The Great Hall Side Chamber
The feast had ended. The side chamber was set up much like the trophy room—flickering candlelight danced across gold and silver objects, giving the room a warm, metallic gleam. Harry had been here a few times before; professors occasionally used it for emergency meetings. It used to house a round table and was much more convenient than trekking up to the Headmaster's office or the staff room.
An hour ago, Harry had been stressing over his entry parchment. Now, in the blink of an eye, he was actually a Hogwarts champion. It still felt completely surreal.
With no table or chairs in sight, Harry hung back in a corner against the wall, trying to blend in while quietly sizing up the competition.
Fleur is gorgeous, he thought, marveling internally.
The nineteen other champions filled the room, standing in distinct groups clearly divided by school and house lines.
There were no formal introductions. Harry didn't even recognize the seventh-year Slytherin champion. When Peregrine Derrick's name was called, it had drawn a blank. It was only now, seeing him up close, that Harry remembered passing him a few times in the corridors.
Hermione and Cedric went without saying. Cedric was Cho Chang's boyfriend, and Roger Davies was a Ravenclaw Quidditch player, though he rarely stood out in a crowd.
"Harry Potter?"
Students from the visiting schools who recognized his lightning scar whispered in surprise. Even though they'd watched him drop his name into the Goblet earlier, seeing him actually survive the selection process was a shock.
Harry didn't let the staring bother him, offering a polite nod and smile to the other champions to break the ice.
The tension in the room eased up slightly, and some of the visiting students started chatting. Hogwarts and Ilvermorny shared the same language, making mingling easy. Harry kept an ear on Pickett and Nancy's conversation while continuing to scan the room.
The dynamic was definitely strange. All three visiting schools had traveled all the way to Scotland, but the language barriers were real. Krum could only force out a few English words at a time—barely enough for basic greetings. The rest of the Durmstrang crew stuck strictly to themselves.
Fleur's English, however, was smooth; she had clearly practiced. Her long, silvery-blonde hair cascaded down her back as she spoke softly to Roger. A single smile from her left the Ravenclaw looking completely hypnotized.
Harry stared for a few seconds too long before Hermione violently jabbed him with her elbow.
"She really is pretty," Harry muttered defensively. He wasn't entirely obsessed—he still liked Cho Chang, even if that crush was dead on arrival.
The Rules of Engagement
"Is everyone here?"
The chamber door swung open, and Professor Melvin Levent walked in. Knowing the language barrier would make a long speech pointless, he got straight to business, handing out four stacks of thin booklets as he moved through the room.
The champions passed them around, and the room filled with the sound of flipping pages.
"The basic rules and procedures for the tournament are in there. Look them over," Melvin said with a warm, approachable smile.
Harry caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. The other schools had fully translated versions. They'd clearly prepped this in advance.
Led by Dumbledore, the other headmasters and professors filed into the room. They kept quiet, letting the twenty champions review the materials. The only sounds were the rustle of paper and nervous breathing.
The theme of the First Task is courage. Champions must stay calm under pressure, tackle the problem ahead thoughtfully, and complete the objective. The specific contents of the task remain classified. Facing the unknown is part of courage.
The task will take place on November 24th, before the students, staff, and judging panel of all four schools.
During the official task, champions may not request or accept help from their teachers. Only wands are permitted as weapons. No alchemical tools, potions, herbs, or magical creatures may be brought in for assistance.
This is an individual competition, resulting in a single final champion. However, competitors may team up midway through a task. The judging panel will score on a 100-point scale. Each champion's score will be calculated individually.
"The organizing committee will do everything in its power to protect your lives during the tournament," Melvin announced, breaking the silence alongside the other headmasters. "But we cannot prevent every accident. If necessary, you are allowed to forfeit. Glory matters, but you only have one life."
Melvin looked around the room. "Any questions?"
The champions exchanged glances and shook their heads. They had plenty of questions, but no idea where to start. They figured they'd just corner their own headmasters later.
The orientation hadn't actually given away much. The booklets were packed with rule interpretations, but offered zero hints about the actual tasks. The staff was keeping tight-lipped. The champions filed out of the room looking more confused than when they entered.
Madame Maxime threw an arm around Fleur's shoulders, while Christine Rosier guided the rest of the Beauxbatons champions out, chattering in rapid-fire French.
Karkaroff led Krum and the Durmstrang contingent away in total silence.
"We'll be heading back to rest as well," Headmaster Fontaine said, patting Pickett on the shoulder before leading the Ilvermorny students out.
A Hero's Welcome
Curfew was approaching. Harry walked back toward Gryffindor Tower, flipping through the thin booklet one more time.
He turned to Hermione. "Did you notice anything weird about this? The rules contradict themselves. It says it's an individual competition, but then it explicitly allows us to team up. What's the point of that?"
"It means multiple champions will be dropped into the same area—or adjacent areas—to start the task at the exact same time," Hermione said, her face tense. "It means the task is going to be incredibly difficult. We might face dangers we physically can't handle alone."
She paused, her tone heavy. "Professor Levent specifically emphasized that while they'll try to keep us safe, they can't prevent accidents."
"Allowed to team up..." Harry's mind immediately flashed to a couple of faces. "Could we team up with kids from other schools?"
Hermione shook her head. "It'll probably be restricted to our own school. We might be able to work with the Ilvermorny champions, but with the language barrier for Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, the odds of a successful team-up are pretty much zero."
"Password!"
At the portrait hole, the Fat Lady was currently squished into the same frame as a wrinkled old witch. The moment she spotted them, she started rapid-firing gossip.
"Violet already told me! You two were chosen! Ha! Gryffindor has two champions! That hasn't happened in 700 years!"
"In the past, they only allowed one champion per school," Violet chimed in. "And the last tournament was two centuries ago."
"Yes, Violet, I'm well aware. My memory isn't that bad..."
Harry barely registered their bickering.
The second the portrait swung open, a tidal wave of noise crashed over them. A champagne cork popped like a gunshot, nearly sending Harry and Hermione stumbling backward.
Hermione instantly ducked out of the way.
Harry wasn't nearly as lucky. Dozens of hands grabbed him, dragged him into the common room, and hoisted him into the air.
The entire tower was screaming and cheering.