Chapter Eight: The Champions Are Chosen

Harry Potter sat in the Great Hall, surrounded by the familiar hum of conversation, yet he felt somewhat detached. He had entered his fourth year at Hogwarts with one simple hope—a quiet, uneventful school year.

After the chaos of the previous year—discovering that Sirius Black, the man he thought was a murderer, was actually his godfather; narrowly avoiding death at the hands of Dementors; and learning the horrifying truth about Peter Pettigrew—he had no desire for more surprises.

Now, the school was abuzz with excitement about the Triwizard Tournament. It was all anyone could talk about. Ron was beside himself with enthusiasm, going on and on about the legendary champions of the past. Hermione, on the other hand, was deeply concerned about the risks involved.

"It's incredibly dangerous, you know," Hermione had said the night before. "They wouldn't have stopped holding the tournament if people weren't getting seriously hurt—or worse."

"Yeah, but that's what makes it exciting!" Ron had countered, his eyes gleaming. "Imagine the magic we'll get to see! You-Know-Who couldn't enter, could he?"

Harry had just laughed, shaking his head. He had no intention of entering. He'd had his fill of life-threatening situations.

But even as he assured himself that this year would be peaceful, a nagging feeling told him that Hogwarts had a way of making sure things were never that simple.

The Great Hall doors suddenly slammed open with a resounding boom. The chatter died down immediately, and every head turned toward the entrance. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the flickering candlelight, was Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.

He was hard to miss—a grizzled, battle-scarred wizard with a wooden leg that clunked against the stone floor as he walked. His electric-blue magical eye swiveled independently from his normal one, scanning the hall in all directions. Even the professors seemed momentarily taken aback by his abrupt entrance.

Whispers broke out among the students as Moody limped toward the staff table, his heavily scarred face set in a grim expression.

"Blimey," Ron muttered. "He looks like he's seen some things."

"That's Mad-Eye Moody," Hermione whispered back, her eyes wide. "He used to be one of the most famous Aurors of all time. Fought loads of Dark Wizards. But they say he's gone a bit… well… paranoid."

Moody reached the staff table and exchanged a nod with Dumbledore, who gestured toward an empty chair. With a grunt, Moody lowered himself into the seat, his normal eye fixed on his plate while his magical eye swiveled back to scan the students.

"I don't think he trusts anyone," Harry murmured.

"That's probably wise," Hermione said. "Considering what he's been through."

Once Moody had settled, Dumbledore rose to his feet, his twinkling eyes surveying the students. The Great Hall fell silent in anticipation.

"Before we begin the feast, I have a few announcements to make," he said, his voice carrying across the hall.

"First, I would like to welcome Professor Alastor Moody as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. I trust you will all give him the respect he deserves."

There was a scattered round of polite applause, though many students were still eyeing Moody warily.

"Now, onto a rather significant announcement," Dumbledore continued, his expression growing serious. "This year, Hogwarts will not be holding its annual Quidditch Cup."

A chorus of protests erupted from the students, particularly from the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. Harry felt a pang of disappointment—Quidditch had always been the highlight of his school year.

"What? No Quidditch?!" Fred groaned. "That's bloody unfair!"

Ron was about to say something but Hermione cut him off.

"Quiet, Ron!" Hermione hissed, though she too looked somewhat surprised.

Dumbledore raised a hand for silence, and the murmuring died down.

"In its place, Hogwarts will be participating in an event far grander—The Triwizard Tournament."

Gasps rippled through the hall. Even those who had been too young to fully understand the tournament before knew its reputation.

Dumbledore went on to explain the details of the tournament—how only three schools would compete, how one champion would be chosen per school, and most importantly, how dangerous the competition was.

"The champions will be selected by an impartial judge—The Goblet of Fire."

"To ensure the safety of our younger students, only those of age—seventeen and older—will be allowed to enter."

A murmur of disappointment spread among the younger students, but Fred and George Weasley were already whispering among themselves, clearly planning a way around it.

"I urge you all to remember," Dumbledore continued, his voice carrying more weight than before, "this tournament is not for the faint of heart. Champions will face trials that test their courage, intelligence, and magical ability. Only those truly prepared should put forth their names."

The excitement in the room was palpable. Even Harry, despite wanting a peaceful year, couldn't help but be intrigued. The Triwizard Tournament was legendary.

As the feast began, Harry exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione.

"This is going to be a big year," Ron said, stuffing a roll into his mouth.

"Let's just hope it's not too big," Harry muttered, already feeling that fate had other plans.

Authors Comment : This is Harry's thoughts from the start of the year till the Champion selection -general guideline.

The day of the champion selection had finally arrived, and Hogwarts was practically buzzing with anticipation. The Goblet of Fire, now placed in the center of the Great Hall on a raised platform, seemed to glow with an eerie blue light, casting flickering shadows across the enchanted ceiling. The excitement in the air was palpable, and everywhere Charlie looked, students were whispering about who would be chosen.

During breakfast that morning, the Great Hall had been a hive of speculation.

Cedric Diggory was the clear favorite for Hogwarts. Talented, charismatic, and well-liked, he embodied everything that made a great champion. Even students from other houses admitted he was the most deserving.

Duncan Rosier (Slytherin) and Amelia Wright (Ravenclaw) were also strong contenders. Duncan was the captain of the Dueling Club, known for his aggressive but skilled spellwork, while Amelia had a reputation for strategic thinking and precision magic.

Charlie's name was mentioned now and then, but only in passing. He had impressed a few students with his dedication to training, but many still saw him as an underdog.

Even outside the hall, students were placing bets—some openly, others in hushed voices. The Weasley twins had already started collecting wagers, grinning as they noted down names and odds in a mysteriously enchanted notebook.

"I'm telling you, it'll be Cedric," said Seamus Finnigan, tossing a few Sickles onto the table. "It won't be a Slytherin, that's for sure," Dean Thomas added. "The Goblet wouldn't pick one of them." "It doesn't choose based on houses," Hermione cut in, rolling her eyes. "It's meant to find the most suitable champion, regardless of where they're from."

Across the room, Charlie noticed Hogwarts professors observing the students carefully.

McGonagall's eyes scanned the room with quiet intensity, her lips pressed into a firm line.

Flitwick was deep in conversation with Sprout, nodding occasionally as if considering possible candidates.

Snape, as usual, looked completely unimpressed, his expression a mixture of boredom and disdain.

Despite the air of excitement, Harry Potter barely reacted. He had no interest in entering and was only mildly curious about who would represent Hogwarts. If anything, he was relieved he wasn't eligible.

Ron, on the other hand, was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Just imagine! The fame, the glory! The winner gets eternal honor and a huge pile of gold! I'd enter in a heartbeat if I were seventeen."

"It's not about gold, Ron," Hermione said, frowning. "It's incredibly dangerous. Champions could—"

"Yeah, yeah, 'get themselves killed,'" Ron cut in, waving his hand dismissively. "But come on! If you win, people talk about you for years!"

"Or they talk about how you died in the first task," Harry muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

That morning, Dumbledore had given one last reminder that the Goblet would only accept champions of age. Fred and George, however, had been seen whispering furiously at the Gryffindor table, clearly still scheming about how to bypass the Age Line.

Two nights ago, long after curfew, Charlie stood before the Goblet of Fire, his fingers wrapped tightly around a small piece of parchment. He had spent the entire day debating whether he should enter his name. His mind had been clouded with doubt, but beneath it all, there was a relentless drive pushing him forward.

I'm not the strongest. I'm not the fastest. But I've worked harder than anyone else.

He had turned seventeen at the start of the year, making him one of the youngest possible contenders. Most of the older students dismissed him—he was still a 6th year, while others in the running were already in their final year at Hogwarts. But Charlie knew he had something to prove.

They don't think I can do it. They think I don't have the experience. But I do. And I'm going to show them.

He had spent months preparing. Training in secret, studying dueling techniques, pushing his spellwork beyond what even his professors had expected of him. And yet, there was still a lingering hesitation.

His fingers tightened around the parchment.

He had been researching the Goblet for weeks. Everything about its selection process fascinated him. It didn't just choose the most powerful—it chose those who would make the tournament worth remembering.

This tournament isn't just about strength—it's about growth. It's about proving to the world, to myself, that I belong among the best.

A deep breath. Then, with deliberate movement, he stepped forward and placed his name into the flames. The parchment vanished in an instant, consumed by the Goblet's enchanted fire.

For a moment, he felt nothing. Then, a surge of something unseen rushed through his body, as if the Goblet had acknowledged his decision, marking him as a contender.

Charlie exhaled. There was no turning back now.

Now, standing in the crowded Great Hall, Charlie watched the Goblet carefully. The blue flames flickered with an almost hypnotic rhythm, waiting for the moment it would reveal the champions.

A single line from his research on the Goblet kept replaying in his head:

"The Goblet seeks to craft a tournament worth remembering. Its choices are not always logical, but they are always deliberate."

Charlie couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was going to change everything.

The day of the champion selection had finally arrived, and Hogwarts was practically buzzing with anticipation. The Goblet of Fire, now placed in the center of the Great Hall on a raised platform, seemed to glow with an eerie blue light, casting flickering shadows across the enchanted ceiling. The excitement in the air was palpable, and everywhere Charlie looked, students were whispering about who would be chosen.

The atmosphere in the Great Hall that evening was electric. The Goblet of Fire had been placed at the center of the hall, its enchanted flames flickering blue. It would soon make its selections, choosing a single champion from each school.

Students gathered around, whispering about who would be chosen.

Cedric Diggory was the clear favorite for Hogwarts. Talented, charismatic, and well-liked, he had all the makings of a champion.

Duncan Rosier (Slytherin) and Amelia Wright (Ravenclaw) were also strong contenders.

Charlie Alden's name was mentioned here and there, but no one expected him to be picked over Cedric.

Across the room, professors watched carefully. McGonagall looked composed, but her eyes flickered over a few students, as though already anticipating the result. Flitwick, too, seemed thoughtful.

[New System Quest: The Chosen]

Task: Be prepared for the unexpected results of the Goblet's selection.

Reward: +3 Reputation, Unlock Passive: Champion's Pressure (Basic).

Charlie sat quietly, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He had thought about entering, but after what he had read about the Goblet, he had hesitated.

And yet, the feeling in his gut told him that something was about to change.

As students excitedly filled the Great Hall, waiting for the Goblet of Fire to make its selections, Charlie found himself feeling a strange mix of anticipation and unease. While he had made his decision to enter, he wasn't sure if he was ready for what was to come.

Before the ceremony could begin, Charlie was on his way back to the Great Hall when he unexpectedly ran into Dumbledore near the entrance hall. The headmaster stood there, his piercing blue eyes twinkling as though he had been expecting him.

"Ah, Mr. Alden," Dumbledore greeted, his voice as warm as ever. "Enjoying the suspense?"

Charlie hesitated before nodding. "I guess. Just trying to figure out what to make of it."

Dumbledore chuckled, motioning for Charlie to walk beside him. "It is a rare opportunity, to be in the running for such a prestigious event. The Triwizard Tournament is not simply about winning—it is a test of one's resolve, a measure of character."

Charlie frowned slightly. "Professor, does the Goblet really choose the strongest wizard? Or is there something more to it?"

Dumbledore paused for a moment, as if considering his response. "The strongest wizard? No, not always. The Goblet is far older than Hogwarts itself. It does not merely seek raw power—it seeks something else entirely. It looks for those who will shape the events of the tournament, for those who have the potential to grow in ways even they might not yet understand."

Charlie let that sink in. "So it chooses someone who will make the tournament... memorable?"

A knowing smile crossed Dumbledore's lips. "Indeed. The tournament is as much about the journey as it is about the outcome. Winning is not always the greatest achievement, Charlie. Sometimes, it is the lessons learned along the way that matter most."

Charlie thought back to the countless hours he had spent training in secret, pushing himself further than ever before. The idea that the Goblet might not simply choose the best, but rather the most fitting, made a strange kind of sense.

"You entered your name," Dumbledore said after a pause, his tone neither questioning nor accusatory. "I trust you did so knowing the risks?"

Charlie straightened. "Yes, sir. I know it won't be easy, but I want to prove that I belong. That I can stand alongside the best."

Dumbledore studied him for a long moment before nodding approvingly. "Then you are already further ahead than many who enter such trials. Self-awareness is a powerful tool, Mr. Alden. But so too is humility. Do not let ambition blind you to the challenges ahead."

Charlie met his gaze, feeling a quiet resolve settle over him. He still had questions—about the Goblet, about what lay ahead—but he knew now that there was no turning back.

As they re-entered the Great Hall, the enchanted flames of the Goblet burned higher, flickering wildly as if sensing that the moment of decision was drawing near. Charlie took his seat, the words of the headmaster lingering in his mind.

Whatever happens, I'll make sure I'm ready.

The Great Hall was packed with students, the air thick with anticipation. The enchanted flames of the Goblet of Fireburned an eerie blue, casting flickering shadows across the enchanted ceiling. Tonight, three champions would be chosen, each to represent their respective school.

Dumbledore stood before the Goblet, his expression calm yet expectant. The entire hall fell into silence as he raised his hand.

"Once your name has been read, you will come forward and join the other champions at the front. The tournament is dangerous, but those who are chosen must face it with courage."

The flames in the Goblet roared higher, turning deep red before suddenly spitting out a piece of parchment. It fluttered downward, and Dumbledore caught it in his fingers, clearing his throat before reading aloud.

"The champion for Durmstrang… Viktor Krum!"

A thunderous cheer erupted from the Durmstrang students as Viktor Krum, the world-famous Seeker, rose from his seat and strode confidently to the front. His expression was impassive, though there was a flicker of pride in his eyes as he took his place.

The Goblet flared again.

"The champion for Beauxbatons… Fleur Delacour!"

The Beauxbatons students clapped gracefully, their movements refined and elegant. Fleur, her silvery-blonde hair shimmering under the candlelight, stood and walked with poise toward Krum. She glanced briefly at him before turning to face the crowd.

Now, all eyes were on the Goblet as it prepared to choose the Hogwarts champion.

The flames turned a brilliant gold, and another piece of parchment shot out. Dumbledore caught it and paused for a fraction of a second before announcing:

"The champion for Hogwarts… Charlie Alden!"

A wave of cheers and whispers spread through the hall.

At the Hufflepuff table, some students looked stunned, others exchanged uncertain glances. Cedric Diggory had been the favorite—but now, Charlie had been chosen instead. Charlie himself froze for just a moment, heart pounding before he forced himself to stand, head held high, confidence masking his shock.

He could feel eyes following him as he walked toward the front, past the long tables, stepping up beside Fleur and Krum. His mind raced, but he kept his face unreadable.

This is it. This is what I wanted.

He could feel the weight of the decision settling onto his shoulders. This wasn't just about proving himself anymore—this was real.

Dumbledore was just about to dismiss the Goblet when suddenly—it flared back to life.

The blue flames twisted violently, higher than before. A collective gasp rippled through the hall as the fire spat out a fourth parchment.

Dumbledore caught it. His brows furrowed, his sharp blue eyes flickering with something unreadable before he slowly read the name aloud:

"Harry Potter."

A stunned silence fell over the hall.

Harry felt his stomach drop. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he was sure he had misheard. But as the whispers started—confusion, shock, disbelief—he realized that it was real.

Ron turned to him, eyes wide. "Harry? What—how? You didn't put your name in, did you?"

No. No, I didn't.

But before he could respond, all eyes turned to him.

Dumbledore stepped forward, his voice unusually firm. "Harry Potter… come forward."

[System Notification: A True Outlier]

The Goblet of Fire has made an unexpected choice. A hidden path has been unlocked.

With the weight of a thousand questions pressing down on him, **Harry rose from his seat and slowly walked toward the front.**T

Harry stood frozen in place, feeling the weight of the entire Great Hall's gaze pressing down on him. He could barely hear the whispers, the murmurs of disbelief. His heart pounded in his chest, and his hands clenched into fists.

This has to be a mistake.

Dumbledore took a slow step forward, his piercing blue eyes studying Harry intently. His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable firmness.

"Harry Potter… did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?"

Harry shook his head almost immediately, his voice coming out hoarse. "No, sir. I—I didn't."

"Did you ask an older student to do it for you?" Dumbledore asked, his expression unreadable.

"No!" Harry said more firmly this time. "I swear, I never put my name in!"

Dumbledore studied him for another moment before giving a nod. His gaze flickered toward the rest of the staff, but his expression remained neutral. "Very well."

Professor McGonagall's lips were pressed into a thin line, concern flashing in her eyes. Snape, standing with his arms crossed, looked utterly unimpressed, his sneer practically radiating disbelief. Professor Moody, on the other hand, seemed more curious than anything else, his magical eye zooming in on Harry as if searching for something hidden.

Before the murmurs could grow louder, Dumbledore clapped his hands once. "The champions will follow me. The rest of you—back to your dormitories."

As Harry followed behind Charlie, Fleur, and Krum, he could hear the whispers all around him. Students were already speculating, arguing, and trying to understand how two Hogwarts champions had been chosen. He caught sight of Ron's face for just a moment—conflicted, somewhere between disbelief and resentment.

Whatever was happening, Harry had the sinking feeling that it was only the beginning.

The four champions were led into a private chamber behind the Great Hall, where the Triwizard Tournament officials and Hogwarts professors awaited them. The tension in the room was immediate.

Madame Maxime, headmistress of Beauxbatons, folded her arms, her towering figure imposing even in the dimly lit chamber. "Zis is impossible!" she exclaimed. "Ze Goblet cannot make such mistakes. Four champions? Zis is against all rules!"

"I quite agree," Karkaroff snapped, his sharp gaze flicking toward Harry. "How convenient that Hogwarts gets two champions! I smell foul play."

Fleur crossed her arms, her icy blue eyes flashing with irritation. "'E is too little! 'E is just a leetle boy!"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say anything, Charlie stepped forward.

"Oh, come on," Charlie said, his voice cutting through the tension. "Considering Mr. Potter's actions in his few years at Hogwarts, he would never do this. He has all the glory and riches he needs as it is."

Karkaroff scoffed. "And yet, here we are."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Why are the rest of you so worried? He's younger than you. So he shouldn't be your competition anyway. Just treat it as a Goblet malfunction." His lips curled into a smirk. "Either way, I'm going to win."

The room went silent.

McGonagall's lips twitched upward ever so slightly as if suppressing amusement. Dumbledore studied Charlie carefully, a faint glimmer of approval in his eyes.

[Favorability Change: Dumbledore +5 (Growing Interest)] [Favorability Change: McGonagall +5 (Quiet Approval)]

Snape, however, simply narrowed his eyes, his expression unchanged.

[Favorability Change: Snape 0 (No Change)]

Moody, standing in the corner, let out a small grunt, his magical eye twitching slightly as it focused on Charlie.

[Favorability Change: Moody -5 (Mild Disapproval)]

"Confidence is good, lad," Moody said, his voice gravelly, "but overconfidence? That's how people get themselves killed."

Charlie turned slightly to look at Moody, his smirk unwavering. "Good thing I don't plan on dying, then."

Madame Maxime still looked dissatisfied, but Bagman clapped his hands together, forcing a laugh. "Alright, alright! No need for all this tension! What's done is done. The Goblet has spoken, and there is no turning back. We have our four champions!"

Karkaroff made a disgusted noise, shaking his head, but did not argue further.

Fleur gave Charlie a long, measuring look before flipping her hair over her shoulder, clearly unimpressed. Krum remained impassive, his eyes trained on Dumbledore as though waiting for further instructions.

Dumbledore finally turned toward Harry. "Whether we understand how or why it happened, the Goblet has made its choice. You are now bound by a magical contract. The tournament will proceed as planned—with four champions."

Harry felt a deep unease settle over him. He never wanted this. But as he met Dumbledore's steady gaze, he realized there was no escaping it now.

The Triwizard Tournament had begun, and Harry Potter was now at its center.