The Fallen Angels

Dinner finished up and the food disappeared again. Dumbledore stood after some men brought in a gold tower. "Your attention, please!" he called to us. "I'd like to say a few words. Eternal glory. That is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament. But to do this, that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks. For this reason, the Ministry has seen fit to impose a new rule." From the corner of the room, a door opened and standing in the doorway was a man with a magical eye and a fake leg. He leaned against his long walking stick, looking at Dumbledore. "To explain all this we have the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Mr. Bartemius Crouch."

A loud thunder clap came from the outside and in. The ceiling began to produce pouring rain on us, but only for a moment. The man in the doorway pulled out his wand and changed the ceiling back. Everyone turned to him as he limped his way down to Dumbledore.

"Bloody hell. It's Mad-Eye Moody," Ron hissed.

"Alastor Moody? The Auror?" asked Hermione.

"Auror?" asked one of the kids down the table.

"Dark-wizard catcher. Half the cells in Azkaban are filled because of him," replied Ron. "He's suppose to be mad as a hatter, though, these days."

"My dear old friend," Dumbledore greeted him, "Thanks for coming." He shook Moody's hand.

"Stupid ceiling," Moody chuckled.

Dumbledore nodded, "Thank you."

Moody then retreated back towards the wall and pulled out a small flask.

"What's that he's drinkin' do you suppose?" asked and Irish boy seated on the other side of Hermione.

"I don't know, but I don't think it's pumpkin juice," said Harry.

"Maybe it's to help him keep his madness under control," I smirked. And the three smiled back at me.

Mr. Crouch then stepped to the front, head down as he spoke, "After due consideration, the Ministry has concluded that, for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to put forth their name for the Triwizard Tournament." Boo's and arguments erupted in the hall. "This decision is final."

Dumbledore took hold of the commotion, "Silence!" He then raised his wand and melted away the tower of gold to reveal an old wooden goblet, that erupted with blue fire, "The Goblet of Fire. Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the Tournament need only write their name on a piece of parchment and throw it into the flame before this hour on Thursday night. Do not so lightly. If chosen, there's no turning back. As of this moment, the Triwizard Tournament has begun." He pauses. "You're dismissed. Off to bed now. And goodnight."

I looked at Hermione as we all stood to leave, "Sounds exciting but I'd never enter."

"Me neither," Hermione agreed. "But you know Harry and Ron would."

I looked over at the boys who were smiling and chatting away. "How can you stand knowing you could be in danger when you're off on your adventures? I mean how can you watch when you know you're friends are in danger? Like how these tasks are going to be."

"I don't. I help my friends as much as I can."

I looked at Ron and Hermione. "What would you do if they were in the tournament?"

Hermione frowned. "Yell at them for ever entering. But then I'd do as much as I could to help. Don't you agree?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Sounds about right."