A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

The two looked away guiltily, each hiding a small bottle of aging serum in their pockets. Ron stammered, "We prepared yours, Hermione, do you need it...?"

Hermione was furious and turned her head away from them.

Harry didn't speak. When the moment came, he hesitated. He couldn't help but ask himself: if Fred and George really succeeded, should he put his name in?

The twins stepped into the age limit and waved to Felix, who was smiling to the side.

“We love you to death, Professor,” Fred said.

For a fleeting moment, Hermione thought they had succeeded, but then she heard a hissing sound and the twins were thrown outside the golden circle. Jordan Lee pulled his leg back in horror.

The twins scrambled to their feet with cries of "Ouch, ouch!" and the people around them burst into laughter—they had grown long white beards on their chins. Even the twins themselves couldn't help but laugh.

Felix walked over from the wall, scrutinized them carefully, and said teasingly, "This morning I heard that Miss Fawcett of Ravenclaw and Mr. Summers of Hufflepuff were sent to the school hospital, and I figured there must be some skeptical little wizards out there. So I came here specifically to keep watch..."

Fred and George looked at him with a mournful expression, his beard swaying wildly on his chin, making him look utterly ridiculous.

“I warned you,” Dumbledore said in a low, amused tone as he appeared in the hallway. He approached, examining the twins’ gleaming white beards, and asked, “Any findings, Felix?”

"No one succeeded. A second-year wizard threw a crumpled piece of paper inside, but the Goblet of Fire spat it out..."

Perhaps the Weasley twins' example was too obvious, because after the morning's incident, no more underage wizards attempted to cross the age limit.

The Hogwarts students watched with longing as prospective champions from the other four schools lined up to drop their names into the Goblet of Fire. The blue and white flames on the goblet licked their fingers, burning fiercely until they turned red and sputtered sparks.

"Where are our people?" a young wizard asked anxiously.

"coming!"

Another young wizard excitedly said that Cedric, Roger Davis, Collins Foley, and Angelina walked over together, followed by the selected students.

One by one, they tossed their slips of paper into the Goblet of Fire, their faces filled with anticipation.

Chapter 381 Warrior Selection

At the Halloween dinner, Hermione, with a hearty appetite, exclaimed in surprise, "Oh my god, really? Valen ran into your dorm room and traded an hourglass for it? I bet she was heartbroken..."

She happily picked up a large piece of pork chop for herself.

“You must be happy now,” Ron said. Neither he nor Harry needed the aging potion.

“Of course I’m happy,” Hermione put down her knife and fork and looked at the two of them seriously. “You saw it this afternoon, Hagrid was able to lift his head out of a bucket of slippery fabric softener and tell us he was really looking forward to the first event… that should tell you just how dangerous the Championship is!”

Ron's fork trembled slightly; he was somewhat convinced by this argument: "What was the last thing that made Hagrid happy?"

"Fried snails," Simo said sullenly from the side.

On the professor's table, Felix finished the last sip of seafood soup in his bowl, paused, and glanced over the hundreds of pumpkin lanterns in the corner and the bats fluttering on the ceiling before settling on the restless young wizards.

He could fully sense the restless atmosphere in the auditorium, one of the skills he had learned from the Dementors.

"It's a bit pungent," he muttered.

Flitwick glanced at him curiously, then withdrew his outstretched hand, losing interest in the bowl of seafood soup in front of Felix.

There was one more person on the professor's chair today than yesterday—Mr. Barty Crouch looked unwell, and after quickly eating a few bites of mashed potato and meat pie, he leaned back in his chair, appearing absent-minded, a stark contrast to Ludo Bagman, who was beaming beside him.

"...When I played for the Hornets, I would receive a bunch of flowers after every game, and there were also foreign fans...which country? I don't know...I don't recognize them, anyway, a long list of names. I guess they were female fans, the note smelled of perfume...If Battier were here, he could help me translate, right?"

Bagman turned to look at Mr. Crouch, who snorted with a stern face.

“Oh, Barty, you don’t look well. Maybe you should rest for a while…”

“I’ll consider it,” Mr. Crouch said listlessly. Even though he looked unwell, he still carefully groomed himself, his clothes were wrinkle-free, and he looked very similar to Principal Ilvermorny.

Most of the students had finished eating, and amidst the expectant gazes of the crowd, Dumbledore stood up.

He waved his wand, plunging the Great Hall into complete darkness. The Goblet of Fire, which had been moved to the front of the professors' table, suddenly shone brightly, flames leaping high into the air, the blue-white flames turning into a dazzling red, sparks flying everywhere.

A piece of parchment, half of it charred, flew out.

“Demstrand’s first warrior,” he said in a clear and powerful voice, “was Viktor Krum.”

Thunderous applause filled the auditorium. Krum stood up from his seat and, guided by Professor McGonagall, went to a room next to the auditorium.

“There’s still hope! There are still two spots available!” The Durmstrang student next to him encouraged himself.

After a while, another piece of parchment flew out.

“Demstrand, Ors Polyaco,” Dumbledore read.

The boy who had just spoken burst into tears of joy. He shouted uncontrollably, "I knew it!" He stood up, waving his fist so hard that he almost tripped over the table. The principal of Durmstrang snorted.

Next up is the third Durmstrang warrior—

"Demstrang, Adim Bwick."

Dumbledore wiped his eyes and said with deep emotion, "How moving! Three heroes will unite to fight for the honor of the school..."

Over the next period of time, the Goblet of Fire appeared carrying signed slips of paper, selecting the warriors from the remaining four schools.

"Beauxbatons, Fleur Delacour—"

Jacqueline Bourgeois —

François Lafontaine.

The three warriors of Beauxbatons went to rest in the room next to the Great Hall one by one, but the students' minds were in turmoil, as if time had stopped at the moment when the girl who looked just like a Veela stood up.

The girl named Furong gracefully tossed her shimmering silver hair and walked lightly between the two dining tables, like an elf...

It is foreseeable that this scene will be imprinted in the hearts of many students, and they will never forget it for the rest of their lives.

"Next is Iphamoni's warrior, Victor Percival Grevis—"

Ann Lenn —

And the third warrior, Byers Bach.

Byers stood up cheerfully and, amidst the farewells of the Gryffindor students, went into the small room next to the Great Hall.

"Next up is Vargadu's warrior, Rashon Elifendy—"

Nona Lebert—

Panagiota Brandzig.

The warriors of Vagad stepped forward. Instead of acting individually as before, they waited until all three had been chosen before leaving together.

The Hogwarts students watched their backs—of the two wizards, one was tall and burly, looking like a walking wall; he was at least a foot taller than Cedric, who was considered quite tall among the Hogwarts students. The other had an eagle-like hairstyle and was not short either, but he looked like a dwarf next to the person next to him.

The only girl among the three was as tall as Furong, but her body was full of power. In the not-so-warm weather, she wore a thin leopard-skin cloak.

“Finally, the champion from Hogwarts,” Dumbledore said cheerfully, reading the name from the slip of paper tossed out by the Goblet of Fire: “Cedric Diggory—”

"Oh no!" Ron shouted. Fortunately, no one heard him except Harry and Hermione. The cheers from the next table were enough to lift the roof off. Dumbledore had to wait a while with the second note. In the meantime, the third note shot out with a tongue of fire.

"The second and third warriors are Roger Davis and Collins Foley. Let's cheer for them." He read out the names of the remaining two in one breath.

Another round of deafening applause erupted. The Gryffindor students clapped along, but they felt a bit bitter. None of the three champions were Gryffindors, so they couldn't be happy at all.

Once the noise subsided, Dumbledore said with a smile, "Alright, please have the last three heroes rest in the room next to the Great Hall. I am pleased to announce that the Goblet of Fire has successfully completed its mission. Now, I believe everyone will support their school's heroes and contribute their strength to this event. So—"

He suddenly stopped talking, and the Goblet of Fire, which should have been extinguished, became dazzling again, the intense flames making his face glow red.

A note flew out, which he caught instinctively. He glanced down at it, and after a brief silence, cleared his throat and read aloud—

"Harry Potter."

There were no cheers; the Great Hall was silent. Gradually, a buzzing sound began, and everyone looked at Harry, including the classmate sitting next to him, staring at him with incredulous eyes.

“I didn’t put my name in,” Harry said blankly, looking at Ron and Hermione. “You know I didn’t, I’ve been with you the whole time.”

Hermione's mouth was still agape, her eyes wide open, while Ron forced a smile. "Yeah, we've always been together. Congratulations, Harry."

“This isn’t about congratulations!” Harry shouted, his voice echoing through the Great Hall.

Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall rose hastily from her professor's seat, tripping over Felix as she passed him. "Watch out, Minerva," he said. But McGonagall paid no heed, hurrying over to Dumbledore and speaking vehemently.

Dumbledore said seriously, “I know, Minerva, but…” He raised his voice and held up the half-burnt note in his hand, “Harry Potter, go to the Great Hall next door first.”

Harry stumbled out, looking at the astonished faces, feeling like he didn't belong there. He walked up to Dumbledore, who nodded at him and pointed him in the right direction. He took a few steps and heard another loud gasp behind him.

He turned sharply—in disbelief, just like everyone else—to look at the Goblet of Fire, which had turned red again. After the first mistake, a second one followed.

"It must be broken," Harry thought. "This lousy wooden cup is malfunctioning, and maybe a third unlucky one will be called out soon."

Dumbledore deftly picked up the note and read the name on it in a deep voice, "Hermione Granger."

A gasp rang out from the Gryffindor seats, and Hermione covered her mouth, unable to believe her ears. But at that moment, everyone's eyes were fixed on the Goblet of Fire, a strange anticipation welling up inside them.

Even Dumbledore was the same, silently gazing at the Goblet of Fire, behind the crescent-shaped spectacles a deep, unfathomable blue.

Harry remained where he was, the blue and white flames making him dizzy, but he forced himself to look at it, as if trying to see into the very depths of the wooden cup, to see the last note poised to be released.

finally--

Dumbledore caught the flying note and calmly read it aloud in the deep, solemn silence of the Great Hall: "Ronald Weasley."

Chapter 382 Argument

“Ronald Weasley,” Dumbledore called again.

Ron was completely stunned. He couldn't help but wonder if there was another freshman named "Ronald" at the school, but he was the only one with the surname Weasley.

He quickly stood up excitedly, "I am a warrior! I am a warrior!"

He casually pulled the stunned Hermione aside, a happy smile spreading across his face, and walked over to Harry. He whispered in his ear, "You're really something, bro! I thought you'd left me behind. How did you manage that? Did you use an invisibility cloak at night? Honestly, you should have woken me up; I haven't seen it yet..."

"I didn't put a single note in!" Harry said, annoyed. He couldn't help but get angry; how could Ron not see that he hadn't done anything?

“Alright…you three, go through that door,” Dumbledore said, his face devoid of a smile.

The Great Hall was buzzing with discussion, leaving Harry feeling distraught. He just wanted to leave as quickly as possible and find a quiet corner to think things through. He strode away without looking back, as if trying to leave his troubles behind. Hermione followed closely behind, looking worried. Ron brought up the rear, deliberately slowing his pace and straightening his back, walking like the great man he imagined. His only regret was the lack of applause in the Great Hall.

Harry pushed open the door. He had been craning his neck to peer inside from his seat, but now he could finally see clearly. It was a small room with portraits of wizards hanging on both walls. As they entered, a wrinkled witch stepped away from her frame and began whispering to the wizard in the portrait on the other side. Below the portraits were six or seven spacious sofas, reminding him of the Rune Club. Across from them, the fireplace burned brightly.

Harry realized something was wrong. This was clearly not a place for thought. Fifteen pairs of eyes were fixed on him, and for a moment, their gazes made Harry feel suffocated. Ron gave him a push from behind, grinning as he poked his head out. "What are you waiting for, Harry? Do you want them to take another look at the youngest warrior?"

“Shut up!” Harry said, but it was too late. Just a few steps away on the sofa, the girl who looked like a Veela, perhaps named “Fleur,” raised her delicate face and looked at them in surprise. “Are you warriors?”

"I……"

Before Harry could answer, she turned her head, her silver hair tossing. Harry inhaled the overwhelming fragrance, choking back the words he was about to say. He heard Fleur say in one direction, "Cedric, your students really know how to joke..."