As evening approached, an air of anticipation lingered throughout the castle. Tonight, in full view of everyone, the champions of the three schools would be chosen, embarking on a journey of honor and competition to represent their schools. For each institution, winning the Triwizard Tournament was a matter of pride and determination. To be named a champion came with an immense sense of responsibility and the conviction to win. The title of champion wasn't just a personal achievement—it was a reflection of the magical prowess of each school. Beneath the surface glamour lay a weight as heavy as a mountain.
When Augustus and his companions entered the Great Hall, the place was already packed. The Goblet of Fire had been moved to a new position—it now stood on the staff table, directly in front of Dumbledore's empty chair.
The Halloween feast progressed smoothly, but it was clear that most students had lost interest in the food. Instead, whispers about the upcoming announcement of champions dominated the tables. Yet, Dumbledore remained unfazed, his face radiating a calm, kind smile.
"Snape, you look quite confident about your champion this year. Aren't you worried that your prized protégé, Augustus, might not be interested in the Triwizard Tournament at all?" Professor Sprout teased Snape with a friendly smile.
Snape's stern face remained unmoved. "Knowing his personality, he wouldn't pass up an opportunity like this. So, no, I'm not concerned. You, however, should be worried—Cedric's confidence appears shaky."
Sprout gave an awkward chuckle. Who wouldn't feel unsure when pitted against someone like Augustus? Cedric's misfortune wasn't a lack of talent—it was being born in an era that overlapped with such an extraordinary rival. Competing with Augustus was an uphill battle, even for the most gifted.
Finally, as the golden plates on the tables returned to their original spotless state, the chatter in the hall swelled with excitement. Then Dumbledore stood, and the room instantly fell silent. On either side of him, Karkaroff and Madame Maxime looked just as tense and expectant as everyone else. Ludo Bagman grinned, winking at the students, while Mr. Crouch appeared utterly disinterested, his expression bordering on irritation.
"Well, the Goblet of Fire is ready to make its decision," Dumbledore announced. "I estimate it will take about a minute. Once the names of the champions are announced, I would like them to proceed to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and enter the adjoining room"—he gestured to the door behind the staff table—"where they will receive preliminary instructions."
The flames in the Goblet of Fire suddenly turned red, sparks flying as a tongue of fire shot into the air. A singed piece of parchment emerged from the flames, and the room collectively held its breath.
"The champion for Durmstrang," Dumbledore said clearly, "is Viktor Krum."
Krum turned and offered a friendly smile to Augustus, who nodded back in congratulation. Viktor strode confidently along the staff table and disappeared into the adjacent room.
The applause and murmuring gradually subsided, and all eyes returned to the Goblet. Moments later, the flames turned red again, and a second piece of parchment soared out.
"The champion for Beauxbatons," Dumbledore announced, "is Fleur Delacour!"
"Expected," Loki murmured with satisfaction. "The Goblet must factor in personal strength as part of its selection process. That bodes well for Augustus to be Hogwarts' champion."
The veela-like girl stood gracefully, tossing her silver hair, and walked lightly between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables before disappearing through the door.
As Fleur left, a palpable wave of excitement rippled through the hall. Now, it was time for Hogwarts' champion.
The flames of the Goblet turned red once more, sparks flying as a fiery tongue rose high. Dumbledore plucked the third parchment from the fire and read aloud, "The champion for Hogwarts is Augustus Julius!"
For a moment, the hall fell silent, and then an explosive roar of cheers erupted. It didn't matter whether they were from Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw—everyone was caught in the frenzy. Augustus' age wasn't questioned for even a moment. In the magical world, strength spoke louder than anything else, and Augustus' brilliance was unquestionable. His selection wasn't just a personal triumph but a source of pride for the entire school. In that moment, all houses united in celebration, as if the Triwizard Tournament trophy was already theirs.
Dumbledore watched Augustus walk calmly from the Slytherin table with a mix of surprise and admiration. He hadn't realized how deeply respected this young man was—more so than even a certain boy from years past. Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, meanwhile, wore grim expressions. Even in the far reaches of Europe, Augustus' reputation was well-known. With him as Hogwarts' champion, their own representatives faced a formidable adversary.
Augustus moved unhurriedly through the hall. While his selection involved some clever manipulation, it was clear that there was no better candidate to bring home the championship. With great power came great responsibility, and as a student of Hogwarts, it was his duty to secure glory for the school.
He passed through the door behind the staff table into a room lined with portraits of wizards. A roaring fire crackled in the fireplace opposite him.
Krum, noticing his arrival, turned with a knowing smile. "Congratulations. It seems the day I face you in competition isn't far off."
Augustus returned the smile modestly. "Just lucky, I suppose."
Fleur glanced at Augustus as he entered, a hint of surprise flashing across her face. She seemed momentarily taken aback by the youthfulness of Hogwarts' champion. Yet his poised demeanor and striking appearance made a positive impression. She stepped forward to greet him, and soon the three champions began chatting.
The door creaked open once more, and a smaller figure hesitated before entering. Augustus turned to see Harry Potter, who stood uncertainly, glancing between the three of them.
Fleur tilted her head, her silvery hair cascading over her shoulder. "What's this?" she asked. "Are they calling us back to the hall?"
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