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Max was about to walk through the door, and the Headmaster began to speak his closing speech as the goblet flashed red again, only brighter than before. Another parchment flew out of the goblet, and the hall fell silent again.

The Headmaster intercepted the burnt piece of paper and stared at the text for a long time. Everyone stared at the Headmaster. Coughing, he finally read:

"Harry Potter."

A gloomy silence hung in the hall - it seemed as if from one end of the hall, one could hear the beating of a wizard's heart at the other end.

"Harry Potter! Is there a Harry Potter in the hall?"

The boy stood up uncertainly, looking at everyone around him with incomprehension.

"And why am I not surprised?" came Max's voice in the silence, halfway through that very door.

A medium-sized cozy room with a fireplace, sofas and armchairs, tables with all sorts of snacks, and small incomprehensible artifacts turned into the epicenter of heated debate. We, three school champions, listened to the headmasters and teachers bicker with each other. There was Harry Potter, the culprit of all the confusion, and Moody, and Snape, tirelessly blaming Potter for everything, arguing very simply: "It's Potter's fault, I know it is, it's always his fault." Poor Ludo Bagman, a rather simple big man with a baby face, didn't know what to do - his eternal cheerfulness had no place here, which made the wizard seem superfluous to himself. Crouch Senior, stern, prim and businesslike, just stood by and watched.

"That's not fair, Dumbledore!" shouted some.

"What the f*ck, Dumbledore, you have two champions," said others.

"It's all a set-up and cheating, and this is after so many negotiations and concessions!" rebuked a third.

"Whoever threw Harry's name into the cup unequivocally wants him dead!" no word lied Moody.

"Dumbledore is God, and the rest of you are bastards!" McGonagall defended the Headmaster.

The crowd seemed to believe the guy that he didn't throw his name by himself, didn't ask anyone to throw his name, and stuff like that. By the way, Fleur Delacour didn't call me a "little boy," unlike Harry, but she did say that I was too young for the tournament. She also said that they had been preparing for six months - very useful information. Why hasn't anyone trained here?

In general, Crouch said - participates. At this point, the topic was closed, and all satisfied and dissatisfied went to their rooms/ships/carriages. I was no exception and went with Potter to the House common room. The Great Hall has long been empty.

"I didn't put my name..." muttered Potter resentfully on the way to the common room.

"Who cares? No one will believe you anyway."

"But it's the truth!"

"Who needs it, the truth... Be glad the legal champion is a Gryffindor too."

"Why should I be glad that you are a champion?" Potter looked at me with dislike.

"If he was from a different House, you would be their number one enemy, like the rest of Gryffindor."

As soon as we walked into the common room, we were literally surrounded by a crowd of happy Gryffindors, and many of them were already tipsy. Congratulations were heard from all sides, all sorts of exclamations, the meaning of which was not possible to isolate from the general heap of sounds. Potter denied everything - no one believed him. The boys threw a feast in our honor - Harry left. I didn't celebrate long, either - I sat next to Hermione for about thirty minutes, answering questions, and then we went to our rooms.

The Sunday morning began, as usual, with a jog, during which Hermione and I noticed Krum jogging by the lake. It might have seemed like he was the only one of the entire Durmstrang running, but no - like warriors, in a column of two, the others were also running, but behind. We took a slightly different route.

We reached the common room sweaty and barely alive again - me because of the deliberate weakening by hemomancy, and Hermione... Hm, why?

"Everything okay?" I asked the panting, barely alive girl. At first, she used to take notes in her notebook after such runs, but she stopped recently.

"I don't know... ugh... Let's talk later..."

"Okay, then."

After the shower, we met again in the common room, but it was still about half an hour before breakfast, so after sitting down on our couch, we decided to go over our homework with a quick glance.

"So what happened?" I asked, having finished revising my notes.

"I don't understand at all," Hermione grimaced as she put her things in her bag. "Let's go to breakfast. I'll tell you on the way."

As we left the common room, we continued our conversation, trying not to pay attention to the other students who were paying too much attention to me.

"I can't seem to get my magic to work properly," Hermione complained. "I've tried everything, and the only result is an acceleration of perception. How do you do it?"

"Honestly? I don't know. I just do it. Maybe it's because I know a little anatomy and physiology?"

"I don't think so," she shook her head, and a couple of strands broke free from the hair at the back of her head and were immediately tucked behind her ear. "I've read the textbooks on anatomy, physiology, and biochemistry. Though there were some comprehension problems with the last two, it didn't make any difference at all."

"You know, I don't have much to say here. Lady Greengrass is capable of accelerating on par with me, well, or a little weaker. I think when she finally decides to make contact, I'll be sure to ask about that point."

"Okay. Thanks, Max."

"No problem."