"Hmph! What a load of bragging. You're only in fourth year—there's no way you'd even get past the Age Line."
The one who spoke was Gabrielle Delacour, Fleur's younger sister. She clearly didn't believe Arthur had that kind of ability.
Fleur hadn't taken Gabrielle along when she was asking around about Arthur, so Gabrielle knew nothing of his deeds. In her eyes, her sister had simply been dazzled by Arthur's looks and had somehow convinced herself that he was qualified to be a champion.
Arthur didn't argue. He just smiled faintly.
There was no need to debate with a little girl.
Turning to Hermione beside him, Arthur said, "Aren't you going? Sign-ups are about to close."
"I'm going now."
Hermione replied, then turned her head toward Gabrielle, lifting her chin slightly.
"Watch closely, little sister. Not only can my cousin cross that line—so can I."
With that, Hermione walked straight toward the Goblet of Fire.
She couldn't stand anyone looking down on Arthur, so she was determined to prove it right here and now.
Hermione stepped across the Age Line with ease, arriving directly in front of the Goblet.
She didn't need to破解 it, nor did she need to bypass Dumbledore's magic.
After all, counting the time she'd spent studying inside the Zen Garden, Hermione's actual age was already close to eighteen.
This wasn't a temporary change like an Aging Potion—it was real, accumulated time.
Naturally, the Age Line didn't stop her in the slightest.
As everyone watched Hermione calmly drop her parchment into the Goblet, many students instinctively braced themselves—expecting her to be blasted away like the Weasley twins.
But nothing happened.
The flames didn't react at all.
Which meant—
Hermione Granger had successfully registered.
The Great Hall exploded in disbelief.
"This… this isn't magic!" someone muttered.
Arthur wasn't surprised in the least.
Hermione met every requirement perfectly. If she hadn't succeeded, that would have been strange.
He began applauding her.
Hearing Arthur clap, the stunned students finally snapped out of it and hurriedly joined in.
After all, that was Arthur's cousin.
The image of Arthur annihilating Dementors on the Quidditch pitch last year was still vivid in their minds.
They might not understand how Hermione did it, but clapping was definitely the right choice.
...
Time passed, and soon it was after dinner.
Despite the meal being over, students from all three schools stayed seated in the Great Hall.
Everyone was waiting for Dumbledore to announce the champions.
It was worth noting that Fleur had brought her sister to sit directly across from Arthur.
Throughout dinner, she chatted with him continuously.
With her quarter-Veela heritage, Fleur carried herself like a young socialite—elegant, poised, and refined.
She talked a lot, yet never in a way that annoyed anyone.
Arthur quickly noticed how perceptive she was.
Even while speaking with him, Fleur paid close attention to Hermione's mood, smoothly steering the conversation toward topics Hermione liked and subtly dissolving her initial hostility.
At first, Hermione had been wary of Fleur, convinced she was getting close to Arthur because she coveted his looks.
By the end of the meal, however, the two girls were chatting happily—practically friends.
Once Dumbledore saw that everyone had finished eating, he stood.
"Alright, everyone. Please take your seats. It's time for the moment you've all been waiting for—the selection of champions."
Students quickly sat down.
With a wave of Dumbledore's hand, most of the candles in the hall extinguished.
The previously bright hall dimmed, leaving the Goblet of Fire as the primary light source.
Its blue flames cast an eerie glow over the room, lending the atmosphere a solemn, ceremonial weight.
Dumbledore gently brushed his hands over the rim of the Goblet.
The blue flames abruptly turned red, and a scorched scrap of parchment shot out.
Catching it, Dumbledore read aloud:
"The champion of Durmstrang… Viktor Krum."
Krum clenched his fist and punched the air.
Despite being Durmstrang's obvious choice, he'd still been anxious.
Now, at last, he relaxed.
Durmstrang's students erupted into applause.
Krum stepped forward, shook Dumbledore's hand, and was directed to wait in the side chamber.
The Goblet flared again, ejecting a second parchment—delicate, fragrant, unmistakably Beauxbatons.
Dumbledore announced, "The champion of Beauxbatons… Fleur Delacour."
Thunderous applause followed—louder than before.
Beauty had its privileges.
Fleur stood, exchanged a handshake with Dumbledore, and walked toward the side door.
Then the flames surged violently once more.
The third parchment appeared.
Dumbledore read it—and froze.
"The champion of Hogwarts… Hermione Granger."
His gaze immediately snapped to Arthur, eyes full of disbelief.
What are you doing?
I told you to compete—not to push your cousin into it!
Arthur ignored the look entirely and began clapping for Hermione, subtly releasing a trace of pressure to snap the stunned students back to their senses.
This deserved applause.
A brief, oppressive heaviness passed through the hall, making everyone shiver.
They quickly joined in.
The applause was even louder than for the previous two champions.
No one questioned Hermione's selection.
They'd all seen her put her name into the Goblet.
And after sensing Arthur's presence just now, no one felt brave enough to question anything.
Only Cedric Diggory looked faintly disappointed.
Hermione hugged Arthur briefly, then followed the same process—handshake, side door.
Dumbledore suppressed his confusion and continued.
"Excellent. Our three champions have been selected. Yet only one will achieve eternal glory—only one will lift the Triwizard Cup!"
With a wave of his wand, he unveiled the platform behind him.
There, glowing with crystalline blue light, stood the Triwizard Cup.
But before anyone could admire it properly—
The Goblet of Fire roared.
Flames surged higher than ever, launching a parchment into the air.
Dumbledore caught it.
If Hermione's name had surprised him…
Then what he saw now left him utterly stunned.
"Harry Potter."
He called Harry's name, scanning the crowd frantically.
Harry sat not far from Arthur.
To be honest, the moment he heard his name, Harry's mind went completely blank.
He hadn't put his name in the Goblet.
Arthur leaned over and said quietly, "No idea what's going on, but go up there first. Let Dumbledore finish the process."
Harry nodded numbly and walked forward.
The hall was dead silent.
Ron stared at him, his expression a chaotic mix of resentment, anger, and jealousy.
Resentment and anger—because he thought Harry had secretly signed up without telling him.
Jealousy—because Harry had become a champion.
What Ron didn't realize was that Harry himself was just as confused.
Harry took the parchment from Dumbledore, completely at a loss.
Dumbledore gestured for him to join the others in the side chamber.
"The selection of champions is complete. It's past curfew—please return to your dormitories. Arthur, stay behind."
Students began filing out.
Dumbledore had questions for Arthur.
But before he could ask them—
Madame Maxime turned sharply toward Bartemius Crouch Sr.
"I protest this result! Hogwarts has two champions! That is unacceptable—and neither meets the age requirement! I demand a reselection!"
"You French old woman—everything looks like a conspiracy to you," "Moody" sneered.
He would not let her get her way.
After all the effort it took to Confund the Goblet and slip Harry's name inside…
If the selection were redone—
Everything would be for nothing.
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