Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 300 Goblet of Fire

"But Hogwarts' historical heritage is unmatched by any other school."

Hermione was annoyed by the Beauxbatons students because when Dumbledore stood up to give his welcoming address, a Beauxbatons girl made a mocking sound.
"They don't need to use sarcastic laughter to prove their superiority when Dumbledore is speaking."

“…Welcome to Hogwarts! I hope and believe you will feel comfortable and at ease here,” said Dumbledore. “The Tournament will begin at the end of the banquet. I now invite you all to eat and drink to your heart's content, as if you were in your own home!”

Dumbledore's down-to-earth nature made him seem less authoritative than other headmasters, but this style clearly made Hogwarts' atmosphere much more welcoming to students than other schools.

So when Beauxbatons' students pointed fingers at Dumbledore, Ravenclaw's students bluntly reminded them to show more respect to Professor Dumbledore.

"Why is Karkaroff staring this way?" Harry asked Cohen, puzzled, looking at Karkaroff who was intently staring at the Gryffindor table. "And why are there two empty seats in the teachers' table?"

Given Karkaroff's past as a Death Eater, Harry initially thought Voldemort was up to something again—but his scar didn't hurt at all.

"You're naturally beautiful," Cohen said dismissively.

It was obvious that Karkaroff was looking in Cohen's direction and was warily whispering something to Dumbledore.

However, Dumbledore didn't answer much, and simply smiled at Karkaroff's whispers.

The banquet began, and their plates were piled high with food. The house-elves in the kitchen had gone all out this time—there were now many dishes they had never seen before, and most of the new dishes were of foreign flavor.

"What's that?" Ron's attention shifted from Krum to the plate of seafood stew in front of him.

“French mixed fish soup,” Hermione said.

"Wow!" Ron exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. "How does it taste?"

"It's quite delicious," Hermione said, pursing her lips. "But it has a lot of bones."

“I’ll give it a try—” Ron eagerly scooped a spoonful of food from each pot in front of him.

Halfway through the banquet, Durmstrang students took off their fur cloaks, revealing their blood-red school uniform robes, and Beauxbatons students stopped covering their faces with scarves.

One of them was an exceptionally beautiful girl with long, cascading silver hair that reached her waist. She had bright blue eyes and a set of clean, white teeth.

Even though Cohen had never met her, he could easily tell that this French student, Fleur de Lacourt, had Veela blood.

"Excuse me, do you still want this dish of mixed fish soup?" Furong walked over to their table and asked them.

Ron stared at her blankly, his face flushed, his throat hissing and unable to utter a sound.

“Here you go.” Harry pushed the fish soup toward her.

"Ronald, can't you be a little more capable!" After Fleur left, Hermione pinched Ron's thigh in exasperation and scolded him in a low voice.

"Cough—cough—" Ron's face grew redder and redder, accompanied by coughing.

"What's wrong?" Harry sensed something was amiss.

"Small fry..."

Cohen reluctantly drew his wand, aimed it at Ron's throat, and cast a softening spell.

Ron was finally able to swallow the fishbone.

“That—that plate of mixed fish soup—” Ron said hoarsely, rubbing his throat, unaware that Cohen’s “mixed fish” actually referred to something other than mixed fish soup.

“If it’s really that delicious, Fred has another plate…” Harry said weakly, “but you’ve already choked on a thorn once, do you really want to keep eating…” “No, no—” Ron said in a hoarse voice, “That girl—she’s definitely a Veela!”

“Definitely not,” Hermione said sharply. “I haven’t seen anyone staring at her like an idiot except you.”

“It seems like other students have the same symptoms…” Harry pointed to a few Ravenclaw boys who were also staring blankly at the silver-haired girl, just like Ron had been earlier—except they hadn’t choked on a fishbone.

“Let Cohen judge,” Ron said, unconvinced. “He’s good at identifying magical creatures—there’s no girl like that at Hogwarts.”

"You look like a magical creature to me," Cohen said irritably. "Are you using me as a magical creature detector?"

“Who said Hogwarts doesn’t have one?” Harry said, looking at the Ravenclaw table. “I think Ravenclaw’s Cho Chang is pretty good.”

“If you could look away from Miss Veela and Krum and anything else, you’d see why there are two extra seats in the teachers’ table,” Hermione said, clearly annoyed.

She pointed to the teachers' seats for the three boys.

“Crouch and…Fudge?” Cohen frowned.

Should Fudge be on the referee's bench for the Triwizard Tournament?

That can't be right, can a minister really have that much free time?

We really need to control Edward properly then...

"What are they here for?" Harry asked in surprise.

“The referees, they’re the ones who organized the Triwizard Tournament, aren’t they?” Hermione said. “But I originally thought it was Ludo Bagman and Mr. Crouch…”

“Ludo Bagman can’t come.” Ron seemed to have known this all along, and looked at the other three with some surprise. “Didn’t you know? He’s been suspended and is under investigation for selling a ticket to the penthouse to that dark wizard who’s planning a terrorist attack.”

“How can Fudge be so free?” Cohen looked at Fudge, but Fudge didn’t seem to want to look at Cohen. “But judging from his appearance, he seems to be holding onto his ministerial position quite securely. He doesn’t seem to have experienced any decline in his quality of life.”

Since he failed to take down the leader last time, it's good that he's here for the three-way battle—it makes it easier for Cohen to pull off another one.

After the banquet, the golden plates were swept away by the elves' magic, and Dumbledore stood up again.

“The moment has finally come,” Dumbledore said, smiling at the students. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin. I’d like to explain a few things first, then bring the box in—”

Dumbledore paused for a moment before introducing the two guests who had taken their seats in the faculty section: Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge and Director of International Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic Barty Crouch.

Fudge still had bandages on his ears, seemingly trying to create the image of a great wizard who was wounded in the fight against the dark wizard.

But nobody cared—the students didn't care about ministers or officials at all; all they cared about was the thrilling competition.

"This year's competition has undergone rigorous review by the Ministry of Magic, and many necessary arrangements have been made for it," Dumbledore said. "There are three competitions in total, held at different times throughout the school year. They will test the warriors in many different ways, their magical talents, courage, reasoning abilities, and of course, their ability to overcome danger."

"There will be three warriors, each representing a participating school in the competition. We will score them based on the quality of their performance in the competition events. After the three events are completed, the warrior with the highest score will win the Triwizard Cup. The person in charge of selecting the warriors is a fair selector, the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore tapped the box that Filch had brought in with his wand, and the box slowly opened. He took out a huge, roughly carved wooden goblet with blue and white flames dancing around its rim.

Cohen stared at the cup, trying to decipher the various incantations and alchemical patterns on it.

It's too easy for the villains—this thing has a lot of loopholes; it can't bind voters to the names on the ballots, and a powerful self-confusing spell is all it takes to fool the cup.

It would definitely be safer if it were made by Nicolas Flamel.

(End of this chapter)