But in the clockwork of that moment, in the 123rd second after the goblet’s final spark, Harry saw something no one else noticed: a tiny, silver thread linking the cup’s rim to the hem of Mad-Eye Moody’s cloak.
“Harry Potter,” he read aloud.
The Goblet of Fire flared blue for the third time that night. One hundred twenty-three names had been submitted. One hundred twenty-three slips of parchment had turned to ash in its ancient flames. harry potter and the goblet of fire 123