Dumbledore’s ntion of the champions imdiately reignited every young wizard’s excitent for the Triwizard Tournant.
Everyone present understood exactly what it ant to beco a Hogwarts Champion.
Beyond the chance to grab the spotlight, it proved you were far more exceptional than your peers—otherwise, you wouldn’t be chosen at all.
Realistically, even if you didn’t defeat the champions from the other two schools, the experience alone was invaluable. As long as you perford decently, securing a position in the Ministry of Magic after graduation wouldn’t be difficult.
So even believed it could earn extra points in the future when competing for the role of Chief Auror. As a result, whether they sought glory or a stable future, every young wizard stared up at Dumbledore with burning anticipation, each imagining themselves as the perfect candidate...
But obviously, the Champion selection wasn’t sothing Dumbledore alone decided, nor could any professor simply recomnd soone.
“Mr. Filch, please bring the box forward.”
No one had noticed where Filch had been hiding, but the mont Dumbledore spoke, the caretaker appeared with a large wooden box inlaid with gems. He approached from behind and set it carefully on the table before Dumbledore.
Only then did everyone finally see the box—ordinary-looking despite its decoration.
As every gaze locked onto it, Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles, not attempting to restrain the students’ curiosity. “As you already know, we will have three champions participating in the tournant, each representing one of the competing schools.”
The hall went utterly silent. It was as if every wizard had stopped breathing.
They all sensed this was the mont that would determine who the champions would be.
“We will score them based on how well they perform in each task. After all three tasks, the champion with the highest total score will win the Triwizard Cup. And the impartial entity responsible for choosing the champions is…”
Dumbledore drew his wand and tapped the lid of the box three tis.
“The Goblet of Fire!!”
...
Doubt.
Suspicion.
Hardly any wizard had imagined that whether they could beco their school’s representative would end up being decided by… a cup.
If the person standing on the platform weren’t Dumbledore, soone would definitely have questioned how fair that sounded...
“This cup?”
“For selection?”
In the wizarding world, not even Nicolas Flal, who had lived for over six hundred years, would dare claim he knew every magical artifact in existence.
Draco certainly wouldn’t. Even though he had thrown himself into studying magic these past few years—his knowledge already surpassing that of many adult wizards—he still couldn’t tell what the Goblet of Fire actually did when it appeared in front of them.
So when the two girls beside him turned curious eyes on him, Draco genuinely had no answer.
He touched his chin lightly with his fingertips.
“The blue-white flas, and the magical energy they give off… it might really be able to choose suitable candidates.”
“If you say so, Draco, then it must be right.”
“So this thing that just looks like a cup is really that amazing?”
Trusting a wizard her own age more than the greatest wizard—this completely opposite attitude made Fleur Delacour’s gaze flicker oddly from the corner of her eye.
Unaware that they were being overheard, Pansy and Hermione had already moved on to another topic...
“So, Draco, are you going to enter?”
“Yeah. If it’s you, you’ll definitely win the championship easily.”
“How about it? No matter what the task is, Granger and I will help you.”
The Slytherin students nearby didn’t voice a single objection. So even nodded unconsciously, clearly in full agreent.
Fleur Delacour’s delicate little face puffed up slightly.
But to Fleur Delacour, a student of Beauxbatons, those words were anything but pleasant.
In fact, saying sothing like that right in front of a Beauxbatons student was outright provocation. She couldn’t help suspecting they were doing it on purpose.
After all, they hadn’t co here for a holiday. They were here to compete.
The Beauxbatons students who had followed Fleur Delacour to the Slytherin table also showed clear displeasure. If Fleur hadn’t stayed still, and if Pansy and Hermione weren’t both quite pretty, they would probably have caused a scene already.
However...
“Who knew Hogwarts would not only be freezing and serve awful food, but also be full of such arrogant students? Truly disappointing.”
“……”
“……”
Pansy and Hermione, who had been waiting for Draco’s answer, both froze when they heard that.
They turned and finally noticed the witch across from them—likely of Veela descent—lifting her chin and staring in their direction.
Pansy’s eyebrow arched, and she was just about to ask what exactly that was supposed to an when Dumbledore’s voice rolled through the hall and into every wizard’s ears...
“Every student who wishes to stand as a Champion must write their na and school na on a piece of parchnt and drop it into the Goblet of Fire placed before you. Those who wish to beco Champions have twenty-four hours to enter. On Halloween night, the Goblet will select the three Champions it deems most worthy to represent the three schools.”
“But take note...”
With that pause, the air seed to grow suddenly heavy.
“This tournant is not a ga. Do not enter it rashly. Once a Champion is chosen by the Goblet of Fire, they must see the competition through to the end. Placing your na in the Goblet forms a binding and magical contract. Once you beco a Champion, you are not allowed to change your mind. Therefore, think very carefully. Be sure you truly and wholeheartedly wish to compete before placing your na into the Goblet of Fire.”
“Lastly, I wish you all a pleasant al.”
Even after Dumbledore left the Great Hall, the young wizards still hadn’t recovered from the heavy, solemn speech they’d just heard.
The last ti Dumbledore had been this serious was probably when the Dentors broke into the Quidditch Pitch.
They hadn’t expected to feel that sa weight again today...
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