"There are no restrictions regarding age, and I invite all students who have confidence in their magic, and the courage to face what lies ahead, to take their chance. But do so wisely."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled faintly as he let the words linger, sweeping over the sea of students before him. He could already sense the excitement bubbling beneath the surface, ready to spill over the moment he mentioned the lack of age restrictions.
Not one student appeared troubled by caution, as if his last remark had gone completely unheard. That, however, was to be expected, he mused inwardly. After all, what child did not crave glory, and being a champion was a first-class ticket to it.
So he brushed the thoughts aside and went on, not once letting his kind, steady expression waver.
"You will have twenty-four hours to put your names forward. Tomorrow night, on Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the students it deems worthy to represent their schools."
Finally, with a small nod, he concluded, "The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall this evening and will remain freely accessible to ALL... who wish to compete."
The moment he returned to his seat, the Great Hall erupted in a shower of excited voices, like sparks leaping from a bonfire, with conversations overlapping as speculation and bold declarations flew freely across the tables.
Some even wanted to put their names forward at once, held back only by the thought of standing alone before the entire hall.
The noise soon swelled toward chaos until Professor McGonagall rose and put an end to it by dismissing the students and instructing the prefects to guide them.
No matter which school they came from, her stern authority proved effective. Even the so-called barbaric bunch from Durmstrang hushed at once at her signal.
Even the most rebellious few could do no more than nod reluctantly and pout, then disperse in twos and threes after their prefects toward their respective house common rooms.
With such a weighty decision hanging over them, the students would need clear minds, and rest seemed the sensible course. That was certainly McGonagall's thinking. In reality, precisely because of the weight of the decision, there was very little chance anyone would be getting decent sleep that night.
"I'm putting my name in first thing tomorrow morning."
"Same here. Can you imagine it... both of us getting picked. Two Weasleys as Hogwarts champions. That'd be absolutely brilliant."
As they crossed the Hall toward the doors leading into the entrance hall, Ron glanced sideways at his brothers, catching the eager glint in their eyes. His mouth twisted as he cut in with contempt. "You don't seriously think the two of you can best the seventh years in magical energy, do you?"
Fred slowed just enough to exchange a look with George, both of them wearing identical expressions of thoughtful consideration.
"You know," Fred said mildly, "I think our little brother might be asking for something."
George nodded solemnly. "You're right. We should probably walk him to his room and give him exactly what he's asking for."
They did not look at Ron when they said it, but the gleam in their eyes was enough to make Ron shiver all the same.
"There's no harm in trying though," Hermione added, falling into step beside them. "Whether we're selected or not is entirely up to the enchanted cup."
Ron opened his mouth again, but Fred leaned closer, grinning. "Did you hear that, Ronny? Even Granger reckons we have a chance."
Ron snorted, then glanced ahead. "What about you, Harry?"
Harry had slowed without realizing it, his attention clearly elsewhere. Ron nudged him lightly. "Mate... Harry."
Harry blinked and looked up, pulling himself back into the moment as the group continued on. Around them, Gryffindor students buzzed with the same restless energy, and it was much the same in the other house lines as well.
The castle seemed to hum with anticipation as the delegations from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons also discussed entering their names, while Dumbledore and McGonagall escorted them to the quarters prepared for their stay.
Unlike in the original story, they would not be staying in an enchanted carriage or a magic ship for the duration of their visit, instead resting and sleeping within Hogwarts Castle. Even so, the excitement among their students mirrored that of Hogwarts.
McGonagall might have hoped for a quiet night when she dismissed everyone to bed, but it was clear that sleep would be hard won for most.
Meanwhile, Mavrick returned to his chambers and went straight to bed as well. He lay there staring at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting toward the semester ahead and the subtle arrangements already set in motion behind the scenes.
He had no doubt that Harry would put his name forward. He had suggested it himself, as Harry met every requirement and the goblet would have no trouble acknowledging his magical energy.
In fact, ever since that lingering parasite had been lifted, Harry's magic had grown stronger, not dramatically so, but enough to place him comfortably on par with most seventh years. Mavrick suspected the boy might even advance from mage apprentice to magus before he graduated, if things continued as they were.
The real question was who else would step forward. In the original course of events, Cedric Diggory had been the clear choice, and his magical energy certainly met the requirements.
Still, there were a handful of other seventh years whose reserves scraped past the bare minimum as well. As for Granger and Weasley, they were skilled, even exceptionally so, but unfortunately skill alone did not bridge the gap. Their magical energy fell just short of the standard.
Then Mavrick's eyes opened slightly as another name surfaced in his thoughts.
Jean.
Her magical energy surpassed that of any student in the castle, and in another year or so, she would undoubtedly reach the rank of magus officially.
Would she submit her name? Should I advise her against it?
The thoughts lingered for a moment before he dismissed them, realizing he was worrying over nothing. In any case, even if she did, it would simply introduce a small change to the broader plan and would make no real difference.
He turned onto his side and closed his eyes once more. The castle would be lively tonight, of that he was certain. Some students would surely sneak out to place their names in the goblet before morning, and fortunately for them, Dumbledore had already instructed Filch to ignore any movement for the night.
Maverick chuckled softly at the thought, and with that, he allowed sleep to claim him. When sleep came, nothing weighed on his mind.
As the next day was Saturday, most students would normally have slept in and taken breakfast late. Today, however, was anything but normal.
By early morning, students were already gathered in an excited hubbub, clustering around the center of the Great Hall. There, a circle of fine golden threads shimmered on the stone floor, and at its heart stood the Goblet of Fire, perched atop its pedestal.
When Maverick sat down for breakfast, he saw that a dozen or so students were already milling around the circle, some examining the enchanted cup with open fascination, while others ate toast as they did so, unwilling to leave even for a proper meal.
"So how many have put their names forward so far?" he asked quietly, filling his plate with bread and cut fruit.
"Let me see… Adrian was the first. The Slytherin boy," Flitwick said thoughtfully. "A few more older witches. Angelina, Katie." He paused and glanced sideways. "Your boy put his name in too, Amos."
"Well, I'd be surprised if he didn't," Amos Diggory said with a proud smile.
As the morning wore on, the small crowd quickly grew into a long queue. One by one, students stepped forward to submit their names, including many first-years who, judging by their expressions, looked remarkably confident as they did so.
Each time a name was cast in, the goblet's blue-white flames licked at the parchment and flared brighter, briefly turning red as tiny sparks burst outward. The process continued steadily throughout the day, the line never truly thinning.
What Maverick had pondered the night before soon came to pass as well when he spotted the little redhead, along with another identical redhead, stepping forward to take their chance — Jean and Ginny.
The trio followed not long after, all three of them submitting their names. By the end of the day, it seemed that at least half of Hogwarts had tried their luck, which said a great deal about the tournament's appeal.
Among the visiting schools, every student from both delegations submitted their names as well, apparently having discussed it beforehand.
Regardless, only two would ultimately be chosen from each school, but the more names the goblet spat out, the greater the headache it promised for those tasked with the final decision. Even thinking about it left Maverick with a dull ache behind his eyes.
Time dragged on until evening arrived.
At the Halloween feast, the students displayed unusually hearty appetites, eating with nervous energy as anticipation hung thick in the air.
At the professors' table, Maverick finished the last spoonful of seafood soup in his bowl and paused. His gaze drifted across the Great Hall, taking in the hundreds of glowing pumpkin lanterns lining the corners and the bats fluttering beneath the enchanted ceiling, occasionally swooping low over the restless young witches and wizards below.
When most of the plates had been cleared and excitement gleamed openly in the students' eyes, Dumbledore finally rose to his feet.
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Author's Note:
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