Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

it. The Hogwarts champion next …
    And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.
    ‘The Hogwarts champion,’ he called, ‘is Cedric Diggory!’
    ‘No!’ said Ron loudly, but nobody heard him except Harry; the uproar from the next table was too great. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off towards the chamber behind the teachers’ table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.
    ‘Excellent!’ Dumbledore called happily, as at last the tumult died down. ‘Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real –’
    But Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking, and it was apparent to everybody what had distracted him.
    The fire in the Goblet had just turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.
    Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat, and read out –
    ‘Harry Potter.’

 
     
— CHAPTER SEVENTEEN —
     
The Four Champions
    Harry sat there, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned. He felt numb. He was surely dreaming. He had not heard correctly.
    There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.
    Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear towards her, frowning slightly.
    Harry turned to Ron and Hermione; beyond them, he saw the long Gryffindor table all watching him, open mouthed.
    ‘I didn’t put my name in,’ Harry said blankly. ‘You know I didn’t.’
    Both of them stared just as blankly back.
    At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.
    ‘Harry Potter!’ he called again. ‘Harry! Up here, if you please!’
    ‘Go on,’ Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.
    Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. It felt like an immensely long walk; the top table didn’t seem to be getting any nearer at all, and he could feel hundreds and hundreds of eyes upon him, as though each was a searchlight. The buzzing grew louder and louder. After what seemed like an hour, he was right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the teachers upon him.
    ‘Well … through the door, Harry,’ said Dumbledore. He wasn’t smiling.
    Harry moved off along the teachers’ table. Hagrid was sat right at the end. He did not wink at Harry, or wave, or give any of his usual signs of greeting. He looked completely astonished, and stared at Harry as he passed, like everyone else. Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall, and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite him.
    The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus moustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.
    Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when Harry walked in, and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.
    ‘What is it?’ she said. ‘Do zey want us