

On the evening of arrival, the Heads of Houses were situating their students in a line outside the castle. Everyone speculated about how they would be arriving: brooms, Portkeys, Apparition ... when suddenly a giant flying object came into view. As it approached, we realized it was a huge carriage: pale blue and pulled by several giant palomino horses.

The carriage landed and a boy wearing pale blue robes came out and unfolded some golden steps. Then a woman - the largest woman I'd ever seen, just about as big as Hagrid - stepped out.

Everybody clapped as the woman approached Professor Dumbledore. He kissed her hand and she motioned to her students outside the carriage. There were about twelve of them, all in their late teens, shivering in the cold because of their thin, pale blue satin robes.

Madame Maxime, the woman, Headmistress of Beauxbatons, summoned her students into the castle to warm up. We watched them parade in as we heard a new sound. Turning to the lake, we realized a whirlpool had formed there, and a boat was emerging from it.

Minutes later, several students were approaching us from the lake and a man called Dumbledore's name. He had to be their headmaster, Igor Karkaroff.

He shook hands with Dumbledore and gazed at the castle, smiling slightly. After exchanging words, he motioned to one of his students, who came forward. Several students gasped, and I realized who it was: Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker! I thought of Dora. She would nearly die if she found out Krum was at Hogwarts. She wasn't the only one: many girls around me were going fanatically mad over him.

We all went back to the Great Hall for the feast. The Durmstrang students sat at the Slytherin table, while the miserable-looking Beauxbatons students joined the Ravenclaw table. Across from me at the Gryffindor table, Ron was going on about Krum while Hermione was snorting in disgust (I had to agree with her on that, mostly because the sight of the Seeker made me think of Lavender and Parvati's zealous - in other words, irritating to the extreme - giggling over him).

Filch the caretaker was bringing more chairs into the Hall. He put four extras at the staff table. Dumbledore, Madame Maxime, and Karkaroff all took their seats. There were still two empty chairs at the table. Dumbledore stood up to kindly welcome the guests.

One of the Beauxbatons girls at the Ravenclaw table laughed. I noticed the girl had long silvery-blonde hair and had a familiar-looking air to her. She was stunningly gorgeous, and I wasn't surprised to see several Ravenclaw boys gaping at her like petrified Cornish pixies.

Dumbledore finished speaking and the food appeared on the tables. Many of the dishes were foreign. I helped myself to my favorites as well as a few of the new foods, but only if I could identify the ingredients they contained. Trying new things was something I really wasn't accustomed to.

I looked back at the silvery-blonde girl, now waltzing back to the Ravenclaw table after retrieving the bouillabaisse from our place at the Gryffindor. I struggled to remember where I'd seen anything remotely like her. She certainly looked a lot like the veela we'd seen at the World Cup, only more human. Maybe she wasn't a total veela.

I continued to eat. I was enjoying the feast so much - and was so hungry - that I barely saw two new people arrive. They sat at the staff table in the extra seats Filch had brought in. I recognized them from the World Cup: Ludo Bagman with his round, cheery face, and Barty Crouch with his austere demeanor. I shot him a quick glare. I hadn't forgiven him for his accusation in the woods when the Dark Mark had been seen, even if his accusation had been correct. Still, he could have blown my secret.

"What was that?" Hermione said. I noticed she was looking at me.

"What?" I asked, surprised.

"What was that look you just shot Barty Crouch?"

"That - um ... " My throat had gone dry. "I - er - met him at the World Cup and he didn't seem very friendly."

"Oh, well I agree with you! I can't believe he accused his poor elf at the World Cup!"

I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

After dessert, Dumbledore introduced Bagman and Crouch, saying that they would be judges in the tournament. Then he said something about bringing in a casket, so Filch brought in an extremely old, jewel-encrusted chest. Dumbledore said the Goblet of Fire would be choosing the champions, which was exactly what was in that chest: after Dumbledore tapped it three times with his wand, the chest opened to reveal a wooden goblet full of blue-white flames. I stared at it in awe, mesmerized by the illuminating fire.

I almost missed Dumbledore's next announcement about how the Goblet of Fire worked. Anyone old enough - as there would be an age line - would submit their name in to the Goblet, which would choose the champions the following night, Halloween night.

I left the Hall drowsily. I wanted to get out my Messaging Journal to talk to Dora before I went to bed, so I hurried to the dormitories.

I grabbed the pink journal and wrote to see if Dora was there. After a few minutes, she wrote a response.

I thought I'd hear from you tonight.

Yes. The students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrived.

What about Bagman and Crouch?

They came too. They're judging.

I know. You're lucky. I want to see the tournament, but I'm busy at work.

How's work going?

So-so. I've been so busy with paperwork, but I really want to get out and actually do some real Auror work! How's school?

Busy as well.

Of course. Well, do you know anyone who's entering the tournament?

Not yet. The Weasley twins want to, but they're too young.

There's a reason they can't enter. These tasks are going to be difficult.

I'm sure they are. Well, I'll talk to you later. I need to sleep.

Okay. Bye.

I closed the journal and put it away before going to bed. The next day was going to be interesting: the champions would be chosen, and I wanted to see who they were.

Many Gryffindors celebrated that night, but I didn't. I went to my dormitory and opened my journal, wanting to tell Dora everything that had happened, because Harry Potter had been crowned as the second Hogwarts Champion, despite being only fourteen. His name had been spewed from the Goblet of Fire like every other, even after Cedric Diggory had been recognized to represent Hogwarts.

At first, I felt frustrated and couldn't help but think, of course; he had to get his fame as usual. Everything always happens to Harry Potter. But then I realized that something else could have occurred, so I wanted to spill to Dora.

I asked if she was there, then waited, and when she got my response, she wrote:

So, how did it go? Who are the champions?

Viktor Krum from Durmstrang - no surprise.

Krum? He's there? Wow, Krum's at Hogwarts? I can't believe it! He's going to win the tournament for sure! Oh, but wait, who are the Hogwarts champions? I'm still going to support Hogwarts. Well, maybe. It depends on who it is. Whose name came from the Goblet?

Hold your hippogriffs, Dora! The Beauxbatons champion is Fleur Delacour, this veela-looking girl.

The image of the flawless female entered my head. She was the one who had made nearly every boy in the hall fall into a dreamy trance, but something told me she wasn't champion material.

And Hogwarts?

Dora was obviously growing impatient. I thought about deliberately driving her mad by not telling her, but I didn't want to be cruel ...

Cedric Diggory. You'll be happy - he's a Hufflepuff.

Is he better looking than Krum?

Aren't there more important things than looks? Honestly, Dora, I thought the fact that he was a Hufflepuff would please you.

It does. Hufflepuff could use some glory. Being overshadowed by Gryffindor and Slytherin all the time never made any of us happy. They always won the Quidditch and House Cups. And then there was Ravenclaw, the smart bunch. You know how it is for Hufflepuffs.

Not really, but it that's how you feel, you won't like this part: Harry Potter's also a champion.

She didn't reply for several minutes, probably trying to take in what I'd said. Finally:

Harry Potter? What are you talking about?

His name came out of the Goblet. I'm not lying. Even though he's underage, they're still going to let him compete.

I can't believe it! He's too young; the tasks are too dangerous for him!

Yeah, well ... it's not exactly surprising, is it?

What do you mean?

Everything happens to Harry Potter. First year: he saved the Sorcerer's Stone. Second year: he rescued Arthur Weasley's daughter from the Chamber of Secrets. Third year: He fought off Sirius Black and a hundred dementors. This is what he gets his fourth year.

This is strange. I'm sure the Ministry will discuss this tomorrow. If there are Dark wizards involved-for example, if someone put his name into the Goblet-the Auror office will be on it.

Possibly. He claimed he didn't put it in himself.

That's strange. Well, goodnight.

Goodnight. Wait, Dora! Are you still there?

Yes, I'm here.

Dora, what if the Dark Arts really are involved? Does that mean there could be a Dark wizard at Hogwarts?

The quill trembled slightly in my fingers. I wondered if this could be related to the uneasy chill I got these days that I'd never felt prior to this school year. When I blinked, Mad-Eye Moody's icy blue eye flashed into my head.

Maybe there's not necessarily a Dark wizard at Hogwarts. There could be a Dark witch for all you know.

This is no time for jokes. Since you're not helping, I'm going to close this. Goodnight, Dora.

I snapped the pink journal shut and shoved it into my nightstand drawer, tossing the quill in after it. Auror or not, Dora wasn't assuaging my apprehension.

Was there a chance, however miniscule, that Harry Potter was meant to be the fourth Hogwarts champion? Was there a chance that he had actually put his name into the Goblet and was worthy for this competition?

Or was there a chance that someone else was behind this, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to surface?