Seeing that most of the students had nearly finished eating, Dumbledore stepped up to the podium once more.
"May I have your attention," he said. "Given the extreme danger of the Triwizard Tournament, the Ministry of Magic has issued a new regulation. I now invite the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation—Mr. Barty Crouch—to address you."
A small door beside the staff table opened.
Barty Crouch Sr. walked out, followed closely by a limping man with a magical eye set deep into his socket.
That man was Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.
A veteran Auror of the Ministry, it was said that nearly half the inmates of Azkaban had been personally sent there by him.
Crouch stepped onto the podium, preparing to speak—only for the enchanted ceiling above the Great Hall to suddenly go haywire.
Moments ago it had been clear skies and brilliant stars.
The next instant, dark clouds churned violently, lightning flashing and thunder roaring.
Mad-Eye Moody immediately strode forward and hurled a spell at the ceiling. The illusion stabilized at once, returning to its serene night sky.
Dumbledore took the opportunity to greet him briefly, after which Moody stepped aside, pulled a flask from his coat, and took a long swig.
"What's he drinking?" Hermione whispered to Arthur.
"Who knows?" Arthur replied lightly. "Maybe Polyjuice Potion."
Hermione rolled her eyes, assuming Arthur was joking.
She had no idea he was telling the truth.
The moment Arthur saw Moody's behavior, he knew—this wasn't the real Mad-Eye at all, but Barty Crouch Jr. in disguise.
Arthur hadn't expected Voldemort to follow the original timeline so closely, rescuing Barty Jr. all the same.
To evade Dumbledore's pursuit for nearly a year, then return to Britain and rescue an old follower—Voldemort truly was formidable.
Which meant the Barty Crouch Sr. on stage was almost certainly already under the Imperius Curse.
Arthur finally understood where the Ministry's confidence in reviving the Triwizard Tournament came from.
Voldemort was clearly pushing things from the shadows.
With Crouch Sr.'s position, passing a proposal like this would be effortless.
Of course, the revival came with conditions—and Crouch's speech made that clear.
"After careful consideration," Crouch announced, "the Ministry has decided that, for safety reasons, no student under the age of seventeen may enter this year's Triwizard Tournament."
The hall exploded into uproar before he even finished speaking.
"That's not fair!" someone shouted.
"To hell with that decision!"
But no matter how loudly they protested, the Ministry's ruling stood.
Truth be told, Voldemort would've preferred lowering the age limit even further—so Harry could enter openly.
That would've spared him the trouble of manipulating Barty Jr. into tampering with the selection.
Unfortunately, that would've drawn Dumbledore's attention far too quickly.
As the hall grew increasingly chaotic, Dumbledore raised his voice.
"Silence! I will now explain how the champions will be selected."
Once the students quieted down, Dumbledore moved to the center of the dais.
There stood a golden structure over two meters tall.
And yes—golden in the literal sense, not the Eastern funerary kind.
With a tap of his wand, the golden shell slowly melted away, revealing what lay inside.
A goblet, nearly as tall as a man.
Its surface was worn and ancient, bearing the scars of time. Pale blue flames flickered within it.
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly.
The flames reminded him of Grindelwald's Fiendfyre—unlike the usual orange-red, this one burned an icy blue.
That had to be the result of Grindelwald's own modifications.
Fiendfyre he could control freely… even use to test loyalty.
Arthur made a mental note to research it later.
After all, he still needed a way to burn away the thorns rejecting Melina at the Erdtree.
But that was a problem for another time.
"This," Dumbledore said, "is the Goblet of Fire."
"Any student wishing to compete must write their name on a piece of parchment and place it into the flames before Thursday evening."
"I know some of you are dissatisfied with the age restriction," he continued calmly. "I will place an enchantment upon the Goblet to prevent students under seventeen from entering."
Then, after a pause, he added, "However—if anyone manages to bypass my magic and submit their name, that entry will still be considered valid."
That last line was clearly meant for Arthur.
Dumbledore had no doubt Arthur could break the enchantment if he wanted.
And as headmaster, he would've loved nothing more than for Hogwarts to claim the championship.
Unfortunately for him, Arthur had zero interest in the Triwizard Tournament.
If he entered, it would be nothing but a complete stomp—boring in every sense.
Besides, he still had a mountain of unfinished business in the Lands Between.
He hadn't logged in for two months due to his travels.
Who knew if Melina—that block of wood—had missed him at all?
Instead, Arthur turned to Hermione and casually nudged her.
"Why don't you give it a try?"
"Huh?" Hermione said around a mouthful of roast meat. "Why would I?"
"To participate in the Triwizard Tournament," Arthur replied. "It'd be good practical training."
"You really think this tournament would push me?" Hermione asked skeptically.
At her current level, she was already on par with elite professors.
She genuinely doubted the competition could force her to go all out.
"Don't worry," Arthur said with a faint smile. "There'll be a moment when you'll have to give everything you've got."
He was thinking of Voldemort.
Hermione didn't know that, of course. To her, it just sounded like wizarding society played dangerously high-stakes games.
If even she might need to go all out, no wonder previous tournaments had such a grim history.
After a moment's thought, Hermione nodded.
"I'll do it."
Dumbledore gave one final warning about the dangers of the tournament, then officially announced the end of the feast.
Students began filing out toward their dormitories.
Since confirming her relationship with Arthur, Hermione had already moved into the Zen Garden.
Partly for the convenience of studying.
Partly because of… certain thoughts of her own.
In her mind, if Ranni could live there, then she absolutely couldn't fall behind.
And so, Gryffindor students witnessed a familiar scene.
Arthur headed toward his room—with Ranni and Hermione following close behind.
At this point, everyone was used to Ranni trailing after Arthur.
Adding Hermione to the picture?
…Yeah. Totally not okay.
The boys were green with envy.
Living with both Ranni and Hermione?
The girls weren't any better—jealous that they got to live with Arthur.
Arthur's dorm still had one empty bed.
Some people even briefly wondered if they could move in too.
They wisely kept that thought to themselves.
That night, Hogwarts gradually fell silent.
Beauxbatons students returned to their enchanted carriages, and Durmstrang students to their magically expanded ship.
It wasn't that Hogwarts lacked space—most dormitories weren't even full.
But no single house could accommodate an entire foreign school.
And neither headmistress was willing to split their students apart.
Back in his room, Arthur lay on his bed and opened the system interface.
It was time for his once-a-year game draw.
Hermione watched him stare at the ceiling and whispered to Ranni, "What's my cousin doing?"
"Probably drawing a new game," Ranni replied.
She knew that every game Arthur obtained represented a brand-new world.
And new worlds always fascinated her.
Arthur had once told her that this connection happened once a year—right at the start of term.
As Hermione and Ranni talked quietly, Arthur completed the draw.
New Game Acquired: Forager
A 2D open-world, pixel-style sandbox survival game.
Players control a small white character, starting from nothing—gathering resources, crafting equipment, and steadily growing stronger.
Once established, they can explore the world freely and build a home of their own.
Arthur opened his eyes.
A new world awaited.
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