This year's Halloween banquet felt particularly long.
Perhaps because in the short span of two months, we've already held three or four banquets? In any case, everyone at the table seemed restless; the hall buzzed like thousands of noisy mosquitoes, the constant humming never ceasing.
Everyone was on edge, and the students frequently stood to check if Dumbledore had finished his dinner. Similarly, Cedric appeared a bit anxious, frequently glancing at the Goblet of Fire placed in front of the head table, his bright gray eyes flickering with nervous emotion.
"William, do you think I'll be chosen..."
"I don't know, I'm not sure, could you stop shaking your leg?"
William, re-forking a fallen pork chop from his plate, replied helplessly, thinking he should have sat at the teacher's table—at least no one shakes their leg there.
"Every school will have one person selected, right? I always have this feeling that it will be me—"
Cedric kept shaking his leg; it seemed he couldn't control his right leg. William glanced at him without speaking—he really didn't know whether Cedric would be chosen. After all, characters like Harry Potter are inevitably part of such "big projects," or the author would have postponed the tournament to Harry's sixth year.
However, he had asked Harry that afternoon, and Harry explicitly said he hadn't put his name into the Goblet of Fire.
So, someone else must have done it for him. As long as the age line is crossed, anyone's name can be entered, though it's uncommon for someone to do that. William had considered taking up those fourth-year wizards' "offers" to make a fortune but decided against it...
After all, he was a referee, an official—where would you find an official involved in corruption? Not to mention those little wizards offered too low a price (which absolutely had nothing to do with it!), he couldn't even be bothered.
Finally, the banquet ended amidst Cedric's rambling, and the golden plates returned to their pristine state as the hall's noise suddenly intensified.
Then, Dumbledore stood up, accompanied by the principals and team leaders from various academies, rendering the hall utterly silent.
"Alright, the Goblet is about to make its decision."
Dumbledore began, "I estimate it will take another minute—listen, once the champions' names are announced, I hope they will proceed to the top of the hall and then walk along the staff table into the next room—" he pointed to the door behind the staff table, "—where you will receive some initial instructions."
He then pulled out his wand, giving it a wide sweep.
The next moment, except for the candles inside the pumpkin lamps, all other candles were extinguished, plunging the hall into semi-darkness.
Then, the Goblet of Fire suddenly emitted a dazzling light, brighter than anything else in the hall. The sparking blue-white flames were almost blinding. Everyone watched, waiting... some even checking their watches repeatedly...
"It's almost time."
Someone muttered, as if flipping a switch, the flames in the Goblet suddenly turned red again, spitting out sparks while a tongue of flame leaped into the air, ejecting a burnt piece of parchment—everyone held their breath.
Dumbledore reached out to catch the parchment and held it up, squinting, "Piero Hamilton—from Castelobruxo."
The next moment, a green cauliflower jumped up, raised a finger to the other cauliflowers around it, and the next instant, someone's action caused the cauliflower's pants to fall to the ground. The boy had to stop showing off and ran through the hall holding up his pants.
"Old Cauliflower," Castelobruxo's vice-principal, York Francis, rubbed his forehead somewhat helplessly.
"And Koldovstoretz's champion is—Alexander Vladimir!" Dumbledore caught another piece of parchment and continued reading the names.
A robust figure, almost like a brown bear, stood up from the Gryffindor Long Table. The man with long golden hair didn't mock his classmates; instead, he pointed towards the nearby Slytherin Long Table and gave a thumbs-up—
Only it was upside down.
"Is he threatening that, that... Viktor Krum?" Hermione blinked, seated near the group of Russians, naturally following Alexander's pointed direction and spotting the dark-faced man sitting beside Malfoy.
"It's Viktor Krum!"
Ron quietly corrected Hermione's pronunciation, "He's the youngest participant in the Quidditch World Cup finals, the best Seeker... one of them." Ron glanced at Harry, wisely adding "one of them" at the end, and Harry, though well aware of his insincerity, still enjoyed the compliment.
"...just a Quidditch player."
Watching the two boys starting to trade business accolades, Hermione murmured, then continued to watch Dumbledore.
"Yamamoto Senren—from the Magic Institute!"
"Pfft—"
Even before anyone from the Magic Institute could stand up, William couldn't help but spit out his tea upon hearing the name from Dumbledore. At long last, the once highly animated Cedric calmed down, wiped his face, and said, grumbling, "What's wrong with you?"
"Cough cough cough..."
William leaned on the table, holding back laughter, "Haha... Uh, cough cough, nothing, just choked."
Great, now we don't even need to think of 'cheer words' for the Magic Institute contestant leading a good 'little life'. Just organize a group to shout, 'Yamamoto, I curse your ancestors.'
The Elder Brother Xianren, dressed in a dazzling golden robe, stood up as well. The next moment, the witches who were initially excited by the somewhat gentle features of his face immediately lost interest. After all, being chosen by the Goblet of Fire meant he was definitely over seventeen and an adult, but his mere 1.6-meter height—
It's practically a second-degree disability.
"Next is..."
Dumbledore paused, somewhat parched from all the reading, "The Champion from Ilvermorny, Daniel Stephens!"
The America Wizard in a red robe stood up, waving his arms, and the surrounding students began to cheer. The man leisurely walked to the middle of the hall, seemingly enjoying the cheers but missing the increasingly dark face of Ilvermorny's Vice Principal.
"Stop embarrassing yourself and get over here—"
A middle-aged witch with the same last name, Stephens, loudly scolded, her familiar voice almost making the Hogwarts little wizards think it was Professor McGonagall speaking.
"Oh oh!"
The boy was evidently a bit afraid of his aunt, quickly running across the hall.
"The Champion of Uagadou is Abeba Hailu!"
The scene fell quite silent this time. The witch in robes had a sullen face—she honestly couldn't turn white—and hurriedly walked towards the small room by the hall.
"The Champion of Durmstrang, Viktor Krum!"
Dumbledore continued reading out, and then, "Excellent, Viktor!" Karkaroff bellowed, his voice booming even though the hall was filled with applause. Everyone could still hear him, "I knew you were destined to be a Champion!"
The boy in a red and black uniform showed a hint of joy on his face, hurriedly walking past Dumbledore and into the room.
"The Champion of Beauxbatons." Dumbledore paused, "is Fleur Delacour!"
The girl resembling a Veela elegantly stood up, flicking her silvery hair and gracefully walking between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
"Oh, they're all disappointed."
Hermione said amidst the noise, nodding towards the other Beauxbatons students, although clearly, the word "disappointed" was an understatement—two girls who weren't selected were already in tears, burying their heads in their arms, shoulders shaking.
And so, the hall quieted down again, this time the silence was filled with a palpable excitement, as if it could be tasted, up next was the Champion from Hogwarts... Being the host, this silence was the longest—
Finally, the Goblet of Fire turned red again, sparks flying, flames leaping into the air, and Dumbledore pulled out tonight's eighth piece of parchment from the tip of the flame.
"The Champion of Hogwarts!" he announced loudly, "is Cedric Diggory!"
"!"
Cedric jumped to his feet, an uncontrollable joy spreading across his pale face. He instinctively wanted to share his happiness with William nearby, but glanced down to see him still staring intently at the Goblet of Fire, blue eyes filled with a puzzled light.
"What's wrong?"
Cedric did not leave, instead instinctively asking in a low voice, and just as William was about to speak, the blue-white flame turned red again, sparks crackling out, and the next moment, a long tongue of flame shot up into the air, carrying out another piece of parchment.
Dumbledore almost instinctively extended a hand, grabbing the parchment, holding it at arm's length, staring at the name written on it.
The previously jubilant hall descended into a prolonged silence, everyone staring at the slip of paper in Dumbledore's hand, the unexpected ninth piece of paper. Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat and announced loudly—
"Harry Potter."
"Ah, makes sense now."
William winked at the dumbfounded Cedric, and just as the latter and the crowd in the hall were digesting this turn of events, the red flame surged up yet again, with Dumbledore having no third hand, the parchment was caught by the tallest Madame Maxime.
The woman hesitated for a moment, bewildered, "There's also, William Richard."
"?"
So, the few who were not puzzled by the Goblet of Fire spitting out "Harry Potter" began to be puzzled as well.