<div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>Special Event</strong></span></span></div><br/><hr/><br/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3c/66/68/3c6668e4f189374fc85367767efec7f4.jpg)</div><div class="floatright">(https://data.whicdn.com/images/10691303/large.jpg)</div><div align="center">On the morning of the first of November, it was discovered that the legendary goblet of fire had been destroyed. There was no evidence left behind as to who the culprit may have been, other than the splinters and shards of ancient wood. They were methodically placed on the ground to spell out a cryptic message:<br/><br/><strong>NOT AGAIN</strong>. <br/><br/>The Minister of Magic discovered the remains of the goblet early that morning. She had been waking at approximately 4:30 every morning ever since she took to her newest ranks. In the torchlight, she wandered to the staff table, intent on sitting down to nurse her much needed cup of tea. However, the sight alone made her drop her mug, causing the china to shatter, joining the dusty debris already piled up. Hermione's mouth dropped open, a slight shock working over her.<br/><br/>Though there had been some protesters who made their opinions about the tournament known, Hermione still had not expected anything like this to transpire. She bristled as she grabbed hold of her wand, suddenly feeling the temperature plunge around her. With a flick of her wrist, she concentrated and after a flourish of her arm, magically produced a trail of recent disturbances. The dust particles swept upward, glittering and sparkling as the physical evidence manifested.<br/><br/>She searched for footprints, fingerprints, any marking or indication that would explain what happened to the goblet of fire. But, there were no prints of any kind. Hermione's face dropped. Turning around, she glanced up at the ceiling, where the champions names had previously been displayed. Now, those slips of paper with the names scrawled upon them, were gone. Burned scraps of parchment were all that remained, raining from the roof, which reflected the inky sky beyond. <br/><br/>As she turned to face the rest of the great hall, she saw a ghostly and pale figure standing there. It was the familiar, pained face of Cedric Diggory. He was no more than a specter now, a ghost who was stuck barely living for the rest of eternity. She just looked at him, expecting he had something to say. <br/><br/>"I curse you, Hermione." Cedric's gruff voice barked out. Then, he crumpled himself up into a ball of shadowy light, and disappeared. <br/></div>