firecracker ???

The start-of-term feast was winding down, but the air in the Great Hall still buzzed like a charm gone warm. Candles floated above full plates, dessert dishes shimmered with the last of their glamour, and Dumbledore stood, serene as ever, behind the golden podium.

Beside Lyra, Pansy was still dissecting someone's outfit across the room. Blaise lazily peeled an apple with his wand. Draco had drifted into a sullen silence ever since Montague's name had been mentioned on the train, though he perked up enough to scowl whenever Potter so much as breathed. 

She could feel Potter two tables over. His gaze had been persistent lately. Not in a flirtatious way, not really. But present. Intrusive. Like he was waiting for something she hadn't promised to give.

Dumbledore rose at last, arms spreading in his usual theatre.

"Welcome!" he called, voice warm and buoyant. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have only a few start-of-term notices, and then I shall let you all get to your food, your beds, and your delightful teenage dramas."

Polite laughter echoed across the room. Lyra smiled faintly. It never reached her eyes.

"As ever, the Forbidden Forest remains forbidden to all students—yes, even those with adventurous tendencies."

There was a pointed look toward the Gryffindor table, where Weasley and Potter sat whispering like they'd been told to keep a secret they never agreed to.

Her gaze lingered there — briefly.

Harry wasn't laughing. He was watching Dumbledore intently, eyes narrowed just slightly, elbow against the table, chin propped in his palm.

He looked different this year. She found it odd, it wasn't like she hadn't seen him mere days ago.

Not taller, not necessarily older — but settled. Like something had rearranged itself beneath his skin over the summer. Confidence, maybe. Or recklessness.

She wasn't sure yet.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"And now — the real reason I asked for your attention."

A quiet rolled through the hall. Even the ghosts stopped drifting.

"This year," Dumbledore said slowly, "Hogwarts will be hosting a most exceptional event. An event that has not taken place for over a century. The Triwizard Tournament."

Gasps.

The Gryffindor table broke into an immediate buzz. Ravenclaw leaned in. Hufflepuff jolted upright. Even the Slytherin table murmured.

Lyra didn't flinch. She just looked up.

"The Tournament," Dumbledore explained, "will bring to Hogwarts two other great wizarding schools—Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. One champion will be selected from each."

"And what do they win?" Draco muttered from across the table.

Lyra didn't look at him. "Survival."

"There will be three tasks, each designed to test skill, nerve, and magic," Dumbledore continued. "The champions will be selected by the impartial judge, the Goblet of Fire, which will be placed in the Entrance Hall exactly a month from now when our delegations arrive. For safety reasons, no student under the age of seventeen may submit their name. "

Draco groaned audibly. "That's absurd—"

"You'll live." Lyra said.

"They'll regret that age line," he grumbled. "If they'd just let me—"

"Trip over your shoelaces and die in the First Task?" Lyra offered.

"I'd win the First Task before breakfast."