The headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, stood at the flaming Goblet of Fire and spoke. His words, his intonation, did not let go of the young minds, and the topic of the speech itself could not leave indifferent anyone familiar with the "Three Wizards" competition.
None of the participants survived the last time, so for a long time, none of the founding countries of this tournament dared to resume the old tradition. Time passed, years and events covered the memory of the Triwizard Tournament with the sands of forgetfulness, and only a few people remembered and knew about it.
But now, after many, many years, it has been decided that this tradition should be renewed in the old framework as it was originally conceived: only three European schools of magic and wizardry take part in the Triwizard Tournament, only representatives of Durmstrang, Beauxbatons and Hogwarts have a chance to flare up in the firmament, and it depends on them whether the light of a supernova will shine or the memory and glory of the champion will disappear forever.
There have been suggestions to expand the tournament to include other schools, but the decision of the participating countries was unanimous and unyielding: The Triwizard Tournament must be preserved in its original form!
On that Friday night, the Great Hall of Hogwarts School was crowded, but not excessively so — no one was standing on each other's heads. Students of the schools sat at tables, and official representatives of the countries, distinguished ladies and gentlemen, journalists — lined up against the walls. It was not very comfortable, but everyone could see and hear everything. In the flashes of the magical cameras, Headmaster Dumbledore smiled, his glasses flashing mischievously at those present, sparks flying across his silver robes embroidered with blue, gold and scarlet lines and stars.
The goblet on the archaic stone stand drew everyone's attention: the fire shook, hummed, scattered yellow sparks, turned scarlet, blue, flared, and spit out a piece of burnt, smoking parchment. The Hogwarts Headmaster deftly caught it, brought it closer, and turned it toward the light of the Goblet Fire — the lights dimmed for this action, creating a somber, intriguing atmosphere. The entire room froze, people holding their breath, never taking their eyes off Albus Dumbledore.
— The champion of Durmstrang School, the first participant in the Triwizard Tournament, Victor Krum! — announced the headmaster's voice loud and clear.
As soon as the man's voice rang out, the hall exploded with applause. There were shouts, whistles, and cheers. From his seat at the table, a medium-sized, strong, broad-shouldered young man rose. He squared his shoulders and walked forward, not looking back. As he approached Dumbledore, he shook his outstretched hand and walked out the door. The hall fell silent again.
There was another flash of color, a fairy tale of light from the Goblet of Fire, a flash, sparks, and then a new piece of parchment lit the flames, which had quieted for a moment.
— Champion of Beauxbatons, runner-up in the Triwizard Tournament, the lovely Fleur Delacour! Please!
The girl rose to her feet, a wave of light passing through her sky-blue robes to match her starry eyes, as if enveloping her slender figure, highlighting the girl named. The bright smile of pink lips captured more than one heart in an instant. Here was the girl, receiving their greetings, though one could see restraint and discontent in the French delegation, Fleur hiding behind the door where the first champion had disappeared. The room fell silent again in anticipation.
Most of those present were English, so the next selection would determine the chances of the hosts of this tournament.
The flame trembled, flashed with colors, scattered sparks, burst into flames, and the third parchment spun in the air. The people held their breath in unison, as if they were afraid that the parchment would turn into a frightened bird and fly away, destroying many hopes and fantasies at once. It seemed as if the hasty battle of many young hearts would shake the walls of the great castle.
— The third contestant in the Triwizard Tournament, the champion of Hogwarts, Sora Hoshino! Mr. Hoshino, please!
This time, the crowd's reaction was excellent. Many voices of disappointment spread across the faculty tables, but just as many shouted in support of the chosen one. The Japanese man stood up, and all the adults fixed their eyes on his tall figure. There wasn't a wizard in Europe who hadn't heard this guy's name, but seeing pictures and seeing him in person, albeit at a distance, were two different things.
The guy was not dressed in a robe like the others, over his dark clothes there was a cape, unusual for these lands, which was not visible on him a second ago.
It was a beautiful animated embroidery of a pink blossoming branch with delicate petals, almost the size of his entire back. Between his shoulder blades, a large circle with a five-leafed flower on a background of fire, and around a large one, smaller circles, but only white, empty for now. A contented smile, as if radiating an inner light, unusual lilac eyes, light brown hair gleaming with silver sparks.
He froze, glanced around the four faculty tables, and bowed slightly to each house, making the Gryffindor murmur even louder. Hoshino then made his way to the Headmaster's office, shook the man's hand, accepted his piece of parchment, and disappeared behind the door. After a few seconds, the noise died down, but those present continued to discuss what had happened.
Harry Potter breathed a sigh of relief: all this time he had been feeling bad, just as he had in previous years. Until the very last moment, the teenager had feared the worst, but the storm seemed to have passed. Headmaster Dumbledore didn't stop smiling, the general excitement and interest overwhelmed the hall. The man began to speak, and Harry couldn't take his eyes off the Goblet of Fire, feeling his heart ready to break and fall to the ground.
A new flash, a new piece of parchment, and the soft voice of the Headmaster echoed in the absolute silence of the Great Hall, pronouncing the verdict: "Harry Potter. The boy felt a chill run through his body, his throat went dry and a clammy cold sweat covered his skin. He closed his eyes, hoping it was some kind of mistake.
— Harry Potter! — Professor Dumbledore's voice was louder and more insistent, making the boy jump.
— Come on, Harry, come out! — His friend shook him awake.