Hogwarts' Golden Glory

His movements were slow.

There were over a thousand people in the lobby, but not a single one of them was breathing.

Dumbledore unfolded the parchment, glanced at it, and then—

A complex emotion flickered in his blue eyes.

Not shock, not anger, not worry.

It's a kind of... relief.

It's as if I knew this would happen all along, but I wasn't sure when it would happen.

"Kane Malfoy," Dumbledore read aloud.

Quiet.

Utter silence.

It was so quiet that you could hear the sound of the silvery-white flames burning inside the Goblet of Fire.

It was so quiet that you could hear the waves of the Black Lake lapping against the shore in the distance.

It was so quiet that I could hear my own heartbeat.

Then--

A thousand voices exploded at once, ten times louder than when Harry was chosen.

"What?!"

"Kane Malfoy?!"

"No, he's not old enough!"

"But he's really strong!"

"Two Hogwarts?"

"No, there are three now? Three including Cedric?"

"No, Cedric is normal, Harry and Kane are the two extras—"

"That means Hogwarts has three champions!"

"This is against the rules!"

"Quiet!"

Professor McGonagall's voice lashed across the hall like a whip.

Karkaroff's face turned a deep shade of purple. His finger trembled as he pointed at Dumbledore: "Three champions? You Hogwarts have three? This—this is cheating! Blatant cheating!"

"Karkaroff," Dumbledore's voice was eerily calm, "the choice of the Goblet of Fire is bound by magic. I cannot stop it, and no one can."

"But these two boys are only thirteen years old!" Karkarov roared.

"The age line tests one's magical nature," Dumbledore said. "If he can cross the age line, it means his magical nature has matured to the point where he can compete."

This statement caused an uproar in the lobby.

Has the essence of magic matured to the point where it's suitable for competition?

A thirteen-year-old student?

The crowd began to stir. Hogwarts students were talking, Durmstrang students were protesting, and Beauxbatons students were whispering.

Fred and George stood on the periphery of the crowd, their jaws practically dropping to the floor.

"He...crossed the age line?" Fred said.

"We can't even get through the age-defying drugs," George said.

"He didn't drink any anti-aging drugs."

"He didn't make any preparations."

"One night, he walked into the foyer, stepped over the gold thread, and dropped his name in."

"Then the Goblet of Fire accepted it."

"Then the Goblet of Fire not only accepted him, but also, half a month later, spat out a silvery-white flame—a color never seen before—declaring him a hero."

Fred and George exchanged a glance.

"That Malfoy," Fred said slowly, "what kind of monster is he?"

"I don't know," George said, "but I think this year's Triwizard Tournament will be very exciting."

Draco's expression was extremely complicated at the Slytherin table.

Pride—because Kane is his brother. Shock—because Kane never told him. Worry—because people really do die in the Triwizard Tournament.

"You knew all along, didn't you?" Draco turned to his brother.

Kane did not answer. He simply stared at the Goblet of Fire, his grey eyes reflecting the silvery flames, his expression as calm as a stagnant pool.

"Kane!" Draco's voice rose. "You really signed up?"

Kane finally turned to look at his brother. "No."

"What?"

"I didn't register," Kane said. "I was indeed over the age limit. But I didn't submit my name."

Draco's mouth opened.

"Then how come your name is—?"

Kane did not answer. His gaze shifted to the Durmstrang area.

Krum stood at the door of the small room on the side, but did not go in.

He was looking at Kane.

Their eyes met again.

Kane already had someone he suspected in mind.

"Kane Malfoy," Dumbledore's voice rang out again, "come forward."

The commotion in the lobby was like a boiling cauldron, impossible to contain.

Dumbledore raised his wand, and a beam of silvery light shot out from the tip of the wand, exploding in the air above the foyer and turning into countless tiny specks of light that fell down.

The sound was suppressed, but the whispers continued, like mosquitoes buzzing in your ear on a summer night.

"Brave warriors, please proceed to the side rooms," Dumbledore said calmly but firmly. "The rest of you, please return to your respective common rooms. Further details about tonight's events will be provided tomorrow."

The crowd began to move slowly. Some left reluctantly, some tiptoed to get a better look, and some were pushed along by the prefect.

Fred and George were the last to leave, looking back as they went, their faces showing the expression of having missed the best show of the year.

"Five champions," Fred's voice drifted from the doorway. "Hogwarts has three."

"The Ministry of Magic is going crazy," George said.

"Dumbledore is going crazy."

"We're going crazy too."

"We've always been crazy."

The two figures disappeared outside the lobby.

The side room is small; it was originally a small reception room next to the foyer, used to receive visitors.

The room was now filled with people—four warriors, the headmasters of three schools, and several Hogwarts professors.

Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway, her expression as hard as stone; Moody stood against the wall, his prosthetic eye swirling wildly, scanning every corner of the room; Snape stood behind Dumbledore, his black robes swaying gently in the still room, his face expressionless, but his gaze remained fixed on Harry.

Hibiscus stood beside the fireplace, her long, silvery-white hair gleaming warmly in the firelight.

Her expression was calm, but her pale blue eyes were fixed on the doorway—she was waiting for Kane.

Krum stood by the window, his back to everyone, his dark gray eyes gazing at the night outside.

Cedric stood in the center of the room, his handsome face filled with confusion.

Harry stood at the very edge, leaning against the wall. His face was pale, and his green eyes behind his glasses were filled with confusion.

Kane was the last one to come in.

Igor flew in front of him, his dark golden feathers shimmering like flowing flames in the candlelight.

Kane's steps were steady, neither too fast nor too slow, each step perfectly timed. When he entered, everyone in the room turned to look at him.

Furong's gaze softened for a moment.

Krum didn't turn around, but his shoulder twitched slightly.

Cedric nodded to him—it was a sign of respect, not for the Malfoy surname, but for Kane as a person.

Dumbledore's blue eyes lingered on him for a moment before settling on Harry at the very back.

"Alright," Dumbledore said, closing the door. His voice was exceptionally clear in the small room. "Before we discuss the match, there's one thing we need to clarify."

Karkaroff spoke first, his voice sharp as fingernails scratching a blackboard: "Yes, we need to get this straight. Hogwarts has three champions, which violates the rules of the tournament. The Goblet of Fire can only select one champion from each school—that's written in the bylaws, Albus, you can't pretend you don't know that."

His gaze darted back and forth between Harry and Kane, like a snake assessing its prey.

"And both of them—are not even old enough to participate," Karkaroff continued, pointing at Harry and then at Kane. "Thirteen. Thirteen-year-olds in the Triwizard Tournament? That's just—absurd."