“We should focus on the good news, Hermione.” Weilan comforted her, “Hagrid said that the Blast-Ended Skrewts have started killing each other, and there are only about 20 left. He’s finally considering getting rid of these vicious mollusks.”
“Alright.” Hermione gave a bitter smile, deciding not to bother Hagrid.
“Oh, right, Hagrid also said that the Triwizard Tournament tasks are things we’ve never seen before…”
Hermione remembered the feeling of her interest being piqued by Hagrid in his hut: “What do you think it will be?”
“I don’t know.” Weilan looked up at the sky, not because it was about to rain, but to prevent Hermione from seeing his guilty conscience while lying.
Of course, as a transmigrator, he knew all the tasks.
The Halloween feast that night was the moment the champions’ names would be announced. They arrived early in the Great Hall, ate the sumptuous food from the golden plates, and then began to wait restlessly for the champions to be revealed.
Because it was Halloween, the Great Hall was decorated with many pumpkin lanterns. Ghosts floated over the pumpkin lanterns, and every child, in the flickering candlelight, found ample reasons for their house’s entrant to be chosen as champion.
For example, Fred and George had already graciously accepted their defeat and began to enumerate all the shining qualities of Angelina, the Gryffindor girl who had put her name in, and why the Goblet of Fire must choose her.
“She’s been a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team for a long time!”
“She’s very strong, you know, taming a broomstick requires strength and skill.”
“She’s a tall, dark-skinned, beautiful girl, much better than those sickly pale-faced Slytherins!”
The long, arduous dinner finally ended, and the golden plates on the long tables returned to their spotless state.
As Dumbledore stood up, the boisterous Great Hall immediately fell silent.
“The Goblet is about to make its decision, and there are some things our champions need to know.”
Dumbledore said to all the students.
When Dumbledore said this, Madam Maxime and Karkaroff beside him looked just as nervous as everyone else. Everyone listened carefully to what the champions needed to do:
“Once the champions’ names have been announced, I would ask them to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber.”
He pointed to the door behind the staff table.
“They will receive their preliminary instructions there.”
After saying this, he took out his wand and waved it with a flourish.
Immediately, all the candles extinguished except for the pumpkin lanterns, which still glowed with an orange light, casting fuzzy, hazy shadows throughout the Great Hall.
The light from the Goblet of Fire was magnified infinitely, and everyone’s gaze was fixed on its blue-white flames.
The flames in the Goblet suddenly turned red, sparks flew out, and a tongue of fire shot up, from which a charred piece of parchment flew out—everyone in the Great Hall held their breath.
The flames then returned to blue and white. Dumbledore held up the parchment and read the name on it:
“The Durmstrang champion—is Viktor Krum!”
Amidst cheers and excitement, Viktor Krum stood up from beside the Slytherin table and walked somewhat listlessly towards Dumbledore.
He turned right, walked along the staff table, and entered the adjacent room through that door.
A few seconds later, the flames turned red again. A second piece of parchment shot out from the flames.
“The Beauxbatons champion—is Fleur Delacour!”
Fleur proudly lifted her head. Her silver hair, illuminated by the orange pumpkin lanterns, shone like a dazzling sunset. She bowed gracefully and walked lightly between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
Sparks flew, and a third piece of parchment shot out. This time it was for the Hogwarts champion, and the atmosphere in the Great Hall grew tense…
Weilan remained composed, silently repeating the fated champion’s name in his heart:
“Cedric Diggory.”
However, when Dumbledore clearly saw the name on the parchment, he paused:
“The Hogwarts champion is—Daphne Greengrass!”
For a moment, the Great Hall was silent. Then, at the Slytherin long table, only a few younger students cheered a few times before realizing the atmosphere was wrong and fell silent.
Daphne’s face was pale, and she sat there, unable to utter a single word.
Pansy Parkinson, sitting next to her, anxiously stood up and shouted: “This is impossible! Daphne never put her name into that cup! We’re not interested in such dangerous activities at all.”
“And… Daphne is only in fourth year, she’s not old enough at all!”
Mr. Ludo Bagman, who had been cheerful since entering the Great Hall, now looked flustered. Mr. Crouch frowned, his cold eyes scanning everyone in the Great Hall.
Karkaroff and Madam Maxime were quite at a loss—but they weren’t angry yet. After all, the Hogwarts champion being younger was more advantageous for their school’s champions.
Dumbledore gently shook the Goblet, as if judging whether it would spit out another name.
But there was nothing, and even the scattered sparks had disappeared.
Weilan had guessed wrong. Cedric Diggory was not chosen as champion.
And the arrogant noble lady Daphne, who had been chosen as champion, was already crying. It was clear how unwilling she was to participate in this Triwizard Tournament.
Professor Snape quickly walked to Dumbledore’s side and conversed with him. Then Dumbledore, Snape, and the two magical officials presiding over the competition, the four of them, discussed in low voices.
“Daphne Greengrass.”
Their discussion concluded, and Dumbledore called Daphne’s name.
“Every champion chosen by the Goblet of Fire must represent her school in the Triwizard Tournament.”
Dumbledore had said this yesterday. Now he repeated it again.
Daphne’s legs were so weak she could barely walk.
Snape walked over and accompanied the weeping Daphne through the door into the champions’ room.
After Daphne’s figure disappeared, the entire Great Hall instantly erupted.
“Oh, Merlin’s saggy trousers!”
Ron looked like he was about to faint.
“I’d rather that pretty boy from Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, be champion.”
“Look at that Daphne, what kind of champion has legs so weak they can’t walk, crying, and has to be helped in by a Professor?”
Dean stared in confusion at the door Daphne had last entered: “But she really isn’t old enough, and she’s very resistant, so she shouldn’t have actively sought a way to fool the age line.”
People in the Great Hall were still buzzing with discussion.
“We underestimated Daphne.” Fred said to George, “I didn’t expect a little Slytherin girl to find a way to trick that age line.”
“What exactly is going on?” Hermione shook Weilan’s arm, “Why was Daphne chosen as champion? Many people more qualified than Daphne, like Angelina, also entered their names.”
“I don’t know.” Weilan could only answer him this way, but Weilan actually knew in his heart that Daphne absolutely did not put her name in on her own initiative.
In the original story, this Triwizard Tournament went awry. Harry, who was originally unqualified, was chosen as champion.
However, the actual situation was—the impostor Mad-Eye Moody secretly put Harry’s name in and used Confundo to make the Goblet of Fire spit out Harry’s name.
He did this not out of kindness or fun, but as a crucial part of Lord Voldemort’s plan for resurrection.
