Harry Potter with Technology System

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Once the Sorting was over, Dumbledore stood, raising his hands to quiet the Hall. His speech was brief and typical, welcoming the students back and reminding them of the school's rules.Then, with a wave of his hand, the golden plates filled with food, and the feast began.

The Great Hall buzzed with conversation as students caught up after the summer break. The clatter of silverware and the occasional burst of laughter created a lively atmosphere. Harry filled his plate, listening idly as Daphne and Tracey debated whether the treacle tart this year was better than last year's, while Pansy complained about the lack of variety in the vegetable selection.

Across the room, the first-years were still looking around in awe, their nervousness gradually giving way to excitement. The Gryffindor table was particularly loud, with Fred and George leading what sounded like a very off-key rendition of the Irish Quidditch team's victory chant. McGonagall looked as though she might intervene, but Dumbledore simply chuckled, letting the chaos continue.

After the feast, Dumbledore rose again, his hands raised slightly to quiet the chatter. The Hall slowly settled, attention drifting toward the Headmaster as he smiled down at the sea of students.

"It is my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." 

"What?" Ginny gasped. She looked around at Fred and George, her fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbhedore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore began, his voice carrying easily across the room, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

The Hall erupted with noise. Conversations broke out at every table, students craning their necks to talk excitedly to their neighbors.

"You're JOKING!" Fred called out from the Gryffindor table, loud enough to carry over the din.

Laughter rippled through the Hall at his outburst, and even Dumbledore chuckled softly. "I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he replied. "Though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar—"

"Headmaster," McGonagall interrupted, clearing her throat with an unmistakable tone of warning.

Dumbledore paused, then smiled sheepishly. "Ah, perhaps another time." His eyes twinkled as he refocused. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes. The Triwizard Tournament."

Students leaned forward, their attention locked onto him.

"For those of you unfamiliar," Dumbledore continued, "the Triwizard Tournament was established around seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. Each school selects a champion to represent them, and these champions compete in three magical tasks. The tournament was designed to foster international cooperation and camaraderie among young witches and wizards."

He paused, letting the history sink in.

"Of course," he added, his voice taking a graver tone, "it was discontinued after the death toll became… unacceptably high."

"Death toll?" Hermione whispered sharply, her face creased with worry.

The murmur of excitement in the Hall suggested most students weren't concerned about deaths that had happened centuries ago.

Dumbledore pressed on. "There have been several attempts over the years to revive the tournament, none of which succeeded—until now. Our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have worked tirelessly to ensure that this year's tournament will be safe for all participants. That said, the tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, as they are meant to test a wizard's skill, courage, and ingenuity."

The room buzzed again as students whispered to each other, some already imagining themselves standing victorious with the Triwizard Cup.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October with their shortlisted champions," Dumbledore explained. "The selection of the Hogwarts champion, along with the other two champions, will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete."

The mention of the prize caught immediate attention. "A thousand Galleons?" Fred whispered to George, his eyes wide with excitement.

"They're not stopping me from entering," Fred added under his breath, looking determined. "No chance."

Harry glanced around, noticing similar reactions across the Hall. At every table, students were whispering animatedly, some practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of competing.

Dumbledore raised his hand again, signaling for quiet. "Now, I know many of you are eager to bring the Triwizard Cup back to Hogwarts," he said, his voice calm but firm. "However, it has been decided by the heads of the participating schools and the Ministry of Magic that an age restriction will be imposed. Only students who are of age—seventeen years or older—will be eligible to put their names forward."

Groans of disappointment spread through the younger years, while the Weasley twins openly scowled at the news.

"This restriction is necessary," Dumbledore continued, his gaze sweeping across the room, "to ensure the safety of all participants. Even with precautions, the tasks will be no less challenging. I will personally ensure that no underage student hoodwinks the impartial judge." His gaze landed briefly on Fred and George, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

The twins exchanged looks, their expressions clearly indicating they would already started plotting ways to bypass the restriction.

"Furthermore," Dumbledore added, "the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will remain with us for the greater part of the year. I trust you will all extend the utmost courtesy to our foreign guests and support the Hogwarts champion when the time comes. And now—" He glanced at the enchanted ceiling, where the storm outside showed no sign of relenting. "It's late, and I believe you all have lessons to attend in the morning. Off to bed!"

The Hall erupted into motion as benches scraped against the stone floor and students began streaming toward the doors.

"They can't do that!" George exclaimed, still glaring at the staff table as he and Fred lingered behind. "We're seventeen in April! Why can't we have a shot?"

"Doesn't matter," Fred muttered, his eyes narrowing. "They're not stopping me. The champions get to do all sorts of things we would never be allowed to try otherwise. And a thousand Galleons?" He shook his head in disbelief. "That's too good to pass up."

As the students filed out, the chatter grew louder, with most conversations centered on the tournament. Harry walked toward the Slytherin common room, surrounded by his usual group.

"You think Dumbledore's age protection will hold?" Blaise asked, glancing over at Harry.

"Probably," Harry replied. "He'll have protections in place. Nothing you can slip past with a simple spell."

"Doesn't mean people won't try," Daphne added, glancing toward the Gryffindors ahead of them. "The Weasley twins look like they're already planning something."

"They'll fail," Blaise said with a smirk. "Gloriously, if we're lucky."

Astoria, walking a few paces ahead, spun around to face the group, her eyes alight with excitement. "Do you think the champions will duel? Or maybe fight dragons? That'd be amazing!"

"You're not entering, Astoria," Daphne said flatly.

Astoria rolled her eyes. "I'm not an idiot, Daphne. I'm just saying it'd be fun to watch."

"Fun to watch someone get mauled by a dragon?" Tracey asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Obviously," Astoria replied with a grin.

Harry tuned out their banter, his thoughts drifting to the tasks. He didn't need to wonder what the champions would face—he already knew. But the question that lingered in his mind was how Voldemort planned to manipulate the tournament. The Dark Lord's involvement was a certainty, but Harry had no intention of walking into a trap blindly.

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