After breakfast the students began filing out of the Great Hall to attend their morning classes. The atmosphere was light and filled with excitement, for everyone already knew that after lessons were done, the rest of the day would be given over to free time and to the great anticipation of the Goblet of Fire continuing to accept names. Hogwarts was buzzing with speculation.
The visiting students were living by their own rhythm. The Beauxbatons delegation carried on with their independent study and magical exercises within their elegant carriage on the grounds. They were not required to follow Hogwarts' lessons, as their main purpose was to represent their school and prepare for the competition. Across the Black Lake the Durmstrang students resided aboard their enchanted ship, which seemed half-phantom against the mist on the water. They too trained privately under the eye of their formidable headmaster Igor Karkaroff.
Eira, however, was bound by Hogwarts' usual routine. She walked with Tracey Davis and the rest of the Slytherin Fourth-years down to the Charms classroom. The chamber buzzed with chatter, the tables full, and Professor Flitwick, perched on his stack of books, greeted them with his usual bright enthusiasm.
"Today," Flitwick announced, "we shall continue with summoning charms, and, since the Triwizard Tournament is underway, I think it would be delightful to discuss a few stories from tournaments long past." His eyes shone as he launched into a tale about a clever witch from the 1792 Tournament who attempted to summon an enchanted harp guarded by a maze of shifting staircases. The harp was said to lull even the fiercest creatures to sleep, but the staircases themselves resisted every spell, moving faster each time she tried. With wit rather than force, she finally summoned the harp by calling not for the object itself, but for the music it played—drawing it into her hands as invisible notes became strings of gold.
The students listened in various states of wonder and mischief. After the story came practice, and books and quills were soon rolling across the tables as everyone tried the Summoning Charm. Eira, with a flick of her wand and perfect incantation, called her own quill neatly into her hand.
While they worked, Eira leaned closer to Tracey, keeping her voice low. "So, tell me. Who from our house is putting their name into the Goblet? Do you know?"
Tracey tapped her wand against her parchment, lowering her voice in response. "From Slytherin? At least four already did. Gemma, our prefect, Adrian Pucey, Graham Montague, and Cassius Warrington. I didn't see it myself, but some of the older years said so."
Eira's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "And what about the other houses?"
Tracey shrugged. "I am not sure. Probably during lunch we will see more. I bet Gryffindor will be noisy about it."
Their whispers carried just a little too long. A throat cleared behind them, polite but pointed. Both girls froze. Slowly, they turned their heads and found Professor Flitwick standing right there at the edge of their desk, his tiny arms folded, his eyes shining in a teasing manner.
"Ahem. Ladies," he said, his voice rising just enough to make them straighten. "I see you two have had a very lively conversation during my lesson."
Eira blinked, realizing at once that the rest of the class was already on its way out. Books were being packed, chairs pushed back, and the cheerful noise of departure filled the room. Tracey gasped and then coughed lightly, attempting a poor disguise.
"Oh, sorry Professor," she rushed to say. "Eira was having trouble with the Accio spell, so I was just explaining it to her."
Eira closed her eyes and tapped her forehead with her palm. She could not believe what she had just heard.
Professor Flitwick raised his brows, clearly amused, for he knew very well the level of Eira's spellwork. "I see. Well then, Miss Davis, next time when you are so kind as to explain the spell to your friend, do try to keep your focus. There is no need to add discussions about boys in the middle of charms practice."
Eira opened her mouth, ready to protest, but Flitwick's voice carried cheerfully once again. "Off you go. It is lunch time." He turned away, letting the matter drop.
Tracey wasted no time packing her things. She grinned at Eira, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Thank Merlin he believed it," she whispered.
Eira shook her head and rose, gathering her book. "Do you really think a man who has taught thousands of students over decades would believe your flimsy excuse?"
Tracey laughed softly. "It does not matter. He is the best professor, which means he is also kind. He will forgive us easily. Now come on, let us go to the Great Hall. Maybe we will see who else dares to put their name in the Goblet."
Eira sighed, but she could not help the faint smile tugging her lips. She slung her bag over her shoulder and followed Tracey out of the classroom, the chatter of students filling the corridor as they all hurried toward lunch and the next spectacle of the day.