Chapter 45

Atlas lagged behind with Minerva as the rest of the two schools filed inside, Krum nodding in farewell and Zasha waving enthusiastically. As she watched them go Atlas had an inkling Luna and Zasha would get along if they ever met, Zasha would yell non-stop about Muggle animals while Luna would talk about all the magical creatures she had seen that were not yet proven or documented seriously. It’d be a strange pair but if Zasha was serious about befriending Ginny, they’d surely meet and probably cause some sort of explosion.

“That went well,” Minerva smiled, clasping her hands together as she then turned to Atlas and straightened the girl’s collar. “Zasha was terribly excited.”

“You know her, always full of energy no matter how many sleepless nights she endures,” Atlas sighed and Minerva nodded wisely, brushing off her shoulders as she then placed her hand at the small of Atlas’s back and guided her forward.

“Now come on, there are important announcements today.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed,” Atlas smirked and Minerva shook her head with a roll of her eyes, walking into the Great Hall and toward the Staffs’ Table. Atlas looked around, noticing the Durmstrang lot had sat with the Slytherins, Zasha waving at her openly as Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson were speaking into their own respective ear. The Black stifled a laugh behind her hand, Zasha had always acted blind to a person’s advances to save them from their inevitable rejection.

Then she turned to find the students of Beauxbatons sitting snuggly together at the Ravenclaw table, Fleur the most well kept among them as she had Atlas’s cloak to keep her warm. Though, it seemed, a few of the Ravenclaws had offered up their own clothes to the more stunning lot of the foreign school, each of them being politely declined in French. Well, a few desperate souls accepted but did so with clear chagrin, clearly, they wanted to flaunt their colours to show off their school’s coat of arms; crossed wands with sparks at their tips.

Fleur caught her eye and waved gracefully, a soft smile forming across her lips that would make any cold dead corpses heart pound again. Atlas simply smiled and waved back, making her way over to Gryffindor table where several faces were turned to her, waiting and questioning. She took her seat between Hermione and Ginny, Ron and Harry across from her but as soon as she sat, Ron may as well have been sitting in her lap.

“You know Viktor Krum?” Ron said breathlessly and Atlas backed away, slowly pushing his face away from her as she chuckled in amusement.

“No, Zasha knows Viktor Krum and now I know him because we’re school representatives,” Atlas told and Ron awed, looking at her with slightly wide eyes and his mouth agape. Harry shut it for him with a grin on his face.

“Who’s the girl from Beauxbatons?” He then asked, glancing over his shoulder at Fleur who was chatting idly with her schoolmates.

“That’s Fleur Delacour, an old friend of mine. You see that hairpin?” Atlas motioned over to the wooden rod, fashioned into something looking like a Unicorns horn. “I made it for her when we were kids, she was the first person to receive a Heartstone. Like the ones in your rings and Hermione’s necklace.”

“You seemed friendly,” Hermione observed.

“Yeah, I’m starting to think Katie was right,” Ginny grinned.

“Ha!” Katie chortled further down the table. Atlas flipped her off quickly before turning back to Ginny and flicking her forehead.

“Fleur is nothing like that.”

“She kissed you,” Ginny said.

“You kissed me,” Atlas smirked.

“You kissed her?!” Ron exclaimed and Ginny slapped him in the arm, turning to Atlas and hitting her as well as a furious blush bloomed across her face. Ginny looked at Hermione and shook her head in denial, Hermione just staring at her with her head tilted to the side and her brow cocked.

“I — I didn’t kiss her like that! I kissed her like she kisses Harry!” Ginny cried imploringly, scowling at Atlas, deadly-like. “Merlin, Atlas, I am going to kill you and feed you to Bella’s pigs. She’d let me as well!”

“She probably would…how did you know she had pigs?”

“We talked when you left after the Quidditch Cup!” Ginny huffed and then slumped in her seat, crossing her arms angrily. Atlas grinned and poked her cheek, testing the waters but Hermione grabbed her arm before she could lose her finger.

“Don’t push it,” Hermione sighed. Atlas regarded her a second before breaking out into an even wider grin and turning her finger to poke Hermione’s cheek. When the girl turned and glared at her, she dug her hands into the girl’s sides, instead, sending her into a fit of laughter. “Atlas!” she cried, her pleas drowned out by the louder noise of the Great Hall. Hermione buckled into Atlas and snorted, earning a laugh of her own from Atlas. “Stop!”

Atlas stopped, letting the girl gather her breath before starting again. “I didn’t know you were so ticklish, Mi.”

“Atlas, please!” Hermione begged, panting hot breaths into her shoulder and Atlas faltered, removing her hands with a light blush across her face. “You utter asshole,” Hermione groaned, hugging herself as she tried to soothe the slight ache she now had above her hips. Atlas slowly moved her arms back to her sides and coughed into her hand, turning back to the rest of the table. Harry was choking back laughter as Ron sipped on some juice obliviously beside him, Ginny full-on cackling to the ceiling. “that hurt.”

“Sorry, Mi,” Atlas smiled, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Hey, why are they putting out four chairs, when there are only two extra people?” Harry asked and Atlas looked the way he was, noticing that, indeed, there were two extra chairs than needed. She shrugged as an answer just as Ron made a vague sort of noise in response. “You two are so very helpful.”

“You’re welcome,” Atlas saluted idly, watching as the rest of the staff took their seats at the top table. The Headmasters and Headmistress were the last to sit down, the Beauxbatons rising from their seats respectfully and waiting as Madame Maxime took her seat before doing the same and carrying on with their conversations. A few of the other students seemed to find it silly, laughing loudly at the show but the Beauxbatons didn’t look at all fussed. It didn’t even seem like they had paid any attention. As if those who did not stand for the highest power of their school were the ones to be laughed at instead. Atlas knew those were probably the thoughts running elegantly through Fleur’s mind.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – most particularly – guests,” Dumbledore called out with a sincere smile to the hall. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast, I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

He sat down and Atlas turned her gaze back to the table. The plates in front of them filled with food as usual. There was a greater variety of dishes in front of them, this time, however, that Atlas had only ever seen during her stay at the foreign schools those few years ago, she grinned and leaned over the table, plucking up the pot of Bouillabaisse. She’d never really cared for seafood before, but after trying the stew in France it had grown on her and she was actually happy to see it among the dishes presented.

“What’s that?” Ron asked as Atlas put it back in the middle, licking the tip of her index finger after a bit of soup dripped upon it.

“Bouillabaisse,” Hermione said and Atlas glanced at her in surprise.

“Bless you,” Ron said and Atlas kicked him lightly beneath the table. “Ouch!”

“It’s French,” Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes, “I had it on holiday summer before last. It’s very nice.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Ron grimaced, instead, turning to another dish on the table. Atlas watched him do so as she slowly rose another spoonful of her stew to her mouth with a quirked brow, she found it strange how he could turn his nose up at the bouillabaisse but had eaten the black pudding all the same. She’d rather eat fish than a solidified cylinder of oats and pig blood.

“Hey, Atlas…” Ginny nudged her softly and then a tad bit harder when Atlas didn’t respond, “Atlas!”

“Yeah?” Atlas startled, looking away from Ron’s black pudding, Ginny, rolled her eyes and threw a thumb over her shoulder towards the Slytherin table, motioning toward the energetic blonde, waving her arm around maniacally. Atlas rolled her eyes with a small smile and waved back, looking over at Zasha funnily as she made wild and large gestures with her arms and hands. A few Slytherins moved away out of annoyance but the Durmstrangs in the vicinity took it in their stride.

“What is wrong with her?” Ginny mumbled.

“What isn’t?” Atlas huffed and then made a face of realisation, nodding in understanding. “Ginny, she wants to be friends.”

“You got that from…” Ginny looked over at the scene sceptically, Zasha increasing in her enthusiastic signals when she noticed Ginny’s attention, “…that?”

“Oh no, I have no idea what she’s doing, I just remembered earlier she said she wants to be your friend,” Atlas shrugged, Ginny turned to her with a quizzical look before turning back to Zasha with a curious smile, waving back after a moment of consideration. Zasha grinned and slapped the boy next to her blindly. “She’s…a character.”

“And Professor McGonagall says you’re wild,” Hermione mused.

“Hmm, Zasha is…enthusiastically happy and excited 24/7, she doesn’t run out of energy. I’m just wild, in the…literal sense,” Atlas told.

“You definitely bit people as a kid,” Harry snorted.

“Hagrid still has a scar on his hand,” Atlas grinned, licking her too-sharp canines. “He tried to plait my hair.”

“You’re scary, you know that, right?” Ron said over a mouthful of sausage.

“Speaking of,” Harry muttered, motioning over to the top table where Hagrid had just arrived through the side door. He slid into his seat, looking up to wave at the five with a severely bandaged hand, Atlas grimaced, knowing they would be dealing with the Screwts next lesson.

“Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?” Harry called.

“Thrivin’,” Hagrid called back happily.

“Yeah, I’ll just bet they are,” Ron said quietly. “Looks like they’ve finally found a food they like, doesn’t it? Hagrid’s fingers.”

“You know, I figured out the Giant Squid liked eating shark so I feel like I could work out what Skrewts actually like. Maybe I’ll work it out and tell him…” Atlas muttered and the trio turned to her wide-eyed and panicked looking.

“Don’t!”

“Don’t be an idiot, Atlas. They’ll eat us all!” Hermione scolded as Atlas laughed, leaning against her for support. Hermione glanced down at her and couldn’t help the smile that etched across her face. She huffed and rolled her eyes, pushing Atlas off of her with no real strength behind it. The smile was quickly wiped from her face, however, as a visitor had just come to the table, a visitor wearing Atlas’s cloak.

“Atlas,” Fleur smiled, her hands clasped behind her back. Atlas looked up, sitting up straight and wiping a tear from her eye. “You are ‘aving fun?”

“Very much,” Atlas grinned. “What brings you over here, Fleur?”

“Ah, yes, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?” she asked. Atlas noticed Ron going bright red in her peripheral, spluttering to reply before her and decided to remain silent, leaning against Hermione and smirking as an odd gurgling sound expelled from Ron’s throat.

“Yeah, have it,” Harry said, pushing the dish toward the girl.

“Harry!” Atlas sighed. It was just getting good.

“You ‘ave finished wiz it?”

“Yeah,” Ron said breathlessly. “Yeah, it was excellent.”

“Hermione, didn’t you want any?” Atlas asked, turning to the girl. Hermione seemed to startle before shaking her head mutely with a tight smile as she turned back to her own food, adamantly refusing to look in the direction of the bouillabaisse pot. “Then I suppose uh…” Atlas glanced at Hermione again with furrowed brows before smiling at Fleur, “you can take it, Fleur.”

“Zank you, Atlas. You should come over to ze Ravenclaw table, many of ze girls would like to meet you,” Fleur smiled, her perfect pearly whites on full show. Ron choked on his pumpkin juice and Harry grinned, slapping his back. Hermione seemed to grow uncomfortable, hiding the lower half of her face in her arms.

“I uh…don’t know if I can–” Atlas had just locked eyes with Dumbledore, the man raising his glass and nodding approvingly, “–I mean, yeah, alright,” she smiled, standing up from her seat. Hermione jumped slightly beside her and watched her stand, Ron, looking quite green now as Harry slowly lost his smile. “I’ll see you guys.”

“You’re going?” Harry asked, his brows furrowed. Atlas smiled sheepishly as Fleur grabbed her hand, happily dragging her over to the Ravenclaw table with the dish of bouillabaisse in her other arm.

“I’ll be back, I’m just saying hello,” Atlas reasoned, now turning to follow after her childhood friend.

They came to the Ravenclaw table and Fleur shooed one of her fellow girls further down the row with a grin, the other Beauxbatons giggling and whispering amongst themselves. Even the girl that had gotten evicted out of her seat engaged in the idle chatter, nodding at Fleur in greeting. Atlas was pulled down into a seat, Fleur placing the dish in the centre of the table and promptly ladling some into her own bowl, offering the rest to the girls and boys around her.

“Everybody, zis is Atlas.” Fleur introduced. Many hands came forward and Atlas chuckled slightly, kissing the knuckles of each one out of respect. She’d remembered doing that the last time she’d visited the school in the South of France, she’d found the students were a lot more affectionate but in a way that screamed chastity and respect. It had been overwhelming but that was how Atlas had met Fleur, they’d bonded over their mutual dislike, or rather, mutual discomfort when it came to physical affection because of how they had grown up.

Fleur had distant parents, her sister her only source of familial love and Atlas grew up with Minerva, who was, of course, a wonderful mother figure, however, she was absent most days, leaving Atlas with a lack of affection. So, the both of them found comfort in each other and slowly got used to it together. Which is why they were such close friends and the reason many got their platonic affections towards one another mixed up with romantic advances.

“Now, now girls,” Fleur warned lightly and then turned to Atlas with a smile, “So, Atlas, zat girl. ‘Ermione? Was it?”

“Oh don’t you start,” Atlas sighed.

“What?” Fleur laughed lightly, airily and a few of the Ravenclaw’s surrounding seemed to drool at the sound, shooting envious looks Atlas’s way, wondering how to make Fleur Delacour laugh themselves. “You ‘ave a crush on ‘er?”

“I don’t know,” Atlas shrugged, stretching her arms above her head and glancing over to the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff’s other side, while Mr Crouch, was next to Madame Maxime. Atlas made a face of realisation. Of course, they would be the missing guests, they were the organisers of the Triwizard Tournament, it’d be a bit odd if they weren’t going to be here to witness their own project. Ludo caught her eye and waved in a way that reminded Atlas of Zasha so she smiled slightly and waved back.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I just don’t know, I’ve never had a crush on anyone, Fleur,” Atlas sighed, turning back to her. “What does it even feel like?”

“Well…I don’t know ei’zer,” Fleur muttered and Atlas laughed, clutching her stomach. “Don’t laugh at me!” she shouted, hitting Atlas’s arm with an embarrassed smile. It was a sure treat to get a Veela embarrassed and those around them sure were appreciating the sight, even if Atlas was oblivious to it. 

“I’m sorry!” Atlas groaned, still hugging her ribs where they ached from the laughter. “Fleur, you’re…” she glanced around and leaned forward, “you’re part Veela and you’ve never dated anyone?”

“People like me, doesn’t mean I like people.”

“Fair play to you, Madame,” Atlas nodded.

Before Atlas knew it, the plates at the table vanished and were instead, replaced with a wide variety of deserts, stacked high and plentiful. A few were unfamiliar and even a few of the Beaxubatons seemed perplexed, so Atlas reasoned they might be deserts from the Durmstrang area. Still, it was strange she and Fleur hadn’t recognised them considering they also spent time there. Fleur reached out and grabbed two equal slices of blancmange, handing one to Atlas and keeping the other for herself.

“So, how have you been, cygne?”

“Working. ‘Ard. I want to enter ze tournament,” Fleur said, spooning a mound of the jelly-like substance into her mouth.

“Thought so,” Atlas nodded with a light strained laugh. “Just uh…be careful if you’re picked alright?”

“Of course, ze last time I was hurt under your watch you cried for days!” Fleur smiled and Atlas flushed, recalling the time Fleur had climbed a tree on an excursion day to retrieve a stray cat. She would have used her magic but they hadn’t been on school grounds, so, she instead resolved to climb the death trap. She had fallen when the cat, instead, jumped into Atlas’s arms for salvation and well, long story short, Fleur broke her leg. “Zat was funny.”

“I thought you died!” Atlas cried, dropping her face in her hands, she sighed and ate the last few bites of her desert, turning so she was straddling the bench to say her goodbyes, “Well, I did say I only came over here to say my hello’s. I should go back to my table for the announcement.”

“Oh, yes!” Fleur agreed, kissing both of Atlas’s cheeks. “Try to figure out if you like zis, ‘Ermione. zen you can tell me ‘ow you knew you liked ‘er!”

“Will do Fleur,” Atlas smiled, turning to the rest of the table. “Later girls,” she grinned with a wink, shooting a separate wave to Cho and Luna, the two of them further down the table but still eyeing the exchange. Luna waved back feather-like and Cho simply smiled, turning back to her conversation.

Atlas jogged lightly over to her table sitting down just as the remnants of dessert disappeared. Harry, Ron and Hermione turned to her as she sat. Ron was red, if a little angry looking, Harry looked a little devastated and Hermione was sort of blank, turning her nose away and focusing on the top table. “What?”

“You have…lipstick,” Harry said, motioning to her cheeks.

“Oh,” Atlas murmured and then grabbed a cloth, using it to wipe away the leftover makeup. Harry slowly smiled as he watched her struggle, Ron with a face of offence, as if the action was personally assaulting his person. Hermione glanced her way and sighed, snatching the cloth and dipping it into her water, seemingly eager to rub the lipstick smudges away. “Ow, ow, Hermione, gentle, slower.”

“Shut up,” Hermione hissed, tossing the napkin to the table and crossing her arms. Atlas held at her cheek and looked at Hermione with slightly wide eyes, huffing a bit in disbelief. She was angry and Atlas had not a clue why.

“The moment has come,” Dumbledore’s voice came and Atlas jumped, spinning around her seat to watch the speech. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket -“

“The what?” Atlas heard Harry mutter.

“- just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation” – there was a smattering of polite applause – “and Mr Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

There was a much louder round of applause for Bagman than for Crouch but that was to be expected considering who he was. A famed beater, one of the best when he was in his prime, now the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. It was really no wonder. Crouch had never been a fan favourite, maybe during the First Wizarding War but Atlas didn’t know too much about that.

“Mr Bagman and Mr Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”

At the mention of the word “champions,” Atlas noticed Fred and George high-five over the table, Angelina talking in hushed whispers between herself, Katie and Alicia. Everyone was listening closer than they had, some even slightly standing from their seats in anticipation. “The casket, then, if you please, Mr Filch.”

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old and Atlas distinctly remembered the trunk in Dumbledore’s office after a visit there when she was being sorted into her house. It hadn’t looked like much before, besides the jewels, but maybe that was the art of it. Maybe it was supposed to look discrete, just another object in a wizards office. Many wizards had things like that.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman,” Dumbledore said as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways…their magical prowess – their daring – their powers of deduction – and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

Nobody made a sound. Not even a breath of air echoed across the hall.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament,” Dumbledore went on calmly, “one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup, placing it back on top of the now-closed casket, where its bright blue flames were then revealed to the entire hall. Atlas recognised that cup.

“The Goblet of Fire…” She muttered and her trio turned to her, she waved it off with a smile and continued watching.

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” Dumbledore explained. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

Chatter erupted throughout the Hall after a tense moment and Atlas ran a hand through her hair.

“Well…” she turned to her friends. “This year is about to get crazy…”