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They exchanged uneasy glances, silently choosing to ignore Karkaroff's strange outburst.
"I urge everyone to remain calm," Dumbledore said, his voice steady but firm.
"I believe the Goblet of Fire has been tampered with in some way."
"Tampered with?" Madame Maxime scoffed, her arms crossed.
"The Goblet of Fire is a powerful magical artifact. Deceiving it would take extraordinary skill!"
"I'm well aware," Dumbledore replied.
"It would require a Confundus Charm of immense strength. My best guess is that someone entered Neville's name under a nonexistent fourth school, ensuring he was the only candidate from it."
"But that is merely speculation," Madame Maxime said sharply, narrowing her eyes.
Dumbledore sighed, seeing the skepticism in the room.
"We do not yet know how this happened," he admitted.
"But the fact remains—Cedric and Neville have been chosen. We must move forward."
"But Dumbledore—" Madame Maxime started, her tone heated.
"My dear Madame Maxime," Dumbledore interrupted gently, his blue eyes twinkling.
"If you have a better solution, I am all ears."
She fell silent, her expression stormy.
The tension in the room was palpable, but one person seemed unaffected—Ludo Bagman, who practically bounced on his heels with excitement.
"Well then, shall we carry on?" Bagman said, rubbing his hands together.
"Time to brief our champions! Everyone, gather round!"
As the others turned their attention to Bagman, Dumbledore stepped closer to Ethan.
"Ethan," he said quietly, "I'll be investigating the Goblet of Fire. But in the meantime, I need your help with something else."
Ethan nodded, waiting.
"Train Mr. Longbottom," Dumbledore said, his voice grave.
"Ensure that he at least has the ability to defend himself. You and I both know he's not ready to face the Triwizard Tournament alone."
Ethan hesitated for only a moment before nodding.
"Alright. I'll do it."
Just then, the door to the room swung open, and the rest of the gathering spilled into the hallway.
It seemed Bagman had finished explaining the tournament's rules.
Madame Maxime wrapped a protective arm around Fleur and guided her away, whispering in French.
When they spotted Dumbledore and Ethan, both paused to offer brief nods before departing.
Dumbledore turned to the champions.
"Neville, Cedric," he said with a kind smile,
"I suggest you both get some rest. I'm sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff will want to celebrate—this gives them the perfect excuse to cause a bit of chaos. It would be cruel to deny them the opportunity."
Cedric grinned, clearly eager to join the festivities.
Neville, however, remained still, his face pale. The weight of fear hung over him, pressing down like a heavy cloak.
"Neville, I think it would be beneficial for you to train with Professor Ethan during this time," Dumbledore suggested gently.
"He can teach you some valuable skills for the tournament."
Neville looked up at Dumbledore and Ethan, his eyes wide with astonishment.
"O-Okay, Professor Dumbledore," he said hesitantly, still overwhelmed by the situation.
He knew Professor Ethan was a powerful wizard—training with him would certainly be helpful.
Cedric, who had been standing nearby, glanced at Neville with a flicker of envy.
After a brief moment of hesitation, he finally spoke up.
"Professor Dumbledore, Professor Ethan—I'd like to train as well," Cedric said, his tone hopeful.
Dumbledore smiled.
"Of course, Cedric! I'm sure Professor Ethan would be more than happy to train you too."
Ethan gave a small nod of confirmation.
"Thank you, Professor Ethan! Professor Dumbledore!" Cedric said gratefully.
With that, Cedric and Neville turned to leave. Cedric patted Neville's back reassuringly, whispering words of encouragement as they walked away.
As the last of the students exited, the Great Hall fell eerily silent.
The floating candles had burned low, their flickering flames casting long shadows that made the grinning jack-o'-lanterns appear almost sinister.
Dumbledore exhaled softly. "We should all get some rest. I have much to investigate regarding this... troubling matter."
Ethan gave a brief nod, and the two parted ways—Dumbledore returning to his study to examine the Goblet of Fire, while Ethan made his way back to his office.
As he stepped through the doors of the Great Hall, he spotted three familiar figures standing in the corridor—Harry, Hermione, and Ron.
They were huddled around Neville, speaking to him in hushed, comforting tones. Cedric had already headed back to the Hufflepuff common room.
Noticing Ethan's approach, the trio immediately straightened.
"Professor Ethan!" Hermione blurted out, stepping forward urgently.
"We can vouch for Neville! He didn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire—we swear!"
Ethan held up a hand to calm her. "Don't worry, Hermione. No one believes Neville did this himself," he reassured them.
"But he still has to compete, doesn't he?" Ron asked warily.
Ethan sighed. "I'm afraid so. The Goblet's decision is binding. Once a name is chosen, the champion must participate."
"What? No!" Ron exclaimed, his voice rising before he quickly lowered it, glancing at Neville.
He leaned in and whispered, "Neville will die in that tournament!"
Ethan's expression remained serious. "Headmaster Dumbledore and I are aware of the risks. That's why we're putting measures in place. Neville and Cedric will receive professional training."
Hearing this, the trio visibly relaxed.
"With Professor Ethan training him, Neville will be alright," Harry said, more to himself than anyone else.
Ethan gave them a small smile.
"Now, I think it's time you all head back to your common room. Neville is a Gryffindor champion—you should celebrate."
The three nodded, exchanging glances before turning to Neville.
"Come on," Hermione said encouragingly, "let's get back to the common room. The others are probably waiting."
Neville hesitated but eventually allowed himself to be led away, still looking dazed from the night's events.
Ethan watched them go before heading toward his office.
He had just joined the Order of the Phoenix, entrusted with responsibilities by Dumbledore, and now this unexpected turn of events had only added to his growing workload.
There was much to be done.