"The Champion for Durmstrang is…Viktor Krum!"
Harry applauded politely, smiling at the way Ron was whooping and hollering into his ear. Harry knew who Krum was, of course, even though he hadn't attended the World Cup. Pictures of Krum's spectacular Snitch catch had been on the front page of the Daily Prophet for almost a week.
And the boy who stood up and walked through the cheering and clapping to a small antechamber on the far side of the Great Hall looked as if he would do well in a contest like the Tournament. He was strong and solid and had a slight scowl on his face. He looked studious, Harry thought.
And even if some people did say that the only magic studied at Durmstrang was the Dark Arts, well, maybe that was what you needed to survive in a situation like the Tournament.
"The Champion for Beauxbatons is…Fleur Delacour!"
The Veela girl who had been attracting some people's attention since she arrived yesterday glided from the Ravenclaw table to the antechamber. She was getting lots of cheers, too, Harry noted, although Ron only sighed wistfully after her. Hermione sniffed.
"Some people should pay more attention to things other than looks," she said, and picked up her book again. But even she put it down again when the Goblet flared and spat out another name.
"The Champion for Hogwarts is…Cedric Diggory!"
Harry applauded a little harder than he had for Krum. He did actually know Diggory, and the bloke was pretty fair, both as a Seeker and as a prefect (he hadn't done more than take a couple of points when he caught Harry coming back from visiting Draco after curfew one time last year). Hufflepuff, of course, was going mad. Diggory stood up, smiled around the Great Hall, and walked towards the same small room the other Champions had entered.
"I am pleased that all of the schools have found their Champions, and would like to thank you for your attention." Dumbledore folded his hands and smiled out at the room much like Diggory had done. "If Headmaster Karkaroff and Madame Maxime will join me in the antechamber where the Champions have gone, we will explain—"
The Goblet abruptly ignited again. Dumbledore blinked and fell silent. Harry stared at it, and wondered if it was his imagination that his scar gave a little twinge.
Another name was spat out of the flames. Dumbledore caught the piece of paper and stared at it for a long moment before he unfolded it.
And although he knew what Father would say, Harry was sure that Dumbledore's face had gone utterly slack with shock and surprise, and not that he was planning something, when he read the name and looked up.
"Harry Potter."
Harry folded his arms and glared at Dumbledore. Draco stood up at the Slytherin table. Hermione and Ron, still sitting beside him, both gasped.
"Harry Potter," Dumbledore repeated, and already he seemed to be over his surprise. He waved the slip of parchment. "You are a Champion, as chosen by the Goblet of Fire. Please join the other Champions in the room I have already indicated."
"Harry Potter isn't my name," Harry said, loud enough to silence some of the murmurs that were starting up in the Great Hall. "It's Henry Malfoy."
"You were chosen as a Champion by the Goblet of Fire, Harry."
"Don't call my brother that!" Harry turned to the Slytherin table at Draco's indignant yell and saw that his twin was pointing his wand at Dumbledore "He's told you he doesn't want to be called that!"
"Nevertheless," Dumbledore said, regaining confidence by the moment, "his name has been chosen."
"His old name. That means it isn't really him!"
"I didn't put my name in!" Harry yelled, standing up in turn.
"You are a Champion nevertheless," Dumbledore said, and leveled a look at Harry over the rims of his glasses. "If there is some irregularity here, we can sort it out later. For now, join the other Champions."
Harry shook his head and sat back down. Hermione gasped again and started tugging on his arm. "Harry, you're going to get in so much trouble!" she hissed at him.
"I don't care," Harry said, loudly enough that he knew the people leaning in from other tables and trying to eavesdrop would be able to do so easily. "I didn't put my name in. And I'm not really Harry Potter, so obviously this is some prank."
A loud thump sounded from the far end of the professors' table, and Harry turned. Professor Moody was standing there, bracing his wooden leg on the floor, while his magical eye zoomed around his face.
"There's some treachery here, right enough," he said loudly. "For now, lad, do as Headmaster Dumbledore says."
"You're not even one of my professors!" Harry called back. "No."
"Dumbly-door, what is going on?"
That was Madame Maxime, standing in the doorway of the small room. Delacour peered out around her, and Harry thought he could see a glimpse of Diggory's face, too.
"There seems to be a slight problem with the choosing process," Dumbledore said, and smiled at her, then down the Gryffindor table at Harry. "The Goblet spat out a fourth name. Harry Potter, as it happens."
"How is it fair for Hogwarts to have two Champions?" one of the Durmstrang students still sitting at the Slytherin table muttered.
"I'm not the Hogwarts Champion! Diggory is!"
"Shut up about my brother," Draco snapped, and turned to aim his wand at the Durmstrang student.
"I wish you would just do what Professor Dumbledore says," Hermione whispered.
....
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