Not long after the Halloween feast finally began, Hagrid was somehow the center of attention. More than one girl at times would pause to stare at him, before blushing. Hagrid was going to very, very popular with the girls after this. It ought to be interesting, to say the least.
In honor of having Beauxbatons and Durmstrang with them, the house elves had prepared a delicious array of food belonging to those regions. From France, there is Ratatouille, Quiche, Gratin Dauphinious, Duck Confit, Souffle, and other traditional dishes. From Italy, there is Risotto, Arancini, Carbonara, Pizza, Bistecca alla Fiorentina, and many more dishes. From Germany, there is Sauerbraten, Rouladen, Schnitzel, Ksesptzle, and countless other dishes.
Rowan m.o.a.ned in delight at the delicious tastes and managed to eat three entire plates of food. Still she licked her spoon as her eyes all but glowed at spotting all the wonderful desserts that followed. There was Crme Brule, Tarte Tatin, Pain au Chocolat, Gelato, Tiramisu, Black Forest Gateau, and countless more dishes. Letting out a sigh of joy, she somehow against impossible odds managed to eat two more dishes of desserts filled to the brim.
Bethanie, Tiffany, and Silvia were all a little green at seeing, Rowan, Severus, and Terry, somehow each manage to eat more than three dishes per person. In fact, they couldn't help but wonder where in Merlin's name it all fit! This was especially true upon seeing just how slender Rowan and Severus were and especially how delicate Terry looked.
While the three Slytherins enjoyed dinner most of the students seemed rather impatient for the meal to end. Everyone seemed to crane their necks and fidget just waiting for Dumbledore to finish eating. At last, the golden plates were cleared as the whispers died away instantly.
Rising to his feet Dumbledore arose while Professor Vulchanova and Madam Maxime looked tense and expectant as any of the students. On either side of them, Dano Amundsen beamed and winked them in good nature, while Stephen Flint remained rather sober for the event.
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions names are called, I would ask them to please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and through into the next chamber," he indicated the door behind the staff table "where they will be receiving their first instructions."
Dumbledore took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, all the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparling, bright, blue whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes.
Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as they watched and waited. The seconds seemed to be minutes as more than one student kept glancing at their watches for the time. Even Rowan was no exception as she was just as curious as everyone else to find out who would be the champions.
The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. The next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it as the whole room gasped. Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.
"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Igor Karkaroff."
A polite applause fills the Hall as those from Durmstrang cheer for him, while there is a loud chorus of snickers and smirks on the Slytherin faces especially that of Delilah Pizarro. Professor Vulchanova didn't seem rather pleased, but nevertheless he politely clapped along. Igor Karkaroff rises from the end of the Slytherin table and proudly marched past the staff table and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.
The clapping and chattering died down as everyone's attention returned the goblet. A second later, red flames burst once more as the second piece of parchment shout out of it, propelled by the flames.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Jean Delacour!"
Delacour? Rowan intently stared at the short young man with dark-colored hair. Sure, enough she could see the tip of high-heeled boots from underneath his blue robes. Jolly, kind features growing a small pointed beard, this was indeed the future father of Fleur Delacour.
But how on earth did he score a ten? Glancing over at the beauty that was Apolline, she had no idea how Jean Delacour won the fair maiden's heart. But then again, he apparently had a deep voice. Maybe his voice was rather s.e.xy to listen too? Still, that shouldn't have been enough to change the winds of fate in his favor...Of course, he might also have an absurd amount of luck. He'd probably been a Gryffindor had he attended Hogwarts. Then again, Hufflepuff's should never be underestimated..they were loyal and determined.
This time the silence was so stiff with excitement that it could be tasted. The Hogwarts champion was next At last, the Goblet of Fire sprouted red as a tongue of flame high into the air. Dumbledore pulled out the third piece of parchment. "The Hogwarts champion," he paused for a moment as if in disbelief, "is Rowan Prince."
Rowan begins to loudly choke as the entire is silent as they all turn to stare blankly at her. Suddenly, the food in her stomach begins to rapidly rise and made her regret eating so much for dinner. Hearing a gasp at her side, she turns to glance at Terry and Severus, who look exceptionally guilty. A frosty air begins to surround her as she gives them a look good enough to kill. There is no applause, but rather an angry buzzing sounds like angry bees.
"What exactly did the both of you do?!" Rowan hissed through clenched teeth.
Before either of them can answer, Dumbledore says, "Rowan Prince. Up here if you please."
Climbing to her feet, Rowan shoots them a final glare promising their imminent demise in the nearby future, which of course she'd get away with. Stomping in fury, she marched past them the staff table and into the smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite of her. The faces in the portraits turned to look at her and began to whisper to each other.
Igor Karkaroff instantly recognized her as the Slytherin girl who'd made him most uncomfortable with her staring. While Jean Delacour knew her from the tabloids "Are you not Rowan Prince? You should be fourteen years old. 'ow could you 'ave been chosen az the Hogwarts champion?" Igor Kararoff blinks finally in recognition of who exactly she reminded him of.
"I fear my brother and his friend had something to do with it," Rowan angrily spat as she resisted the urge to chuck something to burn into the fireplace. The silence is rather awkward as Rowan visibly fumed while they waited for the professors and the two other judges. Both boys carefully kept a clear distance away from her the younger girl as she looked as though she was about to explode at any moment.