The Goblet of Fire Open

March 20, 2022

The promise of death or glory, all one needs to do is deposit their name. Claim their right as champion and defeat the paltry offerings of the five other schools. She was the obvious choice when placed alongside her peers, sickly and pale. She was a paragon of physical potential; they were potatoes in designer threads. She had developed raw physical skills which she had honed to deadly perfection, partially thanks to the monsters she had emulated herself after. Rigorous training and physical excellence, learning a few spells was child's play in comparison to her martial mastery which would take these spuds years.

It would be the morning of the announcement; she would be among the first to rise from her seat. A haunch of meat in one hand and a quill in the other. She would tear the meat from the bones of her morning meal, yes it was pure protein but an upgrade from rats. A pretty blonde that hardly exhibited herself as a dainty, gentle creature. She was more like a barbarian with curls.

With her non-dominant hand as her dominant was occupied by the far more important hunk of meat on a bone, she would scribble her name on the slip of parchment.

Name: Erin Ryan
Year: 5th
School: Hogwarts
Special Person: Miss Jensen

She could not think initially of a "special person" until she considered the woman who fed her. She recalled her here and there, her continually pale and often disgusted face. She was the 'great food bringer' and for that she had earned Erin's loyalty and her name on the murder paper that she would thrust into the goblet of fire. She did not know the value of love or fidelity and she had no friends, just the "food bringer." That should count for something. Food was a valued commodity, therefore Miss Jensen was valued.

Interacting With:

Outfit: ꕤ | ꕤ

Mentioning: @Mathias Pride | @Levi Drakos | @Jack Warren

Date: March 2oth, 2022

The Great Hall looked enchanting with its spring-inspired decorations, and Winnie could not help but pause to admire the petals as they soared and danced through the air. Spring was a celebration of new life, the promise of a better tomorrow as the planets rose from their icy graves and emerged into a brighter world. Like the renewing nature of spring, Winnie planned to take on the world with a new attitude.

This is why she decided to put her name into the Goblet of Fire.

Sure, the competition was potentially dangerous, but she had discovered she enjoyed the thrill after she had joined the Quidditch team. She could handle any physical challenge the Hexwizard tournament provided her. If she won, surely she couldn't be ignored anymore. Not by her father... And not by Mathias.

A piece of paper retrieved, she started to write down the details of her entry.

She hated how her hand had automatically written Mathias' name. She equally hated that it was true; he was still her 'special someone' and lived rent-free within her broken heart. Gnawing down on her lip, she quickly scribbled out the former Slytherin's name. Who could she write? There was Levi, and she even started to write his name down on the paper, but she paused midway. She had promised to attend the ball with him, but that was a complicated situation. No, she couldn't write his name, she scribbled out that section as well.

Realizing the special someone could be platonic, she found herself caught between two people. Either her pseudo brother, Jack Warren, or her roommate, Aurora. In the end, she decided to write Jack's name, as he had been an important part of her life since they were young children.

Name: Winifred Harper
Year: Second
School: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Special Person: Mathias Pride
Lev
Jack Warren

After she had finished scribbling the information on the piece of parchment, she approached the cup, watching as the flames crackled and danced, casting a glow in the area surrounding the gold chalice. She tossed her entry in with a gulp, watching as the paper was absorbed by the flames.

There was no backing out now.

March 20, late at night after curfew.

He did not eat with the denizens of the Great Hall. He did not sit with them after hours. He did not participate in their antics or their games. No, he was very much alone, and he preferred it that way. The safety of his quarters the only refuge from his she-devil paramour. How he missed her shrieking call, like a demon's cry. How he missed her needly, little, cold hands that reminded him of death.

The time was not quite right but it soon would be. When everyone believed the charade. When everyone believes the lie.

Donning still when he left his personal quarters, the cloak and helmet which were still damp from the evening before he would cast Fumos at the threshold of the Great Hall and approach the grand vessel. A rolling fog, a trademark of his approach. His boots, still wet would leave a trail of footprints as he found himself before the goblet. With haste he would write his name, his true name -- Mathias Pride. He would write his school, his present school as unfortunate as it might have been -- Mahoutokoro. Year -- easy enough, third. Special person -- Winnie Harper of course. He wrote the name without thinking, automatically. Then a numb panic would set over him.

No, not Winnie. That just will not do.

With a shaking hand, he cut a line through the name "Winnie Harper" and in thick, bold letters slightly larger than the rest he replaced the name with another "Levi Drakos."

Name: Mathias Pride
Year: Second
School: Mahoutokoro
Special Person: Winifred Harper Levi Drakos

He would not tarry here, his name among the other scraps within the confines of the cauldron he would leave the way he came.

• ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏᴏᴛɴᴏᴛᴇ •
· || ────────────────── ────────────────── || ·
The Great Hall - 20th March 2022

There was a lot of excitement surrounding the goblet of fire, the Hexwizard Tournament, and gossip over who the Champions would be. It had become common for Aurelius to hear others in the halls, in corridors, and other places throughout the school discussing the subject. Yet, despite the attention, it didn't seem many wanted to really put their names into the goblet - just bold claims, displays of bravado, and similar acts for attention among peers that commonly resulted in baseless awe and follow through.

Aurelius was different.

The Slytherin walked into the Great Hall with purpose. He was dressed in his immaculate school robes, per usual, with the coat that covered most of his form. Not one for fanfare or displays, Aurelius had decided on a time when the area was relatively unpopulated. The act didn't seem like something to posture or brag about, at least not to Aurelius, but rather was a decision he felt ran parallel to his want for personal greatness; he was a youth, a pure-blood, filled with the burning ambition of expectation, being a second born, and having to prove himself continually in the eyes of others in his life... so the want to accept, and overcome, every challenge presented had come to define Aurelius' path.

So, in his hand, Aurelius held the neatly written and folded piece of paper. As the Irish boy walked through the hall, he noted individuals at tables, groups clustered mostly, who were engaged in meals or discussions - and also caught their curious glances. Ideally, onlookers wouldn't have been present, but the interest in names placed into the goblet was likely going to be a hot topic for a while, so Aurelius made peace with the potential of rumor and gossip. It wasn't like it mattered, not to him, and the Slytherin knew that the likelihood of being picked was considerably low.

Being a first year doesn't help much, at all. No real friendships, beyond a few. Limited connections to older students...

The list went on, in Aurelius' mind. There was a moment of irony, as the Irish boy thought about his older brother - Sebastian - and how, in all likelihood had he of stayed at Hogwarts and been into his higher school years, the sibling probably would have been on the team or even a potential Champion. But alas, Aurelius had come to accept that he had to establish himself in Sebastian's shadow, to overcome the stigma of being a 'spare' in a rich wizarding family, and to take opportunities to prove himself better and more suited to inheriting his place as a heir.

Aurelius approached the goblet. He didn't hesitate, he didn't show any concern or second thought. Instead, with purpose and a casual pace, the Slytherin stepped right up to the burning and bright magical cup and regarded it. Up close, it was even more spectacular, with fine details one could miss from a distance away. Apparently a number of people had placed their names into the goblet, some even in Aurelius' own year, but he had no doubt a lot of older students would seek out the opportunity soon, also.

Well. Let's see what happens.

Aurelius freed his arms from the confines of his school cloak, then raised the folded note in his hand. He opened it, to check it over, before making the offering to the goblet:

Name: Aurelius Leeds
Year: First
School: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Special Person: Gemima Sable

The words were written neatly by quill and ink, cursive, and told of Aurelius' perfectionism in uniformity and size. There had been some due diligence on the choice of special person, though Aurelius couldn't claim to know what that might mean, exactly. The number of relationships the Irish boy had nurtured since his arrival at Hogwarts were few, but he felt that several people were amicable enough for consideration, and had decided on Gemima; not only was the Ravenclaw intelligent, she was also determined and book-smart, and capable with puzzles and mysteries.

And each of those are good traits for a tournament of unknown challenges to overcome.

Aurelius had considered Liana Kerr, of course, but suspected the redhead would put her own name into the goblet. Yet, Gemima had confirmed she wouldn't place her name for consideration, which meant her abilities and skills were perfectly suited to being the Irish boy's special person, should he be picked.

It was win-win.

Not only that, but Aurelius was someone who refused to give up, someone who didn't back down from an obstacle, and had every reason to do well - not only for the school, not only for his own pride, but to show his pure-blood family and community that he wasn't only a second son... that he was worthy of consideration, worthy of validation and worthy of becoming more than anyone in his family ever could be.

With a level blue-eyed stare at the blue fiery goblet, Aurelius refolded the note and lifted his hand. He wasn't tall, so to speak, but sent the paper upward and watched as it was whisked into the air before him and floated up. It continued, wafted on the air, until it passed the lip of the goblet, and then lowered inside - to which a fwoosh of fire claimed the note - and it was consumed by the magic of the cup, wherein Aurelius' name would now be held for consideration.

Yet, expectation was tempered with realism:

"My chances are low. But I refuse to not be in the running."

Without another word, Aurelius turned and started to walk away. His arms disappeared back within the school cloak about his shoulders, and he kept his gaze steady and forward, as he passed murmuring students seated at the long tables of the hall. They could say what they wanted, but Aurelius knew why he wanted to be in the Hexwizard Tournament, and it wasn't for fame or glory...

Mentioning: @Gemima Sable & @Liana Kerr
Aurelius exits the thread.

Xailah had been waiting for this since the rumors begun to spread. Hexwizard at Hogwarts? Why, that was downright absurd. Didn't they know that it was dangerous? Someone could die- someone was going to die. Tittle-tattle seeped into the ears of anyone willing to listen. It spread like water, it's tendrils flooding; the idea pooling in the newspapers of every publishing company in the wizarding world. No one stopped talking about it. It was too exciting of a thing, to simply forget.

When the return of the Hexwizard Tournament was revealed; and word finally reached her, Xailah was not struck with shock, nor alarm. What she saw, was an opportunity to feed. An insatiable hunger drove her. She was always looking for something more- a bigger adventure, a better high- she craved the feeling of living, of freedom. Unlike some that would submit their name, she did not seek glory. Oh no. She sought much more than that. The tournament could provide her with needed sustenance, and she knew it.

The goblet now present among the student body, encouraged unsettled glances between peers. The brave, curious, and most certainly foolish; presented thin squares of paper before the burning chalice, with cautious hands. Xailah was one of those curiously foolish students. The requirements to enter were simple; and the first few proposed questions (were they even questions?) were answered with ease. A pause would only fall on the last one. The claw-like nib came to a stop, her black quill halted. Pupils of tapering black, traced over the lines forming the words she wrote. Warmth pooled in her core. Special Person, a small voice in her brain echoed. A special person. Who was that to her? Who was her special person? She looked down at her quill for a moment, mulling.

Schrödinger came to mind. He was always there when needed. He kept secrets well, and he never judged her. But the usage of person implied that the being had to be bipedal, and capable of opening doors. In other words, a special human. She bit the inside of her cheek, and combed at the soft feathers lining her writing utensil. No one came to mind, admittedly. Then, with a sudden and bold- albeit uncertain- swoop of the quill, she scratched down a name. An unusual one in the end, but it was a name nonetheless. There only to make her a potential qualifier to this dangerous game. A flitter of a thought came and went while she carefully folded her paper, concealing its contents from prying eyes, was she someone's special person? Decisions made, Xailah drifted towards the goblet, and stretched a supple limb over the cups lip. The slip of parchment was then released from her pinched thumb and forefinger. She watched it drift reluctantly into the hungry blue flame, her eyes alight with a curiously hazy glow. The azure fingers latched onto the thin leaf, consuming it. It was gone in an instant. There was nothing that could be done, if she had a sudden change in heart and mind.

Concern would not yet settle into her head. The thought of an early death, should she be selected champion, did not loom; for she ran alongside the reaper. She had outsmarted him many a time. However, whether or not she had just endangered the unfortunate soul whose name had been etched into burning parchment, in some unforeseen way, came as a fleeting afterthought. The idea stung her, but there was nothing she could do. It was done. Names had been submitted. The fates were now weaving their twisted webs. There was no going back now. The countdown had begun.

Name: Xailah Alptraum
Year: Fifth.
School: Hogwarts.
Special Person: None, a random name was written out of haste.

Roleplaying as Castor Alarie Beauxbatons

French English

The French first year knew exactly what she would do and why she would do it.

She would be found walking into the Great Hall with something of purpose, though a mask of calm yet broad non-chalance was what covered up most of the nerves that seemed to ripple and sizzle beneath her skin. The pit of her stomach felt tampered with, and her body felt tense, though not because of the idea of the Tournament itself, but the idea of not getting selected. She had to do this. She wanted to do this. Still, she held herself in the Beauxbatons school uniform with the prepared and dishonest confidence of a king among commoners.

Castor was raised in an esteemed household of former duelists and powerful wizards. She was from a pureblood line where the word "participate" rolled off the tongue like a rock down a hill. She would do so with clear preparation and perfect precision. Though in order to participate, she had to make herself seen.

Castor Alarie
First
Beauxbatons

The first contents of the card were the easy part, scratched onto the paper in a nicely cut cursive, something she had spent good time perfecting. The dark ink bled onto the page, stained onto the parchment in irreversible intricacy. Not that it mattered, as even if it were led, she wouldn't have even considered erasing it. This was no place for second thoughts.

The more difficult answer was the final slot to fill. Special person? she thought confusedly, her brows furrowing just slightly. An absurd attempt at playful spirit? A name to call if you need an understudy to come take your spot if you were found sick or hurt? Whatever it was meant for, the answer still hung in the air like a word you couldn't quite form the shape of, though held on the tip of your tongue.

It couldn't be her mother. That boat had long sailed. She had lost her maternal value years ago. Her father was practically a silhouette by that point, a wavering memory of his former self. Her siblings were... well, they weren't as bad, though none of them held true love for her beyond what the press could muster onto a page. There weren't many who Castor saw beyond just acquaintances that provided her the privilege of potential popularity. Not that she had much of that.

The only other person that it could be was the once younger girl she exchanged letters with. Gemima. Gemima was a polite, driven girl, one who Castor had taken quite the liking to with her free way of building her own character, not having to train herself into some shadow of her true self. Obviously Castor couldn't relate to this personally, as who she built for herself was basically her true self. She couldn't imagine how her smile would appear if not trained into perfection.

Gemima Sable

Castor nodded to herself if not to the card, then turned to begin the walk to the goblet. Obviously gazes would follow, but it felt those gazes could be found in any other place in the English school. If it wasn't her wonderful hair, it was for the fact that she was from a foreign school. That was a given with visits like these.

The blue flame danced playfully before her, beckoning the young girl forward. Without much other thought, she dropped the paper into the goblet and watched it flutter in gracefully, disappearing like it was never there to begin with. Maybe that would be a permanent fact, or maybe the young girl would get a step onto the pedestal for the world to ogle.[/size]

WC: 603

You came to Hogwarts for that. No, I didn't. You came for the ball first. And then for the Goblet of Fire. But you wanted to be the champion of Durmstrang, as did probably half the students. Even though you were pretty sure you wouldn't be chosen because you were too young - you'd just turned twelve three days ago - you still had a little hope.
You entered the Great Hall with your usual determined step. The room was decorated, which was a change from the coldness of Durmstrang. You smiled. The atmosphere was right for the celebration of spring, which would start tomorrow. Then you think to yourself that it was more for the ball. You shrugged your shoulders and walked towards the Goblet of Fire. Viktoria had just put her name down and came down from the stage, winking at you.
You answered your sister with a grimace. You walked the last few steps to the Goblet of Fire. You took a piece of parchment out of your pocket. You had hesitated. You hesitated about who the cup would make special in your eyes. Not your sister, because that's still pretty logical. So you chose your best friend.

Name : Astrid Olsen
Year : Second
School : Durmstrang
Special Person : Artemis/Archer Ladrian

Artemis - or Archer depending on how s/he feels - is your best friend. It took you a few weeks to figure out how it was possible to feel like a girl and a boy at the same time. You thought it was impossible but you soon learned that nothing is impossible.
With a smile on your face, you carefully threw your scroll into the Goblet of Fire. Then you turned around, satisfied, and jumped off the stage. Then you went to find a place to have your breakfast while looking for Archer/Artemis around.

Norwegian - Russian - English
Outfit: [x]
Interacting: Viktoria Open to interactions
Mentioning: Archer • Artemis Ladrian @Draven Mirador
Action: Sign up for the Goblet of Fire

It was too obvious — no.

It was just a bit more than two months since she was back. With a simple condition — do not get into any trouble. Stay safe. Stay away from trouble. Stay away from people. Keep you friends near and... everyone else away.

She was reading a simple muggle physics book she managed to obtain during her last bookstore visit, just before she returned to Hogwarts. People were coming in and out, throwing their names into the Goblet. Did they all want to risk their lives for... for what? Glory? They were still children. Okay, not everyone. Some were young adults. Even Xailah was to turn 16 later in the year. Which came as a freezing breeze to her that they were actually growing up. During her homeschooling stay, time got a bit frozen in the moment. Everything was slowed down to a minimum. Age was not relevant anymore. But here, back at Hogwarts, there were a lot of people, first-years and seven-years. Some of them will graduate soon and get some wizarding profession out there. Glory might help them, yeah. A victory in such a tournament will definitely nicely add up to their portfolio of an auror or something.

She kept watching the people, doing little progress in the book. Some familiar faces were popping there from time to time and she was glad Xailah didn't appear among them. She wouldn't ask her directly whether she would participate, but she was sure Xailah would. For the same reason she participated in every adventure they had at school. And she was turning sixteen soon. Why would Meenauh try influence her decisions? Because she didn't want Xailah to be hurt. Yes, she wouldn't ever. But interfering with decisions of another conscious person could hurt even more. She learnt it the hard way at the beginning of the school year.

There was nothing in particular that could make her participate. All the four voices were keeping silent as if there was nothing to talk about. She thought maybe they just... left her alone. Alone in her solitude. The coming back to school was still a hurtful experience, considering she didn't feel cosy at the school anymore. As if danger was everywhere, behind each corner. She wouldn't stay if not Xailah and Pericles, honestly. It was just the two of them that made the day brighter.

It was getting later and later and every other spectator has already left the hall and few people were entering to throw their name into the Goblet. She packed her book into the bag and started to leave.

When she was passing the Goblet she suddenly stopped, not facing it. A sudden surge of the cold warmth ran through her whole body, putting her into a very strange stance. What if the cup was charmed? What if everyone in the area of it were suddenly finding themselves courageous and seeking glory? What if that was another trap, just like... just like the last one? To attract as many people as possible and guide them to a voluntary death? More participants this year — more potential victims. She threw off the trance and enabled the cold analysis machine. And it failed. And then failed again.

She shrugged it off and faced the Goblet.

"What do you want from me?" she asked it as if it could answer her, but it just kept staring at her with the cold glowing flame.

"Don't make yourself seemingly important, Meenauh," she told herself outloud — she, not any voice in her head. She put away her hair and stared at the Goblet again. Then she took the parchment and scribbled her name.

Name: Meenauh Silmataurea

And stopped. What was she doing? Is this the charm? And smiled at the stupidity of that. They were her own thoughts, her own decisions.

Year: Fourth
School: Hogwarts

The smile slithered away from her as she stumbled upon the last requirement.

She clenched her teeth together and closed her eyes. Yes, it was a trap. It was definitely a trap. She wasn't falling into it.

Special Person: Anyone but Xailah Altraum

She let the Goblet eat the piece of parchment by fiercely casting it towards the flame. She was going to regret it. But that realisation came to her way way after. She didn't remember how she reached the Common Room.

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