A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 383: Champions Chosen

At the Halloween feast, Hermione had quite the appetite and exclaimed with a hint of surprise, "Oh my, is it true? Valen rushed into your dormitory for a time-turner exchange? I bet she was devastated..."

She joyfully served herself a large piece of pork.

"Now you must be pleased," Ron remarked. Neither he nor Harry needed the Ageing Potion.

"Of course I am," Hermione replied, putting down her utensils and looking at the two of them seriously. "You heard this afternoon as well. Hagrid managed to lift his head from a barrel of slippery potion, expressing his anticipation for the first task. That should give you an idea of how dangerous the Triwizard Tournament really is!"

Ron's fork trembled slightly, and he was somewhat convinced by this argument. "What made Hagrid happy last time?"

"Flobberworms," Seamus muttered discontentedly from the side.

At the professors' table, Felix Harp, having finished the last spoonful of seafood soup in his bowl, paused. His gaze swept across the hundreds of pumpkin lanterns in the corners and the bats fluttering above the ceiling, landing on the restless young wizards around him.

He could distinctly sense the anxious atmosphere pervading the hall, a skill he had learned from Dementors.

"It's a bit suffocating," he mumbled.

Fleur Delacour curiously glanced at him, her outstretched hand recoiling, losing interest in the seafood soup in front of Felix.

A new face appeared among the professors today—Mr. Barty Crouch, looking quite ill. He hurriedly ate a few bites of mashed potato and meat pie before leaning back in his chair, appearing absent-minded. This contrasted sharply with Ludo Bagman, who sat next to him, animated and excited.

"...Back when I played for the Wasps, I'd always receive heaps of flowers after matches, and there were foreign fans... which country? I don't know... didn't recognize the names, but there was this fragrance on the letters... If only Barty were here, he could help me translate, couldn't he?"

Bagman turned to look at Mr. Crouch, who snorted with a displeased expression.

"Oh, Barty, you look unwell. Perhaps you should take some time to recuperate..."

"I'll consider it," Mr. Crouch replied with disinterest. Even though he looked unwell, he had meticulously groomed himself, his clothes without a single crease, bearing a striking resemblance in style to Headmaster Dumbledore.

Most of the students had finished eating, and amidst the eager anticipation in their eyes, Dumbledore stood up.

He waved his wand, plunging the Great Hall into darkness. The Goblet of Fire had been moved to the front of the professors' table, and now it suddenly blazed with light, flames leaping high, transforming the blue and white flames into dazzling red, with sparks flying.

A piece of scorched parchment flew out.

"The first champion of Durmstrang," he said in a clear and commanding voice, "is Viktor Krum."

Thunderous applause erupted in the hall as Krum rose from his seat, guided by Professor McGonagall, and headed towards a room beside the Great Hall.

"Still hope, two spots remaining!" a Durmstrang student next to him cheered himself on.

After a while, another piece of parchment flew out.

"Durmstrang, Fleur Delacour."

The young man who had just spoken burst into tears of joy. He cried out, "I knew it!" as he stood up, pumping his fist vigorously, nearly tripping over the table. The headmaster of Durmstrang, looking displeased, harrumphed.

Next was the third champion from Durmstrang—

"Durmstrang, Adim Bwik."

Dumbledore wiped at his eyes and emotionally said, "How touching! The three champions will unite and fight for the honor of the school..."

For a not-so-short period of time that followed, the Goblet of Fire held pieces of parchment with names, selecting the champions from the remaining four schools.

"Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour—

"Jacqueline Boulevarde—

"François Lallan."

The three champions from Beauxbatons successively entered the room adjacent to the Great Hall to rest, but the students' minds were in chaos, as if time had frozen at the moment the girl who looked remarkably like a Veela stood up.

The girl named Fleur elegantly tossed her shiny silver hair and glided gracefully between two dining tables, resembling an ethereal being...

It could be foreseen that this image would be etched in the hearts of many students, unforgettable throughout their lives.

"Next are the champions from Durmstrang: Viktor Krum—

"Aan Leen—

"And the third champion, Beryl Bach."

Beryl stood up jubilantly and, amidst the cheering of the Gryffindor students, entered the small room beside the Great Hall.

"Next up are the champions from Koldovstoretz: Rashawn Elfindee—

"Nona Leybert—

"And Panagiotis Blanzeigo."

The Koldovstoretz champions stood up together. Instead of following the previous procedure of each one acting individually, they waited until all three were selected before leaving together.

Hogwarts students watched them—the two wizards, one tall and robust like a walking wall, easily a foot taller than Cedric, who was already considered tall among Hogwarts students; the other with a hairstyle resembling an eagle, not short either but appearing like a dwarf next to the tall companion.

The only girl among the three, just like Fleur, was tall and statuesque, but her body exuded strength. Despite the not-so-warm weather, she wore a thin leopard-print cloak.

"Lastly, we have the champion from Hogwarts," Dumbledore said cheerfully. He read the name on the parchment thrown out by the Goblet of Fire, "Cedric Diggory—"

"Oops!" Ron exclaimed loudly, luckily only Harry and Hermione heard him. The cheers from the nearby table could lift the roof off. Dumbledore had to wait a moment while the cheers subsided, and in that interval, a third piece of parchment was shot out by the flames.

"The second and third champions are Roger Davies and Collins Flewitt. Let's cheer for them." Dumbledore read out the names of the remaining two champions in one breath.

Thunderous applause erupted again, Gryffindor students joined in clapping, albeit with a somewhat sour feeling. None of the three champions was from Gryffindor; their joy was compromised.

When the noise subsided, Dumbledore smiled and continued, "Now, the last three champions, please rest in the room beside the Great Hall. With great pleasure, I announce that the Goblet of Fire has successfully completed its task. Moving forward, I believe everyone will support their own school's champion and contribute their efforts to this event. So—"

He suddenly stopped, the Goblet of Fire, which should have been extinguished, blazed again, casting a fiery light that reddened his face.

A piece of parchment flew out; he instinctively caught it and glanced down. After a brief silence, he cleared his throat and loudly proclaimed—

"Harry Potter."

No cheers this time, silence filled the hall. Slowly, a buzzing began, everyone's eyes on Harry, including his neighbors. They all looked at him with incredulous eyes.

"I didn't put my name in," Harry said, bewildered. He looked at Ron and Hermione, "You know I didn't. I've been with you."

Hermione's mouth remained open, her eyes wide in disbelief, while Ron managed a forced smile. "Yeah, we've been together. Congratulations, Harry."

"This isn't a matter of congratulations!" Harry exclaimed loudly, his voice echoing in the hall.

On the other side, Professor McGonagall hurriedly stood up from the teachers' table and stumbled when she passed Felix. "Careful, Miller," he said. But McGonagall paid no attention, rushing to Dumbledore's side and speaking urgently.

Dumbledore said seriously, "I know, Miller, but—" His voice grew louder as he raised the half-burned parchment in his hand, "Harry Potter, please proceed to the room beside the Great Hall."

Harry stood up shakily, looking at rows of shocked faces, feeling like he didn't belong here. He approached Dumbledore, who nodded at him and pointed in the right direction. He took a few steps, hearing the collective gasp behind him.

He spun around abruptly, just like everyone else, staring at the Goblet of Fire with disbelief. After the initial mistake, there had been a second mistake.

"It must be broken," Harry thought. "This wretched wooden cup is malfunctioning. Maybe another unlucky person will be called out next."

Dumbledore deftly caught the soaring piece of parchment, and in the solemn silence of the hall, he read out the name with a calm tone, "Ronald Weasley."

>

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