Grand Tournament

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"Hello, Professor Slughorn."

Ethan greeted the old man with a warm smile and extended his hand in a firm handshake.

"Hello, Professor Ethan! I've admired your name for quite some time!" Slughorn replied, shaking Ethan's hand with unexpected enthusiasm.

Slughorn was a man of indulgence—vain and sociable—who delighted in surrounding himself with the successful, the influential, and the famous.

He thrived on connections, preferring to remain in the background where his world was broader and his influence subtler.

It was no surprise that Ethan fit perfectly into Slughorn's circle of interest.

Ethan was currently the rising star of the Ministry of Magic.

Whispers had already begun circulating among the wizarding community—some speculated he was poised to succeed Rufus Scrimgeour as Head of the Auror Office, perhaps even as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Others believed that in a few years, with the right experience, he might even be a contender for Minister of Magic.

Naturally, Slughorn was eager to be on friendly terms with him.

"I'm delighted you're joining Hogwarts as a Potions professor, Mr. Slughorn," Ethan said, his smile bright.

"I've read Advanced Potions: Explained and Made. It's an excellent book! You truly are a master of the craft."

Snape, seated a short distance away, turned his head at the mention of the book. He sneered in clear distaste but, in an unusually good mood, chose not to comment.

"You've read my book?" Slughorn beamed, clearly flattered.

"Thank you for your kind words! But really, you give me far too much credit."

He waved a dismissive hand but was visibly pleased by the praise.

"On the contrary, Mr. Ethan," he continued with a knowing smile, "you are the true hero—the Ministry's greatest protector!"

Ethan chuckled. It was rather amusing to converse with someone as shrewd and practiced as Slughorn.

The two continued their exchange, each offering generous praise, the conversation flowing easily between academia and mutual admiration.

A polite but firm "Ahem."

Dumbledore's voice, though soft, carried through the hall, cutting through their pleasant chatter.

"Professor Ethan, Professor Slughorn," he said kindly, "the Opening Feast is about to begin. It is time for everyone to take their seats.

Realizing they had lost track of time, Ethan and Slughorn quickly returned to their places at the staff table.

With the professors seated, the Great Hall hushed as Dumbledore stood.

The chatter among students ceased almost instantly.

"Good evening, everyone!" he said warmly, spreading his arms as though to embrace the entire hall.

"Welcome! Welcome back to Hogwarts for another year of magic!"

His voice was filled with enthusiasm.

He paused before continuing, his twinkling eyes scanning the students.

"Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you all that magic is not to be used in the corridors between classes, and that all joke products and prank items are strictly prohibited."

Thus, the annual Hogwarts Opening Feast began.

"As always, I must remind you that the Forbidden Forest remains strictly off-limits to students. Additionally, only those in their third year or above are permitted to visit Hogsmeade Village."

Dumbledore's yearly reminders had become so routine that Ethan barely paid attention. Instead, he idly examined the intricate patterns on the dinner fork in his hand.

The senior students weren't listening either. Having heard the same speech year after year, they stared blankly at their plates, merely waiting for the moment when Dumbledore would clap his hands and summon the long-awaited feast.

But then, Dumbledore said something that jolted everyone out of their daze.

"I regret to inform you that there will be no House Cup Quidditch this year."

For a moment, silence gripped the Great Hall. Then, all at once, voices erupted in shock and protest.

"What?!"

"No Quidditch? Why?"

"That's impossible!"

Quidditch was the year's highlight for many students, and the news left them outraged.

"Quiet."

Dumbledore's voice, though calm, carried effortlessly through the hall. His mere presence commanded instant respect, and the murmuring quickly subsided.

Once the hall was silent, he continued.

"This is due to a major event set to begin in October, which will last throughout the school year and require much of our faculty's time and attention. However, I assure you it will be an exciting and memorable experience."

He paused briefly, a warm smile forming on his lips before delivering the news that would change the course of the year.

"It is with great pleasure that I announce: this year, Hogwarts will have the honor of hosting an extraordinary event that has not been held for over a century. The Triwizard Tournament will take place at Hogwarts!"

Gasps filled the Great Hall.

"No way! That's impossible!" Fred Weasley exclaimed from the Gryffindor table, his voice echoing in disbelief.

Around him, students broke into frantic whispers, some discussing what they had just heard, others confused by the unfamiliar term.

Dumbledore, ever patient, raised a hand.

"I see that some of you may not be familiar with the history of the Triwizard Tournament," he said with a slight chuckle.

"For those who do, I ask for your understanding as I provide a brief explanation. And if your minds should wander, well—I'll allow it just this once."

A ripple of laughter moved through the crowd, though curiosity kept most students listening.

"The Triwizard Tournament was established nearly seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three most prestigious wizarding schools in Europe—Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang."

"Each school selects one champion, and these three wizards compete in a series of magical challenges designed to test their skill, bravery, and intelligence. The tournament was held every five years, with each school taking turns as host, and it was widely regarded as a means of fostering international wizarding relations."

Dumbledore's expression turned solemn.

"However, the tournament was discontinued due to the high number of fatalities."

A murmur spread through the hall. Some students glanced at one another uneasily.

"Over the centuries, various attempts have been made to revive the tournament," Dumbledore continued,

"but none succeeded. However, the Ministry of Magic's Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Department of Magical Games and Sports believe that the time is right to try again. This summer, we have worked tirelessly to ensure the competition will be as safe as possible for its participants."

At the Gryffindor table, Ron muttered under his breath, "'The time is right'? If Harry's visions are true, Voldemort is trying to come back. And they want to hold a tournament?"

He shot a nervous glance at Harry, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hermione, who had been listening intently to Dumbledore, nudged him sharply.

"Shh! Pay attention!"

Dumbledore pressed on.

"In October, the headmasters of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive, accompanied by their carefully chosen candidates."

"On Halloween night, the selection ceremony will take place, and an impartial judge will determine which students are most suited to compete. The champion who wins the Triwizard Cup will bring honor to their school and be rewarded with one thousand Galleons."

Gasps filled the room once more, this time mixed with eager whispers.

The Triwizard Tournament had returned to Hogwarts. And the year ahead would be unlike any other.