The Goblet of Fire Open

Yefim's entrance into the Great Hall would not be unnoticed, nor would it be welcome. He had made a name for himself in the halls of Hogwarts, to those unlucky enough to find themselves in the path of his destruction. He and his gang of misfits had made themselves intentional antagonists to Hogwarts for one reason alone-- to seek justice.

Years ago now, Hogwarts and Durmstrang had faced off in an international Quidditch final, one that Durmstrang obviously deserved to win. They trained harder, they worked better, and they were built to succeed. Hogwarts had cheated, and there was no way around that. They had intentionally brought non-humans and mudbloods into their ranks to gain an unprecedented advantage over the pure humans playing in Durmstrang's ranks. What did he get for calling out this injustice? A broken leg, a punch in the face.

Now that he was older, stronger, and smarter, he had reveled in the reveal of the old cup, along with the competition involved. Of course he wanted to set the record straight, of course he wanted to have a legal excuse to pummel the Hogsnots into paste. They didn't only deserve his wrath, they deserved utter annihilation. His mind was as clear as a cloudless day as he envisioned the pain and suffering he planned to put them all through. Joyous revenge was on the horizon, and at dawn a new world would be born.

Smirking mirthfully at anyone who felt brave enough to boo him, he'd strut like a man on his wedding day. Their hatred was proof that he was right, that they were mindless scum who mocked the just and the godly. They jeered because they wanted to be him, and he knew what their faces would look like when they had nowhere else to run. They would beg, or they would plead, but it was already too late. They had been judged, and found wanting.

Stopping at the goblet and turning to face the crowd, he'd look around at the pathetic excuse for competition. They could kick and scream all they wanted, they could huff and pout and whine. He was better than them, and soon, he would have a prize that proved it. With that sweet song in his heart, he dropped the paper in.


Suck eggs, losers. The winner of the Hexwizard Tournament has arrived.

Banner by: Liana Kerr

Great Hall, 20th March 2022. In the morning.
Mentioning @Faye Simmons
Colour code - #831100
Outfit: Gryffindor uniform, with her family's crest clipped on the lapels of her outer robes.

𝕽egina strolled into the Great Hall with purposeful steps, dressed in her usual expensive and refined school robes as she sat down at the Gryffindor table and pulled out a piece of parchment along with her burgundy phoenix quill. Unlike any other day, she wasn't there to enjoy a leisure breakfast before class. No, this was the moment that would become a turning point in her life, the first step to recognition that Regina so longingly desired after being born in her older siblings' shadows. An opportunity to prove to her parents that she was not just a pretty face to be used as a means to secure an alliance, that she was going to become somebody great and worthy of her family's long history of prestige by putting her skills and knowledge to the ultimate test. She'd been waiting with little calm for this very moment. Regina had no doubt her French cousin from Beauxbatons would be putting his name in too--they were similar like that. But whether their motivation was identical, she did not know.

The raven-haired Gryffindor had her phoenix quill ready in her right hand, and with a small dip into her fancy glass inkwell, she confidently filled out the first lines of information on the form.

Name: Regina Miller
Year: Second
School: Hogwarts
Special Person:

When those were done and out of the way however, the Heiress found herself hesitating at the last part, lips pursing lightly as conflicting feelings inside her stomach began to churn. As far as she was concerned, Regina did not have anybody that she could attach the term 'special person' to. She had made scarce connections during her first year before she had to leave Hogwarts temporarily because of the whole ordeal with her aunt Beatrice's mysterious and alarming passing, so that was out of the picture. Perhaps someone she had met since the beginning of this year, then? But they were all either just another face in the halls or recent encounters that were still simply too underdeveloped to even be called close friendships--

A familiar face popped into her mind all of a sudden, a whimsical girl with red hair as bright as the fire that reminded Regina of the one always burning in the Gryffindor common room or the fireplace in the Miller Manor during cold winter nights. Hazel eyes that gleamed with childish innocence that never held any hostility. An outlandishly mismatched fashion with colours that didn't make sense but fit her frivolous personality.

Orchid eyes almost instinctively took a glance at the Ravenclaw table, and the ravenette could almost imagine that person's light-hearted laughter inside her head. Her gaze instantly snapped back to the parchment in front of her when an uncomfortable, but not quite unwelcome, feeling surged inside her chest. Regina swallowed as her fingers tightened a fraction around her quill.

She didn't know if this was wise. She didn't know if this would even mean anything or lead to any desirable outcome in the end. The Lion hadn't even known that one day somebody would manage to break her carefully constructed walls down so easily, even after being at the end of her wand. She hadn't known Faye would come and stay.

Perhaps it might not transcend into anything...but if she ended up as Hogwarts Champion after all, then it was a chance to show that she'd improved as a person as well.

Having made up her mind, Regina finished filling in the last information required.

Name: Regina Miller
Year: Second
School: Hogwarts
Special Person: Faye Simmons

She didn't feel any regret afterwards. Let it not be known that Regina Miller was a coward. After all, she was a Gryffindor at heart, even if she did not fit the personality stigma.

Satisfied, the purple-eyed witch returned her phoenix quill and her glass inkwell into her satchel, grabbed a few bites from her breakfast plate and walked to the Goblet of Fire with all the confidence and elegance of a distinguished Pureblood Heiress. She watched zealously as the blue flames swallowed up the parchment, and left the Great Hall.

WC: 686
Thread left.

Alec remembered hearing the announcement in the great hall. The Hexwizard Tournament coming to Hogwarts. I had been hard to believe, the announcement was questionable, and Alec felt as if he would always have mixed feelings on the matter. Alec spent days doing intense thorough research on the past Triwizard tournaments. Time began to blend into one, several weeks feeling like days, and the time to throw your name into the goblet of fire came sooner and sooner. Little by little Alec found himself more and more drawn to the idea of it. Then one day a thought popped into his head, what if he put his name into the goblet of fire? Alec felt crazy daring to suggest he would put his own name in. Something about the idea was thrilling. The possibility of it being chosen, the possibility of competing.

One part of him argued for it, the other? Against it. Surely he wasn't suggesting that he would ever be capable of competing in the Hexwizard Tournament. Alec would fall flat on his feet. Brooms what about brooms? Alec was terrified of heights. He couldn't do it, he wouldn't be able to do it. Alec felt barely competent as a student, let alone a duellist. Yet, every time he would push the thought away again telling himself 'no, it's a bad idea. It's not worth it', the other side of him would began to push back fives time as hard.

'It was dangerous, but you could be safe if you knew what you were doing, if you prepared.' the other side would argue. 'Flying a broom would mean nothing in the end, if you did it, if you-' a tantalizing whisper his ear, he tried to stop himself before he'd go on. Alec did his best to push against it, but he began to fall to it as the days went on.
____
Alec was going to do it, he was going to put his name into the goblet of fire. If he was chosen and died at least they could say he'd died a Gryffindor's death. Rash decisions and- Oh right! He was supposed to go to the great hall. Alec had been too busy jokingly moping to release his anxiety that he past the door completely. Turning back around, Alec would walk to the door and enter the room. It was Friday, classes had finished maybe half-an-hour or so ago, in preparation for the weekend it was unlikely there would be many to see him do it.

Alec had seen the piece of paper many times before. Almost every night people would stay just a few minutes longer just to watch who may have been brave enough, or stupid enough to put there name in. Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Alec stared at the piece of paper as he dipped his quill into ink and began to write, he kept his hand-writing neat, and since he was left handed, made sure his quill hand didn't accidentally lean on areas he already written on as he continued to write.

Name: Alec Mason
Year: Third-year
School: Hogwarts
Special Person:

Frustration would begin to pick at him from the start. Like a document, Alec would have to put his full name onto the slip. If he was chosen they were going to use his full name. It was a another mess he preferred not to think of. Year and school had been easy but Alec paused at special person, just as he'd noticed many others had. Alec gave himself two options, planning ahead, he decided he would figure out what to do in the moment.

He could lie, or he could give an honest answer and tell the truth.

He thought of lying because he was worried harm might come to the person, but Alec was joining the Hexwizard tournament on the presumption that it would be safer, maybe he didn't need to lie? Quickly Alec would scribble down the true answer and stop to once again stare at the piece of parchment.

Name: Alec Mason
Year: Third-year
School: Hogwarts
Special Person: Wyatt Starkey

Wait- no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Bad decision, wrong choice, taking it back, Alec did not feel good about that. Alec dealt with the situation by not so gracefully tearing up the parchment, leaving the shreds in a pile he could deal with later and starting anew. He was not having Wyatt's name on it. He couldn't face himself with the possibility of Wyatt somehow getting hurt. Or even if he wasn't hurt, something Alec hadn't thought of yet, people might try to resurface everything on Wyatt, all the old rumors, and people just might be mean because people can be terrible. Wyatt didn't need that.

It was time for Alec's back-up plan. Write someone you think the world could use a little less of. Alec had quite a few choices, one consideration was Henry Knight, but Alec knew he didn't hate him as much as he liked the idea that he thought he did. Besides, he had to go to school with that kid, best not to find himself another way to perish if he was chosen and the tournament wasn't the thing to do it. As stalkerish as it was, Alec had to do some digging for this one. He'd only caught the kid's first name. Alec traced it back trying to see if he could find names on the sport roster sheets for the foreign students. The guy done duelling a while back apparently. Well, it was his fault he had his name out in the world to be used freely, Alec wasn't sorry.

Name: Alec Mason
Year: Third-year
School: Hogwarts
Special Person: Enzo Delcroix AKA meanie frog face give him the worst you've got

Perfect. Now, one last time before he went up there he needed to repeat his reasons. Just to make sure this was really what he wanted.

Competing in the Hexwizard Tournament was something he wanted because he had something to prove to himself, and to others. He wanted to use being apart of the tournament to better himself, find his weak areas and improve. Alec wanted to do it to prove he was capable of so much more than he'd previously thought. Stronger, than he thought. He wanted to do it, because if he could get through it decently, then he knew he could do anything else. Alec wanted firm thoughts and memories engraved on his brain of overcoming all of it. He wanted to push away his doubts. He wanted to prove he was worthy.

All of it still checked out... Slightly questionable no need to fall into the deep end on questioning insecurities. This was what he wanted.

Alec would walk up to the goblet, and with a breath of relief he would drop the paper in. Watching as the flames fought to eat the paper and dissolve. “Well, I can't set his arrogant frog face on fire in person. I may as well settle for how close I've gotten to it with watching his name burn.” His voice was quiet, a whisper of words to himself that would make his lips split into a smile. He would walk back over the table to gather the pile of shredded parchment from earlier and began walking away.

What he did was reckless and dangerous, and done.

If he had the choice to go back and redo it all he would do the same thing. Even if he wasn't chosen, putting his name into the goblet had shown something to him today, he was brave, slightly stupid but also brave. He was proud of himself for going through with it.

_{He was also much more reckless then he'd thought he was but that was a minor detail in the grand scheme of things.}

Date: March 25th, 2022, sometime after classes | @Wyatt Starkey | @Akari Kato | Alec has left the thread

Illowy hadn't spoken to anyone about the Hexwizard Tournament... and honestly, she didn't plan to. Even the walk towards the Great Hall felt like auto pilot. She wasn't allowing herself to think too far forward. So much of her time here had been spent lurking in the shadows, keeping out of sight... quietly honing herself alone to try to be everything she was supposed wanted to be. What was the point of all the work she'd been trying to put into herself if she wasn't willing to, just once, step into the light. To put herself in a position to be seen. Just a chance to prove one's self to be the best; and she wanted to be the best. Granted she wasn't sure who she was trying to prove this to, but even just a shot was worth something. Wasn't it?

Never mind the potential price. One couldn't put a price on something they desperately wanted. And she didn't want to risk anyone trying to convince her that she shouldn't, or that she couldn't. Or maybe she was afraid it would be herself saying it. That it was a bad idea. A dangerous or reckless idea; willingly putting yourself in potential harm's way. Not that that had ever stopped her before.

The girl stepped quietly to the Great Hall after the initial buzz around the Goblet of Fire. Her pale gaze swept around the hall a moment, trying to see if anyone she knew might be around, before getting herself a piece of paper. Some part of her couldn't believe this process was as easy as picking up a simple bit of parchment to toss in the flames. A flick of the wrist and it was done with no takesy-backsies.

The girl picked up a quill :

Special person? What exactly did that mean? Someone she trusted the most? The strongest person she knew? The most useful? Someone who simply meant a lot to her? Her circle of friends wasn't exactly vast... honestly the list of potentials to write on her parchment was shorter then the list questions in front of her. In truth, no matter what the question meant, she knew who she wanted to write down.

Special Person : Bridget Collins

Setting the quill back into the ink pot, the young witch brushed a bit of hair out of her face before neatly folding up her paper and turning towards the Goblet.

Now or never. Who knew when another chance like this would cross her path, she figured. It wasn't as though she had anything to really loose.

She held the paper securely between her fingers, tapping the corner with her thumb; a moment of hesitation to see if her conviction might break. Not this time. With a sharp flick of her fingers, the paper flew into the bright flames.

It was done. No turning back now. All she had to do was wait and see if she would be chosen.

𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙵𝙸𝚃: Reducio *The t-shirt is plain black.

▪ 𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚈 ▪ ▪ FELIX ▪ KOLBECK ▪ ▪ DURMSTRANG iNPC ▪ THIRD YEAR ▪

𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂: Reducio MENTIONING: @Serena Towers as Arjan Oberoi @Levi Drakos as Henrietta Montagne

After peeling the lake-drenched uniform off of himself and changing into a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt, Felix was finally able to get back into his signature look; a leather jacket. He was feeling much more like himself, but his tolerance for his peers had all but taken a nose dive, and the 'stay away from me' sneer he wore on his face when he marched into the Great Hall that evening said as much.

When his mother had heard about the tournament, she had owled him to ask him not to enter. Which was absolutely hilarious, because there was no way in hell he was missing out on a show like this. Besides, entering the tournament and being selected for it meant he could hold it over Arjan, and that itself was reward enough.

The questionnaire was easy enough, and he quickly jotted down his answers until he got to the last question. Special person? What? Felix's pale face darkened with a red hue as his mind instantly went to Ret. That was his business, however. Just who the hell did this piece of paper think it was? It couldn't ask him that kind of question. A scowl twisted his features as his cold blue eyes glared daggers at the parchment as if it were sentient and had purposefully asked him this question. Still, there was only one answer, so he wrote down Ret's full name with some reluctance. If they harmed her somehow, he would kill every single person who had anything to do with this tournament. Then again, they would have to manage to catch her first, and Ret wasn't the type of girl to sit idly by.

He folded the piece of paper once, hiding his answers as if they were taking a test instead of filling out a simple entry. He walked up to the dumb-looking cup and tossed the parchment inside of the burning fire. Take that, Mum.

Name: Felix Kolbeck
Year: Third
School: Durmstrang
Special Person: Henrietta Montagne

Roleplaying as Phylicia Stanwood

From the moment Phyllis came into the Great Hall that morning and saw the fiery goblet, she was excited. She knew exactly what it was, of course. The Goblet of Fire was legendary and probably one of the coolest things wizards did. When she was little and entertained herself with make-believe, she would sometimes imagine herself as one of the Champions, bravely conquering whatever daring task had sprung from her young mind. For all her fascination with it, Phyllis was not intimately familiar with the history of the tournament as that would have required reading, which was something she could rarely be bothered to sit still for, especially as a child. She did know people had died in the tournaments and that was why they had stopped, so she had never thought she would be here, mesmerized by the dancing blue flames, the Goblet of Fire back in business.

In an incredible show of impulse control, Phyllis did not cast in her name right then and there. She certainly could have, but she stopped herself. Maybe it was because the tournament was kind of dangerous. That didn't give her too much pause, though. It was more that she wanted to talk to other people about it first, to hear what they thought and planned to do. And talk she did, eagerly chattering with friends, classmates, and even a few strangers. There were those with their reservations, but she found plenty that shared her enthusiasm. The discussion of it fueled her through the day, each concurring opinion strengthening her resolve, and by the time dinner was over--her restraint was not good enough to sleep on it-- she was sure she wanted to do this.

Why? Well, why not? To be in this tournament would be a dream, perfect for someone like her that thrived on adrenaline. Could you get any better competition than this? And yeah, she wasn't sure she was the best possible person for this. Her wandwork wasn't very impressive--she was getting better!--but her athleticism had to count for something. There was probably someone better from Ilvermorny. That was for the goblet to decide, though, and there was no guarantee she'd ever get another chance. How much would she regret it if she didn't give it a shot?

The hall was slowly emptying, the meal eaten and people retreating to do their own thing. Some stuck around to marvel at the goblet and watch names get thrown in. Phyllis was at a table with her slip of paper and quill. It was nothing very hard, just basic details. The goblet must be super cool and all-knowing if it knew who to pick without them telling it about them. She tapped her quill against the table for a moment, trying to decide whether to put her actual full name or her nickname. When did she ever go by Phylicia? No, Phyllis was fine.

Name: Phyllis Stanwood
Year: 3
School: Ilvermorny
Special Person: K Theodore Duncain

The last part had been a bit confusing. What did it mean by 'special person'? Just, like, her favorite person? She went to write Karilyna, since they'd been best friends basically since they met, but stopped after just the K. Karilyna wasn't on this trip, and the paper probably wanted someone actually here. So she wrote Theo instead, since he was her other best friend and a close second thought.

Yep, okay, that looked good. With a little nod to herself, she strode up to the goblet, unbothered by any eyes on her. Unlike her Headmaster's propensity for dramatics, Phyllis put on no performance, just reached up, dropped in her paper, and gave the goblet a little smile. She would give a wave to anyone she knew in the crowd when she turned around, but other than that, she was done, heading out of the hall with a little hop in her step.

Aida needed a new beginning, a way to prove themselves and make their "new life" real. Approaching the Goblet of Fire, paper in hand, Aida wanted to burn up the ugliness of the past by casting the paper into its hungry flames. By the phoenix feather core in their wand and the phoenix tear necklace at their throat, Aida wished now to be reborn in the flames of this tournament.

The early years in the white mage's time at Hogwarts were a whirlwind, adjusting to a newfound magical world, the discovery of mental conditions following traumatic near-death experiences, and a realization of how they could not normally fit into the rest of society as a human wix. Having nearly starved to death and reviving at the healing hands of Ileen, Aida had already had an opportunity to change what they couldn't deal with in life. Yet, for two years it felt as if Aida had been spinning in place without progress. They had gotten no closer to apprehending the thief of memories after the dire kitchen encounter shared with Alexander Varellion. The memory of the mosp that Aida had failed to save, the heart-rending disappearance of Griffith, and the promise made to the Undead King-- the fervor and pain had faded around the edges despite the sacredness of those moments. The bond between Aida and their owl friend, Scheherazade, grew deeper to fill the void left by Alexander's submersion into Marion Davenport's world. Aida couldn't help but wonder how everything would have turned out if only Griffith had been there that day, saving the mosp, and providing the adult mentor that Aida needed in order to follow a traditional upbringing in Magizoology.

Instead, the albino mage kept to themselves, untrusting of adults who had never been there for them when most desperately needed. Even when Aida was being eaten by a giant burning spider, it had been Alexander's heroism that Aida saw as the world faded to black. The people who had been there at Aida's darkest hours, Alexander Varellion and Ileen Knight-- those were the only humans Aida could really trust. Spiralling deeper into the study of non-humans, beastmastery and magizoology, Aida's obsession for creatures burned in isolation by library candlelight and solo forays to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Aida didn't know what to make of the fellow albino from Durmstrang who had explained so much about speed broom flying. Whenever Valentin Schnell had reached out, Aida had been frightened, unsure, and treated him like a wounded animal rather than as a would-be true friend. Yet, the wounds of the heart he bore were not the kind Aida knew how to heal-- not without opening their own heart to him, as well. It was one thing to be a pathological truthteller, and it was quite another to go out of the way to talk about Aida's own problems. With Valentin far away in Durmstrang, the friendship failed to gain substantial foothold and Scheherazade the owl was more trusted with the secrets of Aida's claustrophobic panic attacks and schizophrenic episodes.

Wanting to burn away the tangle of past problems and memories, Aida wished they could be like a phoenix and be reborn. Yet, knowing that nothing would just happen with a snap of their fingers, Aida decided the next best thing would be to prove themselves in a tournament. Even if they didn't win, surely some of the bramble would burn away in their struggle to ascend.

Approaching the cauldron, Aida's eyes squinted. Silently asking, please, Aida cast their lot into the fire. Turning away, Aida knew the rest was up to fate.

Name: Aida M.A. Ellwood
Year: 3rd
School: Hogwarts
Special Person: Alexander Varellion

OOC: Both Alexander and Ileen Knight are special people to Aida, but I selected Alexander because I think their plot activity needs some better resolution, if possible. If neither are a good option, Valentin Schnell (my iNPC) will happily be a plot-relevant special person.

Mentions: @Alexander Varellion @Ileen Knight

Interacting with: Nobody Mentioning: @Serena Towers

---------------------------- Speech ----------------------------

RPing as iNPC Milo Durand Date: March 20th

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Today was a weird day. Milo walked into the great hall of hogwarts, just wanting to have a look at this hexwizard cup. He did want to put his name in, he did. He enjoyed chaos, hopefully not death like past cups included.... but if there was a bit of chaos and a chance to show off, you know Milo would go for it.

He took a slip of paper, on it had written some very basic information, and then one question that was significantly harder.

Name: Milo Durand
Year: 5ème 5th
School: Beauxbatons
Special person:

Special person, who would that even be? His first thought would've been Clara, but she explicitly told him she was done with coming to Hogwarts, and putting her name on it would likely drag her out here with him. He did love his sister but he was also glad to see the back of her. She often got in the way of his romantic escapades. Probably to save the poor person on the receiving end of it. But either way she wasn't there anymore, she was busy with her own stuff back at home.

Who else would it be then? He stood there holding this sheet of paper, quill in his other hand, just looking at the words. The only other thing he could think of...was what if he put Serena? She was kinda special, but even just in a way that he wants her to think that she is special to him. And there wasn't really anybody else to put. He didn't speak to that many people that were willing to come over here, most of his friends stayed in France.

That was it decided then. As he jotted down her name, taking it slowly to spell it right.

Name: Milo Durand
Year: 5ème 5th
School: Beauxbatons
Special person: Serena Towers

7:50 pm, 22nd of March 2022

With the near imminent settlement of curfew, activity within the castle had dwindled, leaving only a remnant of the student body to traverse the corridors. Of that scant few who Nicholas passed, a majority had been wandering in much the opposite direction. It was generally considered good practice to get back to the common room before you ran the risk of roaming the halls at a time that the school deemed inappropriate. Still, the energy that thrummed through the school was still more vibrant than one may expect from a Tuesday night. It would seem that the arrival of visitors from abroad certainly managed to reinvigorate the castle’s atmosphere. Conversation had been near neverending, not only with regard to the Hexwizard itself, but also in relation to those peculiar foreigners who’d come to compete. More than a few comments seemed to relate to just how attractive their visitors were, while others were more prone to discussion regarding the swell of rumours that any group of strangers would undoubtedly cause.

Nicholas hadn’t bothered with the foreigners at all, they weren’t his competition. Not yet, anyway. Just like racing, in order to compete with those from other schools, you first needed to best the rest of Hogwarts. The Goblet of Fire was the first true test of the Hexwizard. Although, how he would go about passing said test was entirely beyond Nicholas’s reckoning. It called to him, a siren hailing a sailor to his death. However, unlike the proverbial seaman, it was more than likely would not even be offered the chance to flounder in the vastness of the ocean. No, he had to earn the right to drown, to struggle against the swell and the tide.

The tournament had descended upon Hogwarts like a storm heralding the coming of spring. Nicholas had every intention of striding into the eye of the hurricane.

So, with the sun long since set, the second year strode into the great hall. The click and clack of his shoes upon the old and worn floor echoing throughout the vastness of the room, betraying just how small he really was. The grimace his mouth had twisted into was matched only by the dark determination that had settled upon his brow. Brown eyes burned like peat, as long, determined strides carried him forth.

The memories that had plagued him, expectations that had tormented him, for once, were silent, as only the task that was set before him came to prominence within his mind. Nicholas McCowan would win, he would clutch glory, claim it for his own, and damn those who’d stand in the way of that. He cared not for the letter from his grandfather, nor for the heart that Aurora had seen fit to crush through her poisonous machinations, he was going to enter this competition for him.

Of course, try as he might, he could not get the Ravenclaw seeker out of his mind. She was the strangest girl he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting, she’d caused slugs to vomit from his mouth, thrown mud at him, tricked him into kissing her, and worst of all, had made him actually care about her. It had taken him half a year to realise it, and by that time, it had become too late for him to return to the status quo. He wanted to hate her for what she did, and in truth, he did. Yet, hate was not so far from love, and part of him still cared deeply for the girl. Be it puppy love, or the doomed longings of the truly youthful, Nicholas did not know. Nor did he know enough to comprehend such concepts. All he knew was that angry, so constantly angry.

The piece of parchment he gripped tightly in his right hand was testament to that. His clutch had crumpled it into near oblivion, leaving the ink smudged in some points, the harsh script he’d written in legible but smeared.

Name: Nicholas McCowan
Year: 2nd
School: Hogwarts
Special Person: Aurora Ranvier Aur Aurora Ranvier

It had taken far too long for him to bring himself to write the girl’s name down. He’d not wanted to, but in the end, she was still the person who he considered the most special. It burned him to think it, and he’d dare not say it, out of worry that the utterance would turn his tongue to ash. Yet, he’d written it, and now it stood as permanent testament.

Wordlessly he stomped up to the goblet, the scowl on his face only deepening. Two heartbeats passed, doubts were dispelled, and then he threw the crumpled piece of parchment into the goblet. The ball of paper flew through the air without grace, before the fire claimed it in all of its mundanity.

Yet, Nicholas did not see such an event, for he was already on his way out of the hall. Heavy footfalls betraying his frustration.

He would win.

@Aurora Ranvier