Chapter 492: The International Wizarding Championship
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"Allow
to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Alastor Moody."
The applause that followed was thin and halfhearted, barely polite. Between his scarred face and the ominous tone of his earlier remarks, it was obvious this wasn’t going to be a gentle, easygoing teacher.
At the Slytherin table, several students had gone pale. Shock and unease flickered across their faces.
They knew exactly who Alastor Moody was.
How could they not?
Plenty of their relatives had been personally hauled off to Azkaban by that man. Whenever his na ca up at ho, their parents spoke through clenched teeth, sotis with more hatred than they reserved for Dumbledore himself.
Back in the day, there had been a saying in the Ministry and throughout magical Britain: half the cells in Azkaban were filled by Moody, and the other half by Crouch.
And now he was a professor.
Several young Slytherins silently decided they were writing ho tonight to complain.
Reason? Simple. The man was too terrifying to be allowed near children.
Suddenly, Moody, who had been slicing into a sausage, lifted his head without warning. His magical blue eye spun at an impossible angle and locked onto the Slytherin table. The students who had just been glaring at him dropped their gazes instantly, panic flashing across their faces.
He seed about to issue so kind of warning before returning to his lamb chops.
At that exact mont, Tom looked up as well.
Their gazes t.
Moody felt as if a needle had stabbed straight into his magical eye. The thing wasn’t even connected to his optic nerve anymore, but pain still flared instinctively. A strangled grunt escaped him before he could stop it.
Several professors looked over in confusion. Moody quickly smothered the reaction and offered no explanation.
Only Albus Dumbledore had seen the brief exchange clearly. He sighed inwardly.
Moody had taken a subtle jab at Tom earlier. Given the boy’s temperant, this level of retaliation was almost mild. Dumbledore couldn’t very well interfere. He could only hope it ended there and the two of them would keep their distance.
He understood why Moody distrusted Tom. The old Auror had seen too much darkness to trust easily. Tom’s previous actions had already unsettled him, and the massacre at the World Cup had cented his belief that Tom would beco the next Voldemort.
They had argued about it more than once.
But Dumbledore disagreed.
He had examined the situation from every angle. If he had been in Tom’s position, perhaps he would have chosen differently. But he could not call Tom’s actions wrong. Nor could he call them evil.
This was not the sa as Voldemort’s indiscriminate slaughter. Dumbledore’s true concern had always been whether excessive killing would twist Tom’s soul and drag him down into becoming a dark wizard enslaved by his own magic.
Yet the boy was as lively as ever, unaffected.
That had reassured him.
...
When the students had eaten their fill and the last scraps vanished from the plates, Dumbledore rose again. This was tradition. At every start-of-term feast, he had announcents.
First ca the newly added school rules and Filch’s updated list of banned items, most of which were new products from joke shops.
Then Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"I regret to inform you that there will be no Quidditch Cup this year."
"Wh-WHAT?!" Students from all four tables shot to their feet.
"You heard correctly," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "Over the coming months, we will have the great honor of hosting an extraordinary event. As we did earlier last year, we will welco friends from around the world to Hogwarts, and together we shall strive toward a common goal."
"I am delighted to announce that the Triwizard Tournant will be held this year."
"You’re joking!" Fred shouted.
"I assure you, Mr. Weasley, I am not joking." Dumbledore bead. "Though now that you ntion it, I did hear an excellent joke over the sumr about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat sharply.
The hall fell into a collective, awkward silence.
Tom blinked. He had little interest in what Dumbledore was about to say next. But he would have liked to hear the rest of that joke. It sounded like it might have been... educational.
"For those unfamiliar with the Triwizard Tournant," Dumbledore continued smoothly, "allow
to explain. Founded roughly seven hundred years ago, it was a friendly competition between the three largest magical schools in Europe. Each school selected one champion to face a series of difficult and dangerous tasks, all in pursuit of glory."
"However, the challenges grew too perilous. The casualty rate beca unacceptable, and the Tournant was discontinued over a century ago."
Students buzzed excitedly at their tables.
This reaction was not what Dumbledore had hoped for. He had emphasized the danger deliberately, intending to instill caution and gravity.
But he had overlooked sothing.
How many people could a competition possibly kill?
There was a certain soone present who had killed more in a single night than the Tournant had claid in seven centuries. And had anyone flinched?
So of the students even thought the forr headmasters had overreacted.
Realizing the mood wasn’t quite what he’d intended, Dumbledore pressed on.
"With the passage of ti, international exchange within the wizarding world has grown ever closer. The original scale of the Tournant no longer suits our era. This ti, we will be joined by Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, Ilvermorny, Castelobruxo, Mahoutokoro, and Uagadou. Including Hogwarts, that makes seven schools participating in this grand event."
"Accordingly, the competition will be renad. It shall henceforth be known as the International Wizarding Championship."
So basically a global wizarding school ranking tournant.
The thought surfaced in more than a few minds, followed imdiately by excitent. They were familiar with the first few schools. Old rivals. Old friends. But Uagadou from Africa and Mahoutokoro from Japan were wrapped in mystery. Most of what anyone knew about them ca from textbooks, and even that was vague.
"I heard Uagadou students don’t use wands at all. They’re all masters of wandless magic."
"Seriously? Then what’s the point of competing? Unless Riddle represents us."
"You’re exaggerating. That’s just their tradition. They use gestures and incantations instead of wands."
Hermione tried her best to provide accurate information to the Gryffindors around her, but her voice was quickly swallowed by the growing noise. And before long, the discussion derailed entirely.
"I heard their campus grows tons of coffee beans and cocoa."
"No, Uagadou is scary. If students ss up, they get sent to work in plantations. If they don’t behave, they get whipped."
"Co on, they’re supposed to be on the sa side. Why are they tearing each other apart?"
"No wonder they don’t use wands. They wouldn’t survive if they depended on them."
"..."
At that point, even Dumbledore couldn’t rein in the chaos. Fortunately, he had already said everything that needed saying.
The feast ended in a lively buzz of conversation.
---
Back in the Slytherin common room, the younger snakes gradually cald down and turned their attention to more pressing matters.
The new first-years needed to et Tom and understand, very clearly, who truly ran this House. Next ca the selection of prefects and the reselection of shadow prefects.
Over the past few years, students with ambition had co to realize just how important the shadow prefect selection matches were. It wasn’t only about authority for the coming year. It was a chance to demonstrate strength, to attract followers, to form circles of influence that would carry into life after graduation.
...
The competition outside was fierce. Tom, however, had already returned to his dormitory. His three roommates were still out. He had the room to himself.
He pulled out his codex.
『Tom Riddle』: Crouch. Working overti?
On the other end, Crouch Sr had just finished a heated argunt with his son, Barty Jr. Seeing Tom’s ssage, his eyelid twitched.
Whenever Tom reached out, trouble followed.
Still, he replied obediently.
『Crouch Sr』: Boss, I just wrapped up.
『Tom Riddle』: Excellent. You’re about to start again.
Crouch stared at the ssage in silence.
So that’s how it is. If I’m not dead, I might as well be worked to death.
Did Tom have any idea what the Ministry was dealing with right now? If he wanted to stir up sothing new, couldn’t he at least wait?
Another ssage popped up.
『Tom Riddle』: Are all the arrangents for the International Wizarding Championship finalized?
Crouch quickly sent over the relevant docunts. The adult wizard ranking reforms had only recently been proposed and still required significant work, but the Championship had been decided months ago. Aside from minor details, most preparations were already in place.
A mont later, Tom replied.
『Tom Riddle』: Why is there a ball scheduled?
Crouch blinked, then hurriedly scanned the docunt until he found the line buried in the itinerary.
What was wrong with it?
Wasn’t that traditional for the Triwizard Tournant? The Yule Ball?
He typed carefully.
『Crouch Sr』: Boss, do you have any suggestions?
The response ca instantly.
『Tom Riddle』: How can this be allowed? The champions are here to compete, not to indulge themselves. A decadent, bourgeois social dance has no place in a serious tournant schedule. Cancel it. Imdiately.
Crouch felt his brain go numb.
Wait a second.
Aren’t we the bourgeois?
At Hogwarts, Tom closed the codex with a satisfied snap.
Sotis the old ways are best. If you cannot solve the problem, remove its source. If you cannot repair the consequence, erase the cause.
.
.
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