Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones

Chapter 296 Goblet of Fire

As the banquet drew to a close, a huge object was carried into the banquet hall and placed directly in front of the teachers' seats.

"The moment has finally arrived," Dumbledore said excitedly, standing up and smiling at the sullen faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin, but before it officially starts, I'd like to explain a few things—"

"—I'd like to explain our program for this academic year. But first, please allow me to introduce our two guests, as some of you may not recognize them. This is Mr. Barty Crouch, Director of International Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic."

Sparse applause rang out in the auditorium.

"This is Mr. Ludobagman, Director of the Department of Physical Education and Sports at the Ministry of Magic."

The applause for Bagman was much louder than that for Mr. Crouch, perhaps because he was somewhat well-known as a batsman, or perhaps simply because he looked much more approachable. He waved his hand cheerfully in thanks.

When Barty Crouch's name was introduced, Crouch neither smiled nor waved; he simply nodded indifferently, which was his greeting.

“Over the past few months, Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly to arrange the Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued. “They will join me, Professor Karkaroff, and Mrs. Maxime as the judges to evaluate the warriors’ efforts.”

Upon hearing the word "warrior," the students seemed to concentrate even more. Dumbledore seemed to notice their sudden silence as well, and with a slight smile, he said:

"Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman have carefully reviewed the specific events for the warriors' competition this year. They have also made many necessary arrangements for each event. There are three events in total, which will be held at different times throughout the school year. They will test the warriors in many different ways... test their magical talents! Their courage and their reasoning abilities, and of course, their ability to overcome danger."

After hearing the last sentence, the auditorium became silent, and it seemed that everyone stopped breathing.

“As you already know, there will be three champions participating in the competition,” Dumbledore continued calmly. “Each will represent one of the participating schools. We will score them based on the quality of their performance in each competition event. After the three events, the champion with the highest score will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be selected by a fair selector, the Goblet of Fire.”

At this point, Dumbledore waved his hand, beckoning to the huge box placed in front of the teachers' table—

The lid slowly creaked open, like a pagoda, and smaller boxes rose one by one from the larger box, until finally—

A heavy, roughly carved stone cup rises from within.

The cup itself is unremarkable, but inside it, blue and white flames dance.

“Every student who wishes to run for champion must write their name on a piece of parchment and drop it into this goblet,” Dumbledore announced. “Anyone aspiring to be a champion may register within twenty-four hours. Tomorrow night, Halloween night, the goblet will select the names of the three students it deems most worthy of representing the three schools. Tonight, the goblet will be placed in the foyer, where all students who wish to run can touch it.”

“To prevent underage students from succumbing to temptation,” Dumbledore said, “after the goblet is placed in the foyer, I will draw an age line around it. No one under the age of seventeen shall cross that line.”

"Finally, I want to remind everyone who is running for the title that this competition is not a game. Don't participate rashly. Once a warrior is chosen by the Goblet of Fire, they must persevere to the end. Whoever throws their name into the goblet forms a magical contract that must be followed. Once you become a warrior, you cannot change your mind. Therefore, please think carefully and make sure you are truly determined to participate before throwing your name into the goblet. Alright, I think everyone should go to sleep now. Good night."

“Age limit!” Fred Weasley said on the way to the dormitory, his eyes sparkling. “That’s easy. We’ll definitely be fooled by the age-defying agent, won’t we? As long as your name is in that cup, you can laugh happily. It can’t tell who’s seventeen and who’s not!”

At this moment, the students all walked through the auditorium toward the two doors leading to the foyer.

“But I don’t think anyone under seventeen can win,” Hermione said. “We haven’t learned enough—”

“You’re talking about yourself,” George said impatiently. “You’ll be trying to get in too, won’t you, Tierra?”

“That’s a reward of a thousand Galleons!” Fred said again.

“I, oh no, I—” Tierra said as she walked, but suddenly—

Tiera paused for a moment.

Just now, absolutely just now, Tiera suddenly sensed someone, or something, passing through the bustling corridor.

Tierra paused for a moment, but then quickened her pace—

At the same time, he stopped looking around.

For some reason, just as Tiera was about to look around, his mental barrier, which had already reached seven layers, seemed to become precarious in an instant.

So Tiera suppressed her curiosity and prepared to leave as soon as possible.

"Where is he?" Ron asked blankly. "Dumbledore didn't say where Durmstrang's representatives sleep, did he?"

Ron didn't hear a word they said, focusing only on searching for Krum in the crowd.

However, his question was answered almost immediately—

They saw Karkarov hurry up to his students.

“Alright, let’s get back to the ship,” he said. “Victor, how are you feeling? Have you eaten? Should I send someone to bring some mulled wine from the galley?”

Harry saw Krum shake his head and put his fur cloak back on.

“Professor, I’d like some wine,” another student from Durmstrang said, his mouth watering.

“I didn’t ask you, Poliako,” Kakarov said sternly.

His gentle, fatherly expression vanished instantly. "I noticed you've spilled food on the front of your robe again, you naughty boy—"

Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the door, arriving just as Tyrell, Harry, Ron, and Hermione reached it. Harry stopped to let Karkaroff go first.

“Thank you,” Karkaroff said casually, glancing at Harry.

Karkarov was completely stunned.

He turned his head back to Harry, staring intently at him as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

Durmstrang's students, following behind the headmaster, also stopped in their tracks. Karkaroff's gaze slowly shifted to Harry's face, fixing on the scar.

Durmstrang's students also looked at Harry curiously, and out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see that several of them had a knowing look on their faces.

The boy with soup stains all over his chest nudged a white-haired girl next to him and pointed at Harry's forehead without any attempt to hide it.

"Hurry up, Karkaroff!" At this moment, Lady Rosie pushed Karkaroff and said impatiently, "What's so interesting about a little boy who defeated the village terrorists? Voldemort will either be killed by this brat or die from his own stupidity. Don't stand here blocking the way!"

“Oh…yes, yes, Mrs. Rosie.” Karkaroff deflated like a punctured balloon, speaking hesitantly before turning and continuing to walk towards the door without looking back.

The other Durmstrang students followed behind, but they all gave Harry a few curious glances.

Especially the two white-haired girls, one looked at Harry with curiosity, while the other looked at him with disdain.

(End of this chapter)