Chapter 26: The Goblet's Flame
The Great Hall shimmered with grandeur, silk banners from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang fluttering under an enchanted ceiling swirling with frost, the air crisp with pine and the sharp tang of winter. Students mingled—Beauxbatons in pale blue, Durmstrang in deep crimson, Hogwarts in a vibrant patchwork of house colors—creating a charged hum of anticipation that prickled Leo's skin. He leaned against a table, his frayed robes snagging on a chipped goblet's edge, his grin wide as he nudged Enid, her scarf a soft anchor against his arm. Magical Olympics? Time to steal the spotlight. The scent of spiced cider and old stone grounded his excitement, echoing the rally's unity, as Dumbledore's voice, a melodic rumble, filled the Hall, announcing the Triwizard Tournament, a beacon of magical unity.
"This is wild, right?" Leo whispered to Enid, his sarcasm bright. "A stage to show the world what Outcasts can do."
Harry, tugging at his robe's collar, muttered, "Another adventure? I'd sell my broom for a quiet year." His nervous energy, tied to his camaraderie during the cure's success, sparked a chuckle.
"Quiet? Boring," Leo quipped, his voice warm. "This is our chance to shine, Potter."
Agnes conjured a tiny goblet illusion, its orange flame flickering above her head like a miniature star. "Fancy cup, fancy trouble!" Her Gryffindor flair, echoing her prank during the Slytherin retaliation, drew chuckles, easing the crowd's anticipation.
[THEY'RE BUYING IT—FOR NOW.]
A flame animation pulsed in Leo's vision, its flicker ominous. He muttered, "Buying the unity act? Sure." Black Thorn's lurking. The conspiracy, unmasked with Orloff's capture, cast a shadow, tied to the ledger's cryptic warnings. The Goblet of Fire, jewel-encrusted and pulsing with blue flames, stood at the Hall's center, its magic drawing every eye. Dumbledore named Viktor Krum for Durmstrang and Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons, each announcement met with roaring applause that shook the rafters. Leo's beast-speaking caught the Goblet's hum, a pulse of ancient power tinged with unease. Fate or a setup? A chipped quill, its feather frayed, lay on a nearby table, grounding the moment as the crowd's cheers swelled, anticipation crackling like frost in the air.
The Goblet hissed, its blue flames spitting emerald sparks that cast jagged shadows across the Hall, the air heavy with a sudden chill of unease. The crowd's cheers faltered as a third parchment shot out, its edges glowing green, a chaotic flicker that set Leo's nerves on edge. Something's wrong. Dumbledore caught it, his voice steady but eyes wide, naming a third champion. Then, impossibly, a fourth parchment erupted, the flames sputtering violently, green tongues licking the air. The silence was a suffocating weight, murmurs rising like a swarm as Dumbledore's voice, stunned, echoed through the Hall.
"Harry Potter."
Leo's fists clenched, his beast-speaking catching the Goblet's erratic pulse, a chaotic thrum tied to the Black Thorn tampering hinted at during Orloff's exposure. They're rigging this to break him. The scent of wax and frost stung his nose, grounding his shock as the crowd buzzed with outrage, some shouting accusations, others whispering in fear. A chipped goblet rolled on the table, its clink sharp in the chaos.
[BEAST ECHO'S MEDDLING. WATCH THE SPARKS.]
A glitch animation pulsed, its claw sharp and menacing. Leo muttered, "Beast Echo? They're back with a vengeance." Black Thorn's pulling strings. He whispered to Enid, his sarcasm biting, "Goblet's throwing a tantrum now?"
"Needs a timeout," Enid giggled, her voice light but eyes fierce, her hand squeezing his, echoing their Great Hall kiss. Her scarf brushed his arm, a warm anchor in the storm.
Hermione snapped, her voice a low hiss, "This isn't random. The Goblet's been tampered with." Her strategist's mind, sharpened during the cure's triumph, rallied the Outcasts, her robes smudged with ink as she scanned the crowd for clues.
Wednesday's eyes narrowed to slits, her monotone sharp as her dagger glinted in the firelight. "They're targeting Harry. He's a symbol of hope." Her war room resolve, tied to her vow against prejudice, sharpened their focus, urging investigation. The Hall's frost swirled above, a chipped parchment fluttering to the floor, grounding their shock as the Outcasts huddled, their determination a spark in the icy air, ready to uncover Black Thorn's plot.
The Hall's uproar lingered, hushed murmurs blending with the scent of spiced cider and old stone, the enchanted ceiling now a stormy swirl of clouds reflecting the crowd's unease. Leo stood with the Outcasts, his heart pounding as Harry, pale and shaken, faced glares from students who thought he'd cheated the Goblet. They're setting him up to fall. The Black Thorn conspiracy, linked to Orloff's muttering of "Thorne," fueled Leo's rage, tied to the purge plans uncovered in the forest camp. He nudged Harry, his voice low but firm, his beast-speaking catching the crowd's tension like a pulse.
"We've got you, Potter. They won't break you." His words, a shield forged in the rally's unity, steadied Harry's trembling hands.
[BLACK THORN'S PULLING STRINGS. CUT THEM.]
A puppet animation pulsed, urging action. Leo muttered, "Strings? We'll shred them to confetti." They want Harry down. We'll lift him up.
Wednesday snarled, her eyes cold. "They're targeting Harry to kill hope. We stop them now." Her investigation arc, tied to her resolve during the Slytherin prank, aligned with Leo's leadership, strengthening their bond.
Lila, cleaning her spectacles, quipped, "Harry's a trouble magnet, isn't he?" Her dry humor, tied to her redemption from Orloff's exposure, eased the tension, sparking a faint smile from Harry.
"Trouble's bosses, that's us," Leo shot back, his sarcasm sharp, his grin fierce. The Outcasts' unity, forged in the rally and hardened by the cure, stood firm, their determination a blade against Black Thorn's schemes. Hermione's quill scratched, her voice resolute.
"We'll find the tampering evidence," she said, her strategist's mind mapping the next steps, her robes smudged with wax. "This is Black Thorn's move, no question." Her focus, tied to the ledger's secrets, urged action. A chipped candleholder flickered on the table, grounding their resolve as Cho spoke, her voice calm but firm.
"Logic says we trace the magic. It's not just Harry at risk." Her rally-born curiosity strengthened their plan. The Hall's murmurs urged them to act, their determination burning like the Goblet's flames, ready for the first task.
[MYSTERY'S HEATING UP. DON'T GET SCORCHED, KID.]
Leo's grin was fierce, his voice light but eyes hard. "Scorched? We're fireproof." The group's unity, a weapon forged in the cure's triumph, prepared them to protect Harry and unravel the conspiracy, their steps echoing with purpose as they left the Hall.
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