When the Weasley Twins stir things up, it’s truly—
Drums sounding, fireworks crackling, red flags waving, a sea of people... the smile on Ludo Bagman’s face stiffens slowly as the applause rings out. He glares at the two who’ve jumped onto the dining table, and they glare right back, the exchange fierce as gunpowder.
"Enough! Twenty points deducted from Gryffindor!"
In the end, Professor McGonagall couldn’t help but stand up, twisting the twins’ ears and pulling them down from the table, as the laughter of little wizards from all over the world surrounded them, Professor ow’s face beca increasingly grim—
But when she thought of William’s words, about the wicked things Ludo Bagman had done, she could only sigh, "Also, wait until the banquet is over to talk, put your stuff away!"
"Alrighty!"
The Weasley twins know when to call it quits. They had concocted this spontaneous plan in a half-hour, thrilled by the idea from Castelobruxo, a prank "declaration of war." Located in South Arica, this school is known worldwide for its pranks, thanks to none other than the guards known as Caipora—
Indeed, Castelobruxo has a bunch of "Peeves" as their security.
One must say, the headmaster of this school is a bit mad.
So, in response to the declaration, George, Fred, and Peeves naturally decided to make so big moves, and Ludo beca their target. After all, he really owes them a lot of Galleons, even if it gets to the Ministry of Magic, they’ve got a strong case. Although Ludo’s private gambling, they are still underage!
The only problem is that Mrs. Weasley might find out about this...
Of course, for now, the Weasley twins are excited, not worried about the Howler that might burst their eardrums tomorrow.
The farce ended abruptly, but the students’ ideas went wild, distracted from Dumbledore’s "rules," even Dumbledore himself got sidetracked, as he tried to tell a joke about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun, only to be "awakened" by Professor McGonagall’s cough—
"Alright, back to the topic, over the past few months, Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have tirelessly worked to arrange the Eight-Team Tournant, of course, Mr. Moody has also been making efforts for the champions’ safety."
Dumbledore paused, continuing under the students’ expectant gaze, "So they will join , along with the leading teachers of the other seven schools, forming a panel of judges to give fair evaluation to the champions’ efforts."
What a move, eleven judges, talk about "balancing the scales."
And hearing the word "champion," the students seed more focused, Dumbledore noticed their sudden silence, he smiled slightly, "William, please bring that box to ."
Then, William stepped forward, touched his pocket, and pulled out a wooden box.
"We have already reviewed the specific tasks for champions’ competition this year."
Dumbledore spoke while he received the box in his hand—
"We have also made many necessary arrangents for each task. There are a total of five tasks taking place at different tis throughout the school year, which will test champions in various aspects... their magical abilities, their courage, and their reasoning skills—of course, also their ability to overco dangers."
Upon hearing the last sentence, the hall beca silent, as if everyone had stopped breathing.
"You already know, this ti is completely different from the past, with as many as eight champions participating—"
Dumbledore continued, his tone calm, "They each represent their participating schools, and we will score them based on the quality of their performance in each task, and after five tasks, the champion with the highest score will win the trophy, and the one selecting the champions is a fair selector, the Goblet of Fire."
Saying this, Dumbledore drew his magic wand, tapping the box lid three tis, the lid opened with a creak, and Dumbledore reached inside, pulling out a large wooden chalice, roughly carved. The chalice itself was unremarkable, but inside danced a blue-white fla.
Dumbledore closed the box, placed the chalice on the lid, allowing everyone in the hall to see it clearly.
"Every student who wants to be a champion must write their na and school na on a piece of paper and throw it into the Goblet of Fire."
Dumbledore continued to explain, "Those aspiring to be champions need to register within twenty-four hours, and tomorrow night, on Halloween night, the goblet will select the nas of those it thinks are most likely to represent each school, one person per school—tonight, the goblet will be placed in the hall, accessible to all willing to enter the selection."
Upon hearing these words, all the students showed eager expressions on their faces.
"But." Dumbledore shifted his tone, "To prevent those who are not of age from succumbing to temptation." Dumbledore smiled mysteriously, "After the goblet is placed in the hall, I will draw an age line around it, preventing anyone under seventeen from crossing."
"Ah—"
The wizards below sixth year at Hogwarts let out wails, but the other schools had no reaction, as they did not have many underage students anyway.
"...Alright, I think everyone should go to bed, goodnight."
Dumbledore then said a bunch of blah-blah safety tips and warnings, eventually collecting the Goblet of Fire, handing it over to Filch waiting by the side.
So everyone stood up, and William put away the Marauder’s Map in his hand, recalling the nas that appeared flawless on it, including Alastor Moody. This ant that the other party hadn’t been replaced, unless soone cracked the magic of the Marauders—
But, generally speaking, people have no idea that the Marauder’s Map exists at Hogwarts, right?
William stroked his chin, looking thoughtfully at the limping figure just leaving the Great Hall.
...
"Age Line!"
Fred’s eyes were shining, "That’s easy to handle. It must be fooled by an Aging Potion, right? As long as the na goes into that cup, everything’s settled—it can’t tell who’s seventeen and who’s not!" At this mont, students were passing through the Great Hall, heading towards the double doors leading to the entrance hall.
"You’d better watch out for Professor McGonagall. She’s itching to skin you two alive—"
Ron patted Fred’s shoulder, his voice filled with sympathy.
"Everything is under control! Little Ronnie!"
George said loudly, though his expression clearly lacked the confidence his words implied.
"Hmph."
Ron snorted a couple of tis, said no more, and rubbed his waist where Ginny had smacked him, still a bit sore. Ron sidled up to the "traitor" Harry, "By the way, where’s he sleeping? Dumbledore didn’t say where the Durmstrang people are staying, right?"
With the influx of guests from six or seven other schools, Hogwarts Castle was overcrowded these days. Among these schools, only Ilvermorny was actually staying in the castle, with two classrooms specifically cleared out in the Slytherin Dungeon.
Uagadou had set up a castle on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
The students from the Magic Institute arrived riding a gigantic white "egg," which still floated above the castle. Every day, they could be seen riding broomsticks up to it.
Koldovstoretz students, like Uagadou, had pitched tents by the edge of the Forbidden Forest, though every ti William passed by, he felt an impulse to storm in and "open fire"—for no other reason than that the camp looked much like a poacher’s den from over a hundred years ago.
Almost turned into wild beasts for these students to hunt...
And soon, Ron’s questions were answered when he saw Karkaroff hastily walk up to his students.
"All right, ti to head back to the ship," Karkaroff asked gently, "Viktor, how are you feeling? Full? Should I have soone bring up so mulled wine from the kitchen? Or a pie?"
Harry watched as Krum shook his head and put his fur cloak back on.
"Professor, can I have so wine?" another Durmstrang boy asked greedily.
"I wasn’t talking to you, Polyaco!" Karkaroff said sharply—his fatherly smile vanished instantly. "I noticed you dropped food all down the front of your robes again, you troubleso boy—"
Then Karkaroff turned, leading his students toward the door, when he saw Harry standing a short distance away.
Instantly, the man went completely still, turning his entire head towards Harry, staring at him as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.
The students of Durmstrang followed their headmaster, stopping and gazing curiously at Harry. Then Harry saw a few of them exchange knowing glances. He noticed the boy with dribbled soup on his front nudge a girl beside him, pointing unabashedly at Harry’s forehead.
Forehead, scar.
Harry was utterly accustod to such looks and shifted aside, gesturing for them to go first if they wanted.
"Yes, it’s Harry Potter!"
Suddenly, an angry voice ca from behind the group.
Karkaroff quickly turned around as Harry looked over, eyes widening. Standing there was the "security chief," the "mad-eyed" Moody, leaning heavily on his cane, his magic blue eye fixed unblinkingly on the Durmstrang headmaster.
Harry watched as Karkaroff’s face went deathly pale, an expression of mixed anger and fear crossing it.
"What’s wrong?"
Then Harry saw another man, Barty Crouch, head of the International Magic Cooperation Departnt. "How long are you planning to block the way here?" he asked lowly, his breathing suddenly heavy, but quickly stabilized, his voice steady.
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