"Then we'll make a change," Dumbledore announced, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "The Goblet of Fire! Before Halloween, any student wishing to compete in the Triwizard Tournament must write their name on a piece of parchment and drop it into the Goblet. Then, on Halloween night, the Goblet will select the champions from the four schools."
He paused, his voice turning grave. "However, I must remind you all to think carefully before submitting your names. Once selected, regardless of who you are, you cannot withdraw. The Triwizard Tournament is dangerous. If chosen, you must see it through to the end."
Hearing this, the students exchanged excited whispers among themselves.
Dumbledore tapped the Goblet. "I will place an Age Line around the vessel. Only those who pass through it may submit their names. Proxy submissions are strictly forbidden. Anyone attempting to bypass this rule will face severe consequences."
"Finally," Dumbledore declared, spreading his arms wide, "I declare the Triwizard Tournament officially open!"
The students clapped enthusiastically, their faces full of anticipation.
Erwin glanced toward where the Goblet would be placed. His chess match with Dumbledore was about to officially begin. He would use the question of Harry Potter's fate as the stakes of this game.
After dinner, the students were led back to their common rooms in an orderly fashion. The delegations from the other three schools were escorted to their designated quarters.
Meanwhile, the heads of the four schools, along with Barty Crouch and his associates, retreated to the small conference room behind the Headmaster's office to discuss the competition's finer details. The format had already been set—dragons for the first challenge, a rescue mission in the lake for the second, and a maze for the final task.
However, one detail remained unresolved.
That detail was named Erwin Cavendish.
Inside the office, Igor Karkaroff spoke first. "I think Erwin Cavendish should be banned from the competition. This must be written into the rules."
The elders from the Eastern delegation and Olympe Maxime remained silent. In truth, they agreed. Erwin was simply too powerful. If he entered, there would be no suspense at all.
The four Heads of House at Hogwarts sat calmly on the sofa. None of them spoke first. Grindelwald looked at Karkaroff with an amused gaze, sending a chill down the Durmstrang Headmaster's spine.
Dumbledore felt a headache coming on. "Erwin isn't even seventeen yet. I don't think you need to worry about him."
Karkaroff sneered. "Albus, do you believe that yourself? I don't think any magic can stop him."
Maxime and the Eastern elders nodded in agreement. Stop Erwin? What a joke. Even if Dumbledore stood guard himself, he likely couldn't prevent Erwin from entering. That was the current reality of Erwin's strength and reputation in the wizarding world.
"Then what do you suggest?" Dumbledore asked, leaning back. "Ban him from the competition? If you want that, why don't you go and discuss it with him yourselves?"
He clearly didn't intend to say another word. If they had a problem, they could take it up with Erwin directly.
Hearing this, Karkaroff fell silent. Go find Erwin? That would be inviting disaster. He had no doubt that if he approached Erwin with this request, the boy would hex him on sight.
Snape sneered. "You want someone else to say it, but you don't dare do it yourself. Erwin is the best student at Hogwarts, just like the students you brought. Not letting him participate is inherently unfair. Not to mention his own wishes—the other students at Hogwarts wouldn't agree either."
Karkaroff knew this perfectly well, but Erwin's strength was truly excessive. For someone like that to compete would make the whole thing a farce.
Just then, Karkaroff's gaze fell upon Barty Crouch, who had been sitting quietly. As a representative of the Ministry of Magic, Karkaroff immediately thought of a potential scapegoat.
"Crouch, I think you should speak with Erwin! You represent the Ministry. You need to establish rules banning him from the competition."
Crouch's eyes widened. Was this man insane? Go find Erwin and tell him he couldn't participate? Was Karkaroff joking?
Crouch's gaze toward Karkaroff turned hostile. Just you wait, you old fool. One day I'll make you pay for this.
"This has nothing to do with the Ministry of Magic," Crouch said coldly. "I'm only responsible for ensuring the fairness of the Tournament. If Mr. Cavendish wishes to participate, the Ministry won't stop him."
Crouch glared at Karkaroff, silently swearing that if the old man kept whining, he would teach him a lesson about the harsh realities of magical politics.
Seeing that his scapegoat wouldn't cooperate, Karkaroff knew he couldn't deflect the issue. He turned his desperate gaze to Headmistress Maxime and the Eastern elders.
"What do you say? Are you just going to let Erwin participate? You know very well that if he does, our students have no chance. We might as well just award the trophy to Hogwarts now."
Maxime wasn't about to be drawn in. Who would offend Erwin now? Even though Erwin hadn't yet made a move against the wider magical world, everyone knew it was only a matter of time. His ambition had already been revealed—he wanted more than Voldemort and Grindelwald combined.
However, Erwin's methods were subtle. The intelligent noticed, but the foolish didn't—or simply didn't care.
"I don't mind," Maxime said, leaning back. "I just brought my students here to broaden their horizons. They live too comfortably. They should experience some challenges. As for the championship? We aren't focused on that."
With that, Maxime effectively removed herself from the discussion. She wasn't getting involved in these politics, not even with her own Fleur competing against the Eastern delegation's Sunny Finch or Durmstrang's Viktor Krum. She knew very well that her students, talented as they were, weren't at that level.
The championship had never been her goal. She was simply here for the experience.