Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

0518 Feast

The Halloween feast had always been a highlight at Hogwarts. The ancient stone walls of the castle had witnessed countless such celebrations, but none quite as anticipated as this particular evening. You'd be hard-pressed to find any feast more lavish or grand than the Halloween banquet during your entire magical education at Hogwarts, and this year, the impending announcement of the Triwizard Tournament Champions added an electric undercurrent of excitement to the already spectacular event.

The feast was officially scheduled to commence at six o'clock, but the enthusiasm of the young witches and wizards couldn't be contained. Students began trickling down to the Great Hall as early as four in the afternoon. Some particularly eager ones had even stationed themselves in the entrance hall since dawn, their eyes never leaving the Goblet of Fire's mesmerizing blue flames, hoping to catch a glimpse of those who might have submitted their names.

As the clock struck half-past five, the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall perfectly mirrored the outside sky as it transformed into an inky expanse of darkness, scattered with twinkling stars. It was at this moment that Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way into the Great Hall together, their school robes slightly disheveled from what had proven to be an extraordinarily eventful day.

The trio had originally planned to spend their entire Saturday at Hagrid's cozy hut, secretly hoping to coax out some information about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament tasks from him. However, their plans had been dramatically derailed by the morning's unfortunate incident involving the Beauxbatons girl, which had set in motion a chain of unexpected events that kept them occupied throughout the day.

They were thrust into the role of impromptu tour guides, accompanying a flustered Hagrid as he attempted to show the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students around the Hogwarts castle.

Hagrid was visibly distracted and anxious about Fleur's injury, leaving the three of them to essentially conduct the tour themselves. Without Professor Watson's natural charm and eloquence, they had desperately wracked their brains to showcase the castle's most impressive features. In a stroke of inspiration, they had even managed to convince the usually protective Professor Sprout to unlock the greenhouses where countless magical plants were cultivated under her careful supervision.

Despite their enthusiastic efforts, the visiting students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons remained largely unimpressed by the Hogwarts' Tour. Throughout the tour, a steady stream of complaints and barely concealed mockery continued, with many of the foreign students abandoning the tour halfway through.

The constant criticism had grated on Hermione's nerves in particular, leading to several heated exchanges with a group of particularly critical Beauxbatons witches.

Viktor Krum, however, had been a surprising bright spot in their challenging day. Despite his visible illness, he preserved until the very end of the tour. Ron even managed to get his long-desired autograph, though he'd nearly fainted from excitement in the process.

In the afternoon, Hagrid had tried to thank them for their help with an enormous pot of beef stew. However, Hagrid's distracted state had led to some rather unfortunate culinary mishaps.

The moment of truth came when Hermione, spooning through her portion, discovered a large claw lurking beneath the surface of her stew. The discovery effectively destroyed the appetite of all three of them, though they made valiant attempts to appear grateful, pushing the mysterious meat around each others bowls while exchanging worried glances, trying to avoid Hagrid's questioning look.

In the afternoon, Hermione decided to teach Fréodom wizard chess to broaden its horizon beyond just housework. Her intention was also to help the house-elf develop some recreational skills. However, the attempt was more traumatic than therapeutic.

Each time Fréodom lost a game – which happened with alarming regularity – she would leap up from her tiny stool as if struck by lightning, her tennis ball-sized eyes filling with tears. These episodes would consistently end with the distressed house-elf wailing apologies to Hermione before attempting to punish herself by ramming her head into Hagrid's roaring fireplace, sending clouds of soot and sparks flying across the room.

After the third such incident, which had required both Harry and Ron to physically restrain the distressed elf, Ron had thrown up his hands in exasperation. "If you ask me, Hermione, it's just not cut out for this. Even Neville's better at it—" he had said with a resigned shrug after another inevitable victory, his words earning him a withering glare from Hermione.

Meanwhile, Harry had tried in consoling Hagrid, who sat in his massive armchair looking utterly dejected. Harry tried repeatedly to convince him that Professor Watson would handle the morning's incident, and that the Ministry wouldn't seriously consider executing the Blast-Ended Skrewts over this unfortunate event (though Harry privately thought that wouldn't be such a bad thing). But his words of comfort seemed to bounce off Hagrid like spells off a dragon's hide. Hagrid was still gloomy and Finally, even Harry's patience began to wear thin.

"Then go apologize, Hagrid!" Harry exclaimed with an exasperated sigh. "I think if the Beauxbatons Headmistress forgives you, the Ministry won't have any reason to be overzealous and kill the Skrewts—"

To Harry's surprise and relief, this suggestion was like a jolt of electricity on Hagrid.

"Oh, that's a brilliant idea!" Hagrid who had been dejected all day immediately perked up. His entire massive body seemed to inflate with renewed hope. What followed was a whirlwind of activity that left the trio slightly dazed. They watched in amazement as Hagrid transformed himself, washing his wild hair with a peculiar perfume that smelled more like industrial-strength insect repellent than anything remotely sweet-smelling.

The giant man then eagerly departed for the Beauxbatons carriage, leaving the three teenagers alone in his hut, surrounded by the overwhelming scent of his cologne.

Few minutes later, as they finally made their way toward the Great Hall for the feast, Ron's nose was still wrinkled from the lingering memory of that smell.

"Is Hagrid hoping to knock out the Beauxbatons Headmistress with that odor and then get her forgiveness?" He said, his freckled face contorted in a grimace as they reached the last step of the entrance hall.

"If you ask me, he shouldn't worry about the Ministry killing those Skrewts at all. I bet they couldn't find a way to crack their shells if they tried. Of course, if the Beauxbatons Headmistress decided to do it herself, that'd be a different story. She'd just need to take a stroll through Hagrid's pumpkin patch, and not a single Skrewt would survive. You know what I mean?"

"Don't be silly, Ron—" Hermione giggled, her mood lightening slightly at Ron's joke after what had been an overwhelmingly frustrating day. Her brown eyes sparkled with knowing amusement as she added, "Hagrid didn't go to see Madame Maxime to apologize. Didn't you notice his suit and hairstyle? He's been planning to ask her out—"

As they entered the entrance hall, the sight before them momentarily stopped their conversation. The Goblet of Fire, which had stood in the hall for the past day, had been relocated to a position directly in front of Professor Dumbledore's chair.

The Great Hall itself was a breathtaking sight, illuminated by thousands of floating candles that cast a warm, golden glow over everything below. The enchanted ceiling perfectly mirrored the night sky outside, scattered with twinkling stars that seemed to dance among the floating candles.

The usual house banners had been supplemented with additional decorations for the occasion - intricate jack-o'-lanterns grinned from every corner, their carved faces flickering with light, while enchanted bats fluttered silently near the ceiling, adding a touch of spooky ambiance to the surroundings.

The hall was already packed to bursting with students from all three schools, their excited chatter creating a constant buzz of anticipation that filled the vast space. Hermione, displaying her usual quick thinking, grabbed both Harry and Ron by their sleeves and deftly maneuvered them through the crowd to find seats.

Upon settling at the Gryffindor table, they noticed that Fred and George Weasley's chins were now perfectly smooth, having finally recovered from their failed attempt to fool the Age Line. Hermione couldn't resist raising an eyebrow and saying with a knowing smirk, "I suppose you've learned your lesson now, haven't you?"

"Oh! I believe true champions are those who challenge the rules, Miss Nosy Know-It-All!" Fred replied, his tone resentful but his eyes twinkling with their usual mischief.

Harry's attention was drawn to the staff table, where he noticed an additional figure among the usual faces. Besides Ludo Bagman, whose enthusiasm seemed unchanged from yesterday's opening ceremony, there sat Barty Crouch, whom they had last seen during the chaotic aftermath of the Quidditch World Cup final that summer.

However, Crouch looked noticeably different now – his face was haggard and sickly, and he looked particularly listless.

"I think he should realize that without Winky's help, he can't manage life on his own," Hermione said with unusual harshness, her eyes fixed on Crouch's hunched body. "He should feel remorse for his actions and ask for Winky's forgiveness!"

Harry and Ron exchanged a knowing glance, both recognizing that Hermione's view was entirely wishful thinking. The reality was that Barty Crouch, as the prestigious Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, would never lower himself to apologize to a house-elf. If he wanted, he could easily buy a hundred house-elves to manage his daily affairs.

"Wonder who'll be the Hogwarts champion—" Harry skillfully redirected the conversation, knowing from experience that any discussion involving house-elves with Hermione was bound to become a passionate crusade for elf rights.

Fred, ever ready to join a conversation, especially one that steered away from their failed attempt to enter the tournament, jumped in immediately. "Hope it's Angelina,"

Angelina Johnson was the only Gryffindor upperclassman they knew for certain had submitted her name to the Goblet of Fire, though others should also have entered their names privately.

"Me too!" Hermione, successfully distracted from her house-elf advocacy, waved enthusiastically at Angelina who was sitting a few seats away, with her fists clenched and her dark skin looking pale with nervousness. "Good luck, Angelina! Hope you become the Hogwarts champion!"

The friendship between Hermione and Angelina had blossomed ever since their discussion about 'love' with Professor Watson in the library.

"Oh, thanks!" Angelina turned to Hermione, flashing a nervous smile.

The Halloween feast seemed to stretch on endlessly, each minute feeling longer than the last. Perhaps because it was their sumptuous feast in two consecutive days, the students appeared less impressed by the usual array of magnificent dishes that appeared before them.

Throughout the vast hall, students constantly craned their necks, looking around impatiently. Every face showed signs of rising anxiety, from the first-years who wouldn't be affected by the selection to the potential champions who sat rigid with anticipation.

"Who do you think will come to announce the results?" Neville suddenly asked this question, his round face flushed with excitement. His words sparked an immediate and intense discussion among those within the hearing range.

Ron, never one to miss an opportunity to voice his opinion, jumped in immediately. "Professor Dumbledore or Professor Watson, it's got to be one of them—" he said, his words slightly muffled as he simultaneously attempted to stuff an entire treacle tart into his mouth. Hermione shot him a disapproving look, but Ron seemed oblivious, too focused on his dessert and the conversation at hand.

The discussion about this question helped to pass some of the unbearable waiting time. Theories flew back and forth - some suggested it might be Ludo Bagman, given his position in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, while others argued that as the host school, it should be a Hogwarts professor. A few even jokingly suggested that the Goblet itself might sprout a mouth and announce the champions.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the golden plates magically returned to their original spotless state, gleaming in the candlelight as if they had never been used. The noise in the Great Hall suddenly swelled with anticipation, then just as quickly died down as Professor Watson rose to his feet.

"Oh," Hermione sighed, unable to completely hide her disappointment. In the earlier discussion prompted by Neville's question, she had firmly supported Professor Dumbledore, believing that as Hogwarts' Headmaster, he should be the one to preside over such a momentous occasion.

The Great Hall fell into an immediate and complete silence. Hundreds of eyes from the lower part of the hall focused intently on Professor Watson's tall figure, while at the staff table, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime appeared just as tense and expectant as everyone else.

Ludo Bagman, in stark contrast, wore his characteristic broad smile, periodically winking at students from various schools as if they were all sharing some wonderful joke while Crouch looked utterly bored, as if he couldn't wait to leave.

"Ladies and gentlemen—" Bryan's voice carried clearly through the hushed hall as he elegantly walked around Professor Snape's chair to position himself in the space between the staff table and the student tables, coming to stop beside the small table where the Goblet of Fire continued its dance of blue-white flames. He smiled at everyone and continued, "The agonizing, everlasting feast has come to an end. Now, it's time to reveal the answers for you, and for myself as well!"

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