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Halfway through the feast, Hogwarts welcomed two more guests, both from the Ministry of Magic. One was the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman, and the other's arrival surprised everyone.
"Father?"
Draco froze, staring at the man in Ministry robes sitting at the staff table.
It was none other than Draco's father, Lucius.
He had come as a special Ministry liaison, accompanying Ludo Bagman for the gathering of the three schools.
"He never mentioned this to me."
Draco frowned slightly as he looked at his father.
This was not normal.
He decided he would find some time to ask his father about it later.
As the feast drew to a close, Dumbledore cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "I have an important announcement to make."
"I believe you've all heard a few whispers about this beforehand."
"That's right. This year, the legendary Triwizard Tournament, which has been suspended for centuries, will officially be revived."
Even though everyone had already guessed as much, hearing Dumbledore's official announcement still sent a wave of excited chatter through the students.
"Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons will each select a champion," Dumbledore continued.
"Once you are chosen, you will be expected to face this challenge alone. This is a very dangerous competition, so I urge you all to consider carefully before participating." Dumbledore stressed his words with a serious expression.
Most of the students were already too caught up in their own thoughts to listen to Dumbledore anymore. They just wanted to sign up and seize a chance at glory.
Then Lucius, representing the Ministry, announced the rules for the tournament. There would be three tasks in total, and the wizard with the highest score would be the winner. In an effort to minimize casualties, any wizard under the age of seventeen would not be allowed to enter.
This rule was met with an uproar of dissatisfaction and booing from the students. Age had never been the mark of a powerful wizard.
Just look at the famous Mr. Potter. He defeated the Dark Lord as a baby, and he still wasn't seventeen yet.
Was this rule just meant to make things difficult for Mr. Potter?
Dumbledore seemed to have anticipated this reaction, and he had Filch bring out the Goblet of Fire—a large, crudely carved wooden and glass chalice. The cup itself was unremarkable, but it was filled with brilliant blue-white flames.
The flames were not just any ordinary fire.
Dudley used his "Data Magical Eye" and saw that they contained the components of a magical contract.
The Goblet of Fire was indeed a cup of contracts. The "champions" were essentially signing up for the tournament through the Goblet.
Once a contract was made, it could not be broken; otherwise, the consequences would be severe.
Dumbledore drew a circle around the Goblet with his wand, leaving a bright white line.
"This is the Age Line. Anyone under the age of seventeen will not be able to cross this boundary."
"Of course, if you can somehow bypass this line and successfully drop your parchment with your name on it into the cup, then it will be considered a successful entry."
This way, the age restriction wasn't an absolute dead end. As long as you had the ability to get your name in, you were in.
"Starting today until this Thursday, the Goblet of Fire will remain here, waiting for you to enter."
After he said this, many of the students exchanged glances, and their hopeful minds began to stir.
Representing Hogwarts would be an incredible honor.
And the grand prize for the Triwizard Tournament was a thousand Galleons!
Watching Dumbledore, Lucius, Bagman, and the other two Headmasters leave, many of the students began to feel their eagerness rise.
"Anyone who's just hoping for a fluke can forget it."
"The last Triwizard Tournament was stopped because too many people died. In other words... unless you're prepared to face death, there's no point in entering."
Dudley kindly reminded them. His words were like a bucket of cold water, dousing the students' fiery enthusiasm.
Glory was important, but not as important as staying alive.
"Karkaroff."
Just as Karkaroff was about to take the Durmstrang students back to their ship, a familiar voice full of anger sounded from behind him.
Karkaroff whirled around, and his face instantly turned ashen, showing a terrible mixture of fury and fear.
Right in front of him, Moody was staring intently at him with his magical eye.
"It's you!"
Karkaroff gnashed his teeth, glaring at Moody with hatred. His eyes looked as if they could shoot fire, and he was clenching his jaw so hard it seemed as though he might shatter his teeth.
"It is!" Moody glared back, just as defiant. "Good to see you again, Karkaroff."
"The last time we met was over a decade ago, wasn't it? Oh, it feels just like yesterday..."
Moody's tone was as if he were speaking to an old friend, but Karkaroff clearly didn't see it that way.
Sure enough, Moody's tone shifted, and he looked at Karkaroff with mocking contempt. "When I tossed you in Azkaban like a dead dog."
It was Moody who had spent six months relentlessly pursuing and capturing Karkaroff all those years ago... and the former Auror had left a deep-seated fear in Karkaroff's heart.
Moody glanced at Karkaroff's clenched fists and scoffed with disdain.
"From now on, I'll be watching you, always keeping my eye on you, always observing you... I know you've been keeping in touch with those dark wizards. If I catch you making one wrong move, I'll make sure to put you back where you belong—in Azkaban. I promise."
Moody pressed forward, and Karkaroff hurriedly backed away until his back was against the wall with nowhere else to go.
"If I could catch you once, I can catch you twice," Moody said chillingly.
"That's where you belong, living your days in darkness and despair."
"I'm telling you, I'm not afraid of you!" Karkaroff shouted at Moody, but his voice lacked any real conviction.
He had personally experienced Moody's power and knew he was no match. He was no more confident in fighting the old wizard now, even though he was lame, missing an eye, and aging.
A wizard doesn't necessarily get more powerful with age, but an elite Auror from the past, even in his old age, would surely still be a formidable opponent.
The Durmstrang students behind Karkaroff looked at each other, seeing their Headmaster so rattled for the first time.
"Oh, really? Heh." Moody replied dismissively, giving Karkaroff a knowing grin before leaning on his walking stick and limping away.
It wasn't until Moody's figure disappeared down the end of the corridor that Karkaroff let out a long sigh of relief, then twisted his face into a scowl and glared at the spot where his nemesis had vanished.
'That persistent old dog!'