On the vast open field, beyond the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, the world gathered.
Scores of students from all the Schools and Institutions had lined up in files in their School uniforms, looking like colorful rectangular blocks from the sky. The Schools' banners also fluttered tall and mightily in front of each block, their flapping noise filling the entire atmosphere in the silence.
In front of those students, seated in a large semicircular row, were Professors, Officials, Politicians, and all those whose names had earned their places in people's memories.
Seven Magical Schools.
Ten Magical Institutions and Academies.
A total of seventeen blocks of students — chosen for the Intercontinental Tournament of Magic!
There was a grandness in the air as one looked at these students.
But even from the group of eminent wizards and witches overseeing the Tournament today, only a handful recognized the true worth of this grandness. Only a handful of these grand personalities recognized the potential of these students, chosen out of thousands.
They weren't merely a group of highly capable students.
They… were officers.
Sadly, there was no time to train these students and let them rise to the posts they were meant to hold in the coming war.
All that could be done now was to make the students realize the gravity of the responsibility that rested on their shoulders from this moment onwards.
Some of these exceptional students must have already guessed the true purpose of the Intercontinental Tournament of Magic. Some of them must have already guessed what lay ahead for them. Some of them knew what the world would be expecting of them and what kind of price they would have to pay to meet those expectations.
Not all knew that, though.
And even those who knew had no grasp on the difference between imagination and reality.
Lord Black Phoenix stood up, his long, black beard fluttering the same as the banners in front of him.
He was not part of any School today.
His seat wasn't even placed with the other Hogwarts Professors.
Today, he was nothing but Lord Black Phoenix — the Supreme General of the Order of Black Phoenix.
He didn't know much about the Supreme part, though.
The members of the International Confederation of Wizards, which was now absorbed into the Order as well, had taken the word from Supreme Mugwump — a title given to the elected leader of the Confederation.
The Order of Black Phoenix wasn't similar to the Confederation, despite it being much grander and fiercer in nature. Nor had its members elected Dumbledore. So, they had added the General part to it, making the title more… suitable, letting people know what the Order truly represented and what it truly was — a resistance; a force; a grand military!
Regardless of what title they had given him, Lord Black Phoenix was fully aware of his role.
Now more so than ever.
The time he had bought by making an Unbreakable Vow with Lord Yellow Warlock was running out.
He wasn't sure if Voldemort had learned of his Horcrux's destruction, either.
Given that the diary was destroyed much earlier, it seemed unlikely. But that could also be a calculated measure from the Dark Lord. Who knew what kind of changes he had undergone that night, physically and mentally?
No.
This was a battle against time.
It was his battle against time, Lord Black Phoenix told himself, clenching his right hand into a fist… and failing.
General Severus Snape had done his best to mitigate the strange curse the ring had carried, buying him some time.
However, the curse would kill him one day, Lord Black Phoenix knew.
Six months? A year? Tomorrow?
His body was reacting strangely toward the curse, making it impossible to tell.
He had been resurrected many times by burning the souls he had consumed from other Dumbledores across different timelines. The ring's curse was killing him, but… strangely. It was like it didn't know when to spread further and when to stall, making it hurt even more.
Lord Black Phoenix had lived through all kinds of pain.
This… was different.
This had a bite to it; a highly venomous, soul-piercing bite.
Yet, he had no choice but to accept this pain, just as he had accepted the title of Lord Black Phoenix and now the Supreme General.
As the Ministers, Professors, Headmasters, and non-participating students from all the Schools gathered in the distance beyond the blocks of candidates, looked at him, he walked forward, coming to a stop at the center of the semicircle.
"The Tournament will have three stages," Lord Black Phoenix said, his voice reaching all ears magically. "Unlike the Triwizard Tournament last year, none of the stages will have eliminations."
Whispers flooded the entire field because of the sheer size of the audience.
The candidates in front of Lord Black Phoenix and the officials behind him kept quiet.
"Like the Triwizard Tournament," the Supreme General continued, "the Intercontinental Tournament of Magic will have two groups of candidates. A Junior Group, comprising students from second to fourth years, and a Senior Group, with students from fifth to seventh years. For the Institutions that don't have this structure, students are allotted to each group as per the magical knowledge and experience they have accumulated. Age… was not an alternative for obvious reasons."
Only one reason, with a name of its own — Darcie Malfoy.
"Each student will be given points for each stage," Lord Black Phoenix explained. "The student with the most points at the end of the Tournament will be the winner. The criteria to accumulate points will be different for each stage and will be shared in a moment. First, let me tell you the most exciting part… the reward."
This was one thing that the candidates shared with the students in the audience.
Last year's tournament had gone down the drain. But, even then, not many had been looking forward to the Triwizard trophy, not as much as they had wanted to win the tournament.
So, when Lord Black Phoenix mentioned the reward, they already knew it wasn't a trophy, making their hearts beat fast.
The Supreme General of the Order of Black Phoenix smiled at that excitement.
"The Winner…" he said, drawling. "…will be awarded… this…"
And, with a burst of black flames, an object appeared over Lord Black Phoenix's head…
… a broom, with a sleek, glossy black wooden shaft and, instead of bristles, tongues of black flames crackling at its end!