Even in the past, the Triwizard Tournament was widely regarded as one of Europe's grandest magical traditions, holding deep cultural significance, especially for the three magical countries and the schools that took part.
And now, in this modern era where magical entertainment and competitive sports captivated the public more than ever, the announcement of the tournament's return was welcomed with even greater fanfare, as waves of enthusiastic reactions spread swiftly across European borders.
As such, beginning the very evening after the selection ceremony, news of the chosen champions swept across Europe, and especially through the participating countries, like wildfire.
The British Daily Prophet, the German Der Magische Bote, and the French La Gazette des Sorciers, rushed to print the champions names, and it did not take long before all six were being spoken of in bustling streets, crowded shops, and quiet corners alike, their fame spreading from one conversation to the next as headlines continued to follow them everywhere.
If it were not for the champions residing at Hogwarts, there was no doubt they would have been swarmed by paparazzi by this point. At least until the day of the trials, however, they would be spared such disturbances, plus, there was no way Dumbledore would allow just anyone to wander the grounds, journalists included.
As for Hogwarts' champions, unlike in the original story, Harry did not have to hang his head low and was instead hailed as a true champion alongside Cedric during this time. His best friend did not turn cold out of envy or jealousy, his housemates did not scrutinize him, and Hogwarts as a whole celebrated that he was among the two chosen to represent their school.
But with great power, or rather fame in this case, came great responsibility, and more than anything now the two boys had to ensure they did not bring embarrassment upon their school, otherwise all that praise and glory would surely turn against them.
Fortunately, the school did not leave the two boys to shoulder everything on their own. Although the rules made it clear that champions could not ask teachers for help during the trials themselves, that did not mean the professors were forbidden from preparing them beforehand.
So beginning the very next day after the champion selection, Harry and Cedric were put through a rigorous, carefully tailored training routine under the guidance of multiple professors across the school. The sessions were designed with the tasks in mind, even if the champions were never told as much. But if they happened to figure it out on their own, well, good for them.
And speaking of the Hogwarts professors, alongside their regular classes, their schedules this year were especially busy because of the tournament. Even before the school term began, Dumbledore had organized specific responsibilities for each of them to ensure everything ran smoothly.
In particular, Maverick and Flitwick were entrusted with one of the most crucial duties, maintaining security both within the school grounds and beyond them throughout the year.
Of course, there was an underlying purpose behind this arrangement that only a select few were aware of, one steered directly by Maverick, and suffice to say, things were progressing exactly as intended under the greater plan unfolding quietly behind the scenes.
---
Inside Hogwarts' Headmaster's office, the sunset light of late summer filtered through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, softly illuminating scattered parchments, glowing instruments, and the quiet stillness that had settled over the room.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, filling the office with a gentle warmth. Behind the large oak desk, Albus Dumbledore leaned back, looking ahead with a faint, knowing smile, then, as if a decision had been made, raised the Elder Wand and traced a slow circle above his head.
Magical energy visibly rippled through the air, causing the space itself to seem to unravel as though an invisible curtain had just dissolved around the room, before a low exhale finally escaped his lips.
With another smooth motion and a softly murmured incantation, he turned toward the portraits lining the walls. Where painted figures should have been, the frames were completely blank, but then, one by one, the portraits returned to their places, colors bleeding back into canvas as familiar faces reappeared.
Dumbledore then offered his predecessors an apologetic smile, only to be met with a collection of eye rolls and a few choice remarks. In fact, it was hardly the first time this had happened, and in recent years, especially whenever the school's new alchemy professor was present, they were routinely warded from listening in on anything discussed within the office.
Some of the portraits muttered about excessive caution, others complained aloud about being shut out of conversations. What was the point of such overcautious behavior? What could they possibly do? They were merely alchemical constructs, not spies sent to eavesdrop on secret meetings.
Dumbledore, however, paid no heed to their remarks and did not rise to their protests. And now, with everything restored, he finally turned his attention back to the occupants of the room. In truth, whatever needed to be discussed had already been settled. All he had done was return the office to its original state.
"My friends." He raised his glass slowly, eyes settling on each of them in turn. "Shall we toast to a fruitful cooperation, then?"
Across from him sat three figures, Maverick at the center, with his mentor Edward to his right and Olympe Maxime to his left. This meeting had been arranged precisely to bring the towering woman into the fold, and Maverick had even been prepared to summon Daddy Merlin if necessary, though fortunately it never came to that.
Just as he had expected, convincing her had proven surprisingly easy. That said, it was not a difficult choice for her, because when four of the most powerful mages stood in agreement, it was already a safe bet from the very beginning.
Never in the history of the magical world had so many Archmages gathered at a single table, whether for good or otherwise. And now, with eight Archmages seated within the ICW, her inclusion meant that fully half of them were aligned with Maverick's plan.
Taking all of that into account, she saw little chance of anything going wrong. At worst, the aftermath would bring scrutiny from the ICW, and Maverick would inevitably be called into question, but that was all. After all, if things unfolded according to the script she had just heard, everything would simply be dismissed as a "coincidence."
Besides, if there was one thing she knew about Maverick, it was that no one could force anything upon him, especially not a bunch of short sighted politicians.
And to be perfectly honest, she too had long grown tired of this decadent tradition. If there truly was a sure way to step into the open, what witch or wizard would still choose to hide?
Edward Garling snorted as he looked at Dumbledore's raised glass, and under any other circumstances he would surely have refused to toast this old schemer he firmly believed Dumbledore still was, no matter how good a relationship his student had with the man. So instead of rejecting the gesture outright, he raised his glass slightly as well, at least for his pupil's sake.
Dumbledore couldn't help but smile, then glanced toward Olympe, and the tall woman answered with a small shrug as she raised her glass as well.
"Here's to a new world order, then."
"That sounds an awful lot like something a villain would say."
"Hey, if I'm the villain, then what does that make you, little Raven? The one pulling all the strings?"
Chuckling softly, Maverick raised his glass, his lips curving into a thin smile. With Olympe now on board, he thought inwardly, things should proceed smoothly, with far fewer variables left to account for.
He raised his glass a little higher. "Then," he said calmly, "to happy cooperation."
A soft clink then echoed through the room as the goblets met and were set back upon the table. Olympe was the first to break the silence, leaning back slightly as she studied Maverick for a moment.
"So what happens now?"
Maverick glanced at her briefly, rubbing his chin in thought. "Well, according to my person on the inside, Riddle's grown increasingly desperate. He's already ordered someone planted within the field security team, at least before the final event, and my guess is that he wants to kidnap Potter as soon as possible."
"Does he really think no one will be ready for something that obvious, or that there won't be tracking magic on the boy?"
"You are quite right, Olympe." Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. "Tom should be well aware that abducting young Harry would serve little purpose beyond exposing himself, which I believe is precisely why he has refrained from acting until now."
"Hence the bait, then?"
"Yes, teacher." Maverick turned toward Edward. "My spy managed to plant the idea, and apparently that lunatic was all too eager to go along with it. Now we simply wait for the right moment, on our terms."
Dumbledore hummed softly, fingers brushing his chin. "So which trial shall we use to force his hand, then?"
"The last one, obviously. The stage is already set for next year, after all."
"So I can assume nothing will go wrong during the first two trials?"
Maverick gave a small nod. "It shouldn't. And in any case, I've marked Potter with both magic and sorcery, so if anything does go wrong, I'll know immediately. Besides, Voldemort's every movement is under my watch... he cannot act unless I allow it."
"Let us hope so." Dumbledore let out a quiet sigh. "For some reason, Tom still has not summoned Severus. Otherwise, we would have two sources from which to gather information..."
"Or he's afraid Snape would turn on him. My guess is that until he resurrects, he won't risk contacting Snape at all..."
Is it fortunate or unfortunate for the old bat? Maverick couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.
---
Days later, with just one week remaining before the scheduled task, one afternoon, just as Maverick had finished his last class and settled into his office, he found himself suddenly cornered by none other than the Golden Trio, who had arrived with what was apparently a very, very important matter on their minds.
In fact, he could already guess why they were here. Behind the scenes, clues about the first task had been subtly, almost coincidentally, revealed to the champions over the past few days, and obviously they wanted to confirm it, or ask for more information about the hints. He just didn't expect them to be so ambiguous about it.
Listening to their carefully phrased questions and their sudden, out of nowhere interest in dragons for purely educational purposes, Maverick couldn't help but be amused.
Well, credit where credit was due. At least they had not said it outright to just any random professor.
"You've already figured out the dragon situation," he hummed, completely ignoring their dropped jaws as he continued, "pretty impressive."
"How did you…"
"But we never said…"
"Oh, really?" Maverick leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "So it's just random curiosity that the three of you are in my office, the only professor you feel comfortable bothering with this sort of thing, asking about Hungarian Horntails, Swedish Short Snouts, and Norwegian Ridgebacks, about calming them, the best ways to put them to sleep…"
He paused, then smiled, giving Harry a small, approving nod.
"Information gathering is a very important part of the competition, Potter. You didn't foolishly wait until the day of the task. Instead, you analyzed the hints provided in advance, and while verifying them, you also took certain precautions."
He let out a quiet chuckle. "As a bonus, I'll add another hint for you. The training you and Cedric, have been undergoing every day with Professor Flitwick, Madam Hooch, and Professor McGonagall… think about it a little more."
"Ah…" Harry's eyes lit up. Indeed, now that he thought about it, it did seem oddly... specific.
"Hints?" Hermione asked. "Are you saying it's deliberate?"
"Oh yes," Maverick replied easily. "And don't think you're the only ones who just happened to stumble upon them. The other champions are in the same position, and I'm fairly certain they've already figured out what the task might be by now as well, but are simply keeping to themselves, believing they have the advantage."
"You mean everyone knows?" Ron asked, looking even more alarmed.
Maverick shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back.
"Again, only the champions would naturally come across the hints, or their closest friends," he added, lifting a brow toward the two beside Harry. "That's the only reason you two know as well."
Hermione hesitated as another thought then suddenly crossed her mind. "That... professor… won't you get into trouble for telling us so directly?"
"Telling you what?" Maverick asked calmly.
"About the hints," Ron said, tilting his head. "Confirming them."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Weasley."
"But you just—"
"Shut up, Ronald."
Hermione jabbed Ron lightly in the ribs, making him wince, then straightened abruptly. Without another word, she grabbed both boys by their sleeves and marched them toward the door.
"We'll see you later, Professor."
Maverick watched the door close behind them, then shook his head in quiet amusement before turning back to the book on his desk.
A teacher's duties still waited, after all, and not everything could be set aside.
He sighed softly and began to read.
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Author's Note:
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