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Chapter 549: The Goblet of Fire

Remembering him in his neat suit at the Quidditch World Cup, Evan thought he looked strange in wizard’s robes. His toothbrush mustache and severe parting looked very odd next to Dumbledore’s long white hair and beard.

If he were a fake Barty Crouch, that would be really amazing.

Of course, that was just Evan’s speculation. Barty Crouch Jr. might also be a fake student from Beauxbatons or Durmstrang.

Just in case, he would return to the Common Room and use the Marauder’s Map to confirm it.

“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore continued, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”

It was so confirmed that the five of them would be members of the jury.

At the mention of the word “champions,” the attentiveness of the listening students seemed to sharpen. Perhaps Dumbledore had noticed their sudden stillness, for he smiled as he said, “The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch.”

Filch, who had been lurking unnoticed in a far corner of the Hall, now approached Dumbledore carrying a great wooden chest encrusted with jewels. It looked extremely old.

A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students.

In order to see more clearly, Colin stood on his chair. His brother Dennis Creevey also stood on his chair to see it properly, but, being so tiny, his head hardly rose above anyone else’s.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” said Dumbledore as Filch placed the chest carefully on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways: their magical prowess … their daring … their powers of deduction … and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.”

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament,” Dumbledore went on calmly, “one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire!”

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. The lid creaked slowly open. Dumbledore reached inside it and pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup. It would have been entirely unremarkable had it not been full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames.

Evan could feel that it was a magic item with great magic power, but it was not a legendary magic item.

Its role was to select the respective champions among the students of the three wizarding schools, and let them sign contracts with the Triwizard Tournament.

Being strong enough, one can make the Goblet of Fire confused, thus affecting the selection of the champions.

With the power of Barty Crouch and Caresius, this could be done very easily.

Maybe they had already put Harry’s name in it. The Goblet of Fire had been kept by the Ministry of Magic. As one of the organizers and members of the Jury of the Triwizard Tournament, Crouch could easily touch it without arousing suspicion.

Dumbledore closed the casket and placed the goblet carefully on top of it, where it would be clearly visible to everyone in the Hall.

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” said Dumbledore. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.”

“As I have said before, to ensure that no underage student yields to temptation,” said Dumbledore, “I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.”

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

“An Age Line!” said Fred Weasley, his eyes glinting. “Well, that’s easy to handle. That should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn’t it? And once your name’s in that goblet, you’re laughing … it can’t tell whether you’re seventeen or not!”

At this time, the students all made their way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance hall.

“But I don’t think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance,” said Hermione, “we just haven’t learned enough…”

“Speak for yourself,” said George shortly. “Think about Evan. He’s only 13. How many people in the school can be stronger than him?!”

“Evan is different, and he’s not going to participate. He promised Dumbledore!” Hermione said immediately.

But George ignored her and turned to the others and said, “Harry, Ron, Colin, you’ll try and get in, won’t you?”

The three of them hesitated and finally nodded.

“As long as you can cross Dumbledore’s age limit line, it’s not a bad thing to try.” Harry remembered Dumbledore’s insistence that nobody under seventeen should submit their name, but then the wonderful picture of himself winning the Triwizard Tournament filled his mind.

“By the way, where is he?” said Ron. “Dumbledore didn’t say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?” He suddenly remembered this and hurriedly searched in the crowd for Krum.

Looking at Ron, he was eager to invite Krum to sleep in his bedroom.

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