The blue flames danced hypnotically, casting flickering shadows across the Great Hall. Every eye was fixed on the Goblet of Fire.
Dumbledore's voice rang out clearly. "This is the Goblet of Fire. Anyone wishing to participate in the Tournament must submit their name to the Goblet. You will write your name and school on a piece of parchment and drop it into the flames. The Goblet will select the most worthy candidates from each school. To ensure fairness, an Age Line will be drawn around the Goblet. No one under seventeen will be able to cross it."
Murmurs rippled through the hall. Some students looked disappointed, while others seemed relieved. The older students, however, wore expressions of determination.
"The champions will be selected on Halloween night," Dumbledore continued. "The Goblet will make its choice based on merit, potential, and worthiness. Once selected, participation is binding—there is no backing out. The Tournament consists of three tasks, spaced throughout the school year. These tasks will test your courage, your magical ability, and your resourcefulness. The winner will receive the Triwizard Cup and a prize of one thousand Galleons."
The hall erupted in excited chatter. One thousand Galleons was a substantial sum, even for wealthy families.
Erwin listened with mild interest. He had no intention of participating—the Tournament held little appeal for him. He had more important matters to attend to, and frankly, the tasks would likely be too simple to challenge him meaningfully. Besides, his participation would overshadow the other champions and defeat the purpose of the competition.
Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. "The Goblet will remain in the entrance hall, available to all eligible students who wish to submit their names. I urge you to think carefully before doing so. This Tournament is not to be entered lightly."
With that, Dumbledore clapped his hands, and the feast began in earnest. Platters of food appeared on the tables, and the students dug in with enthusiasm, their conversations dominated by speculation about who might enter and who might be chosen.
At the Slytherin table, several older students were already discussing their chances.
"I'm definitely putting my name in," one seventh-year declared. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
"The tasks will be dangerous, though," another cautioned. "Dumbledore wasn't exaggerating."
"That's what makes it worthwhile," the first student countered. "Glory and danger go hand in hand."
Erwin ate quietly, half-listening to the conversation. Beside him, Charlotte leaned closer.
"Master, do you think any of our house will be selected?"
"Likely," Erwin replied. "Slytherin has always produced capable wizards. The Goblet will recognize that."
"And if you were to enter?" Charlotte asked carefully.
Erwin smiled faintly. "I won't. This Tournament is for others to prove themselves. I have no need of such validation."
Charlotte nodded, understanding. Erwin's reputation was already well-established. Participating would be redundant.
Across the hall, Sunny Finch was deep in conversation with her fellow Kunlun students.
"Do you think any of us should enter?" one asked.
"It would be interesting," Sunny Finch mused. "A chance to test ourselves against Western champions. But the rules are unfamiliar, and we're guests here. It might be presumptuous."
"Perhaps," another student agreed. "But we're here to learn and exchange knowledge. What better way than through competition?"
Sunny Finch considered this. She glanced toward the Slytherin table, where Erwin sat. If she were honest with herself, part of her wanted to enter simply to see if she could impress him. But that was a foolish reason to risk her life.
At the Beauxbatons table, Fleur was already making plans.
"I'm entering," she announced to her companions.
"Are you sure?" one girl asked nervously. "It sounds terribly dangerous."
"All the more reason," Fleur said with a confident smile. "I didn't come all this way to sit on the sidelines. Besides, representing Beauxbatons in the Tournament would be an honor."
Her sister looked worried but said nothing. She knew Fleur well enough to recognize when her mind was made up.
At the Durmstrang table, Viktor Krum sat in brooding silence. His fellow students assumed he would enter—he was their star, after all. But Krum was conflicted. Part of him wanted the glory, but another part knew that entering would inevitably bring him into conflict with Erwin, if only by proximity. And Karkaroff's warnings echoed in his mind.
Still, he had his pride. He wouldn't let fear of Erwin dictate his choices.
As the feast continued, the Great Hall buzzed with energy and anticipation. The Triwizard Tournament had officially begun, and already the political and social dynamics were shifting.
Dumbledore watched from the staff table, his expression thoughtful. He had set events in motion, and now he could only wait to see how they unfolded.
Beside him, Grindelwald observed the students with calculating eyes.
"Quite the spectacle," Grindelwald murmured.
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Let us hope it remains only a spectacle."
Grindelwald's lips curved into a slight smile. "Where's the fun in that, Albus?"
Dumbledore sighed. Some things never changed.
As the evening wore on, the students began to disperse, returning to their dormitories with heads full of dreams of glory and adventure. The Goblet of Fire sat waiting in the entrance hall, its blue flames casting an eerie glow.
The Tournament had begun, and nothing would ever be quite the same.
Erwin returned to the Slytherin common room with Charlotte and the other prefects. As they settled in, Pansy approached with a question.
"Sir, do you think we should encourage anyone to enter?"
"That's their decision," Erwin said. "I won't discourage anyone who feels ready, but I won't push anyone either. The Tournament is dangerous, and each person must weigh the risks for themselves."
"Wise as always," Hermione said, joining the conversation. She had followed them down from the Great Hall.
"Just practical," Erwin corrected. "Glory is meaningless if you're dead."
The group fell silent, sobered by the blunt truth.
Outside, the castle settled into nighttime quiet. But in the entrance hall, the Goblet of Fire continued to burn, waiting for the brave—or the foolish—to submit their names.
The Triwizard Tournament had returned to Hogwarts, and with it came the promise of excitement, danger, and change.
For better or worse, the game had begun.