Fight! Fight! Fight!
We're "old school," right?
Yeah, but you look older!
Sit down. Please.
Now the moment
you've all been waiting for:
The champion selection.
The Durmstrang champion
is Viktor Krum.
The champion for Beauxbatons...
...is Fleur Delacour.
The Hogwarts champion, Cedric Diggory!
Excellent! We now have
our three champions.
But in the end,
only one will go down in history.
Only one will hoist
this chalice of champions...
...this vessel of victory...
...the Triwizard Cup!
Harry Potter.
Harry Potter?
No. No.
Harry Potter!
Go on, Harry.
Harry, for goodness sake.
He's a cheat!
He's not even 1 7 yet!
-It's wrong, I tell you!
-You French tart.
-Everything is a conspiracy theory with you!
-Quiet! I can't think!
-Everything is a conspiracy theory!
-I protest.
-Harry.
-I protest!
Did you put your name
in the Goblet of Fire?
-No, sir.
-Did you ask one of the older students...
-...to do it for you?
-No, sir.
-You're absolutely sure?
-Yes. Yes, sir.
-But of course he is lying.
-The hell he is!
The Goblet of Fire is an exceptionally
powerful magical object.
Only an exceptionally powerful
Confundus Charm could have hoodwinked it.
Magic way beyond the talents
of a fourth year.
You seem to have given this
a fair bit of thought, Mad-Eye.
It was once my job to think
as dark wizards do, Karkaroff...
-...perhaps you remember.
-This doesn't help, Alastor.
Leave this to you, Barty.
The rules are absolute.
The Goblet of Fire constitutes
a binding magical contract.
Mr. Potter has no choice.
He is, as of tonight...
...a Triwizard champion.
This can't go on, Albus.
First the Dark Mark. Now this?
What do you suggest, Minerva?
Put an end to it.
Don't let Potter compete.
You heard Barty. The rules are clear.
Well, the devil with Barty
and his rules.
And since when did you
accommodate the Ministry?
Headmaster, l, too, find it difficult
to believe this mere coincidence.
However, if we are to truly discover
the meaning of these events...
...perhaps we should,
for the time being...
...Iet them unfold.
What--? Do nothing?
Offer him up as bait?
Potter is a boy, not a piece of meat.
I agree. With Severus.
Alastor, keep an eye on Harry, will you?
-I can do that.
-Don't let him know, though.
He must be anxious enough as it is...
...knowing what lies ahead.
Then again, we all are.
How did you do it?
Never mind. Doesn't matter.
Might've let your best friend know, though.
-Let you know what?
-You know bloody well what.
I didn't ask for this to happen, Ron.
Okay?
-You're being stupid.
-Yeah, that's me.
Ron Weasley,
Harry Potter's stupid friend.
I didn't put my name in that cup.
I don't want eternal glory.
I just wanna be....
Look, I don't know what happened tonight,
and I don't know why.
It just did.
Okay?
Piss off.
What a charismatic quartet.
Hello.
I'm Rita Skeeter.
I write for the Daily Prophet.
But of course you know that, don't you?
It's you we don't know.
You're the juicy news.
What quirks lurk
beneath those rosy cheeks?
What mysteries do the muscles mask?
Does courage lie beneath those curls?
In short, what makes a champion tick?
" Me, Myself & l" want to know.
Not to mention my rabid readers.
So who's feeling up to sharing?
Shall we start with the youngest?
Lovely.
This is cozy.
It's a broom cupboard.
You should feel right at home, then.
Don't mind if I use
a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you?
No.
So tell me, Harry.
Here you sit, a mere boy of 1 2--
I'm 1 4. Sorry.
--about to compete
against three students...
...not only vastly more
emotionally mature than yourself...
...but who have mastered spells
that you wouldn't attempt...
...in your dizziest daydreams.
Concerned?
I don't know.
I haven't really thought about it.
Just ignore the quill.
Then, of course,
you're no ordinary boy of 1 2, are you?
-Fourteen.
-Your story's legend.
Do you think it was
the trauma of your past...
...that made you so keen to enter
such a dangerous tournament?
No, I didn't enter.
Of course you didn't.
Everyone loves a rebel, Harry.
Scratch that last.
Speaking of your parents, were they alive,
how do you think they'd feel?
Proud? Or concerned...
...that your attitude shows, at best,
a pathological need for attention...
...at worst, a psychotic death wish?
Hey, my eyes aren't
"glistening with the ghosts of my past."
Harry, I couldn 't risk sending Hedwig.
Since the World Cup, the Ministry's
been intercepting more and more owls...
...and she 's too easily recognized.
We need to talk, Harry, face-to-face.
Meet me in the Gryffindor common room,
1 :00 this Saturday night.
And make sure you 're alone.
Sirius.
P. S.:
The bird bites.
Sirius?
Harry Potter, age 1 2......suspect entrant
in the Triwizard Tournament.
His eyes swimming
with the ghosts of his past......and choking back tears....
Sirius. How--?
I don ' t have much time,
so let me get straight to it.
Did you or did you not put your name
into the Goblet of Fire?
No!
I had to ask.
Now, tell me about this dream of yours.
You mentioned Wormtail and Voldemort.
But who was the third man in the room?
-I don't know.
-You didn't hear a name?
No.
Voldemort was giving him a job to do.
Something important.
And what was that?
He wanted......me.
I don't know why. But he was
gonna use this man to get to me.
But, I mean, it was only a dream, right?
Yes.
It's just a dream.
Look, Harry.
The Death Eaters at the World Cup,
your name rising from that goblet...
...these are not just coincidences.
Hogwarts isn't safe anymore.
What are you saying?
I'm saying the devils are inside
the walls. Igor Karkaroff?
He was a Death Eater. And no one,
no one stops being a Death Eater.
Then there's Barty Crouch. Heart of stone.
Sent his own son to Azkaban.
You think one of them
put my name in the goblet?
I haven't a clue who put your name
in that goblet......but whoever did is no friend to you.
People die in this tournament.
-I'm not ready for this, Sirius.
-You don't have a choice.
-Someone's coming.
-Keep your friends close, Harry.
Who were you talking to?
-What? Who says I was talking to anyone?
-I heard voices.
Maybe you're imagining things.
Wouldn't be the first time.
You're probably just practicing
for your next interview, I expect.
Amazing.
-Amazing!