Witcher at Hogwarts

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Having said this, Dumbledore drew his wand and tapped three times on the lid of the ornate wooden box.

A low creaking filled the hall as the lid slowly swung open.

From within, he carefully lifted a large, rough-hewn goblet.

It was plain in design, but the bluish-white flames licking the rim made it seem almost alive, pulsing as if with a heartbeat.

Dumbledore closed the box and placed the goblet atop it so everyone in the Great Hall could see it.

"Every student wishing to compete for the honor of becoming a Champion must write their name and school on a piece of parchment and drop it into the Goblet of Fire," Dumbledore announced, his voice carrying effortlessly over the eager whispers that had already begun to ripple through the hall.

"Aspirants will have until tomorrow night—Halloween—to submit their names. At that time, the Goblet will select the three students it deems most worthy to represent the three competing schools. Tonight, the Goblet will be placed in the entrance hall, where any eligible student may approach it."

The room buzzed with excitement.

Snape, seated at the staff table, curled his lips in distaste.

He had finally achieved his long-coveted position as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Yet, instead of focusing on their studies, the students were now preoccupied with this ridiculous spectacle.

Dumbledore, however, quickly silenced the growing enthusiasm with his next words.

"To prevent younger students from succumbing to temptation," he continued,

"I will draw an Age Line around the Goblet. No one under seventeen will be able to cross it."

A collective groan of protest erupted from the younger students. Some shouted in indignation.

"Quiet! Quiet!" Dumbledore's voice, though calm, carried a commanding weight.

The hall fell silent at once.

"This condition was decided by many respected wizards," he said firmly.

"It exists to protect you. I must also stress that this tournament is not a game. It is a dangerous test of skill, courage, and resourcefulness.

Once a name is drawn from the Goblet, that student is bound by an unbreakable magical contract. They cannot withdraw. They must see the competition through to the end."

A hush settled over the students. Some, previously eager, now exchanged uneasy glances.

"So, I would like you to carefully consider before submitting your names. Please make sure that you truly wish to participate. And now, it is time for everyone to return to their dormitories. Good night."

Despite Dumbledore's words, discontent still simmered among the students.

Many grumbled as they filed out of the Great Hall, their earlier excitement dampened.

"I'm sure they're already scheming ways to bypass that Age Line," Professor McGonagall muttered as she watched the departing students.

She wasn't wrong.

At that moment, Fred and George Weasley were whispering excitedly, brainstorming ways to trick the enchantment.

"We could brew an Aging Potion," Fred suggested.

"Or maybe a Disguise Charm—make ourselves look older?" George added.

Before long, they had settled on a "brilliant" plan.

They turned to Harry, grinning mischievously.

"Come on, Harry, you're in, right?" Fred asked.

Harry shook his head.

"No thanks."

He had no interest in competing, and besides, he wasn't sure Percy's heart could take another shock from their antics.

As the feast ended, most students went to bed, their minds buzzing about the tournament.

Meanwhile, Ethan lingered near the staff table, watching the Goblet with quiet satisfaction.

Barty Crouch Jr. had already been dealt with—no one would be left to slip Harry's name into the flames.

Still, precautions were never a bad idea.

It may be best to leave that to Dumbledore.

Ethan had already informed Dumbledore of the possibility that Harry was a Horcrux.

Because of this, he couldn't imagine Dumbledore leaving the Goblet of Fire unprotected. There had to be safeguards in place.

The night passed quickly, and soon, morning arrived.

Hogwarts was livelier than ever. Now and then, a loud bang echoed through the corridors as yet another student failed to bypass the Age Line and was sent tumbling backward, often ending up in the hospital wing.

Since Halloween and Hogwarts had a holiday, most students spent their day in the Great Hall, eagerly watching those who stepped forward to throw their names into the Goblet of Fire.

During the day, Ethan decided to visit his horse.

To his surprise, a small crowd had already gathered near the paddock.

Hagrid was lugging a massive oak barrel into the storage shed while more barrels were stacked in the clearing like a miniature mountain.

Ethan knew these barrels contained the special mead that served as fodder for the rune horses.

Near the paddock, he spotted Luna and Hermione, both utterly engrossed in playing with the young Abraxan.

The little creature nuzzled their hands, flicking its tongue playfully over their fingers, making the two girls giggle.

"It looks like it's taken a real liking to you both," Ethan remarked as he approached.

"Professor Ethan!" Hermione and Luna greeted him in unison.

The horse whinnied excitedly at Ethan's arrival, stretching its head over the fence as if trying to reach him.

Ethan stepped closer, running his hand along its neck and muzzle. The young horse snorted contentedly, leaning into his touch.

Hermione and Luna watched with a hint of envy.

"You're so lucky, Professor," Hermione said wistfully.

"I wish I had a pony of my own."

Ethan chuckled but didn't respond. Instead, he shifted his attention to something on Luna's robes—a badge pinned to her chest.

It was the insignia of the SPEW, the organization Hermione had founded.

"Luna, you joined the House-Elf Rights group?" Ethan asked curiously.

"Yes!"

Luna said, absentmindedly twirling the badge between her fingers.

"I care about house-elves too!"

Hermione beamed, delighted to find another supporter for her cause.

Just then, Hagrid lumbered over, hoisting another enormous oak barrel. He was humming, a rare sight.

"Aha! Ethan, you're here!" Hagrid greeted warmly.

"Give me a moment—just gotta finish feedin' the horses, then we can have a good chat!"

"Of course," Ethan replied.

As Hagrid walked away, Hermione leaned closer and lowered her voice.

"Professor Ethan… have you noticed anything odd about Hagrid?" she asked cautiously.

Ethan glanced at Hagrid's retreating figure, studying him carefully.

He looked exactly as he always did—massive, bearded, and full of warmth.

"Not really. He seems the same to me," Ethan admitted.

"I know what it is," Luna chimed in, her dreamy voice carrying a hint of certainty.

Ethan turned to her. "You do?"

Luna nodded. "Hagrid has turned pink."

Ethan blinked. He looked at Hagrid again but saw no change.

"Pink?" he echoed, puzzled.

"I mean, his mood is pink," Luna clarified as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Ethan frowned slightly. Luna's perception of the world was unique, to say the least.

But over time, Ethan had learned not to dismiss her words as mere eccentricity.

She saw things others couldn't.

Ethan couldn't help but wonder—what exactly had changed in Hagrid?