He turned right, walked along the staff table, and entered the adjacent room through the door.
"Wonderful, Victor!" Kakaroff bellowed, his voice booming above the loud applause in the hall, "I knew you were destined to be a warrior!"
Harry quietly remarked to himself, if I didn't know the selection was prearranged, I'd have been fooled by your excellent acting.
As Victor left the hall, the applause and chatter gradually subsided.
Everyone's attention turned to the high goblet again, and after a few seconds, the flames turned red once more.
The second piece of parchment shot out from the goblet under the force of the fire.
"The champion of Beauxbatons," Dumbledore announced, "is Fleur Delacour!"
The girl who resembled an enchantress stood up gracefully, flicked her silvery hair, and walked lightly between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.
"Oh, look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said amidst the din, nodding towards the other Beauxbatons representatives.
To be fair, "disappointed" was putting it lightly.
Two unchosen girls were in tears, burying their heads in their arms, crying sadly.
When Fleur Delacour also entered the adjacent room, the hall fell silent again, this time brimming with an excitement so strong it was almost palpable.
Now it was Hogwarts' turn to have its warrior selected...
At this moment, the Flame Cup turned red once more, sparks flew, and the flame spiked high into the air as Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment from the tip of the flame.
"The champion of Hogwarts," he said loudly, "is Harry Potter!"
The hall was plunged into silence, followed by an even more enthusiastic cheer than the previous two times.
Dumbledore and the three house heads smiled and applauded Harry, while Snape was somewhat grudging, clapping with a sour expression.
Kakaroff was the same. He had heard of Harry's fame, although unsure of his magical ability, he was skeptical that someone who survived Voldemort at his peak could be trivial...
As for Mrs. Maxim, she clapped for Harry genuinely.
Harry stood up, and the cheers in the hall became even more fervent.
"Mate! Well done!" Ron shouted loudly, clapping.
"Woohoo!" Colin stood on a bench, constantly taking pictures of Harry with his camera, resembling a war correspondent.
"Potter is our king!" the Weasley Twins egged on, even pulling out several Feiliba Fireworks, which erupted into showers of sparks across the hall.
Professor McGonagall's smile froze on her face, looking towards these two troublemakers with disapproval.
As the headmaster, Dumbledore not only didn't intend to punish these two jokers but seemed quite happy. When he caught the twins' gaze, the old man even discreetly gave them a thumbs up as encouragement.
As a master of grand occasions, Harry was not shy, and instead indicated to his cheering peers around him, displaying full composure.
He glanced at Cassandra, finding she was also looking at him with a slightly doting yet helpless expression.
When their eyes met, Cassandra suddenly displayed a look of disdain.
Tsundere.
Harry defined it in his heart, planning to punish this stubborn tsundere severely.
After accepting his classmates' cheers, Harry left the hall, heading in the direction the other two champions had gone.
As he passed the staff seats, Hagrid stood up and patted Harry on the shoulder.
"Well done, Harry!" he said with a hearty smile.
He arrived at a small room, filled with the portraits of wizards, facing the well-lit fireplace at the entrance.
Victor Krum from Durmstrang and Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons sat around the fire.
There was no conversation between the two; Victor leaned against the wall, seemingly pondering something like the famous "Thinker" sculpture.
Noticing Harry's footsteps, Fleur turned her head, her waterfall-like silvery hair swaying.
Seeing a slightly shorter kid, Fleur raised an eyebrow.
"What's going on?" she asked, "Are we supposed to go back?"
Evidently, Fleur mistook Harry for a messenger student.
"No, Dumbledore asked me to wait here." Harry sat between Fleur and Victor, and said to them, "I'm the Hogwarts champion."
Upon hearing this, Victor suddenly looked up, his eyes glinting with surprise.
But his expression soon returned to somberness.
Fleur subtly furrowed her brow, puzzled over why Hogwarts would send such a...
She gave Harry a once-over.
...a small, seemingly under-fifteen-year-old child to his doom.
"Are you kidding?" Fleur asked.
Harry shrugged, saying nothing.
Just then, Mr. Bagman arrived in the cabin.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Bagman looked at Harry with excitement, "despite how incredible it seems, representing Hogwarts is this Harry Potter, a fourth-year student—he just turned fourteen this year."
Upon hearing this name, Victor's expression grew even darker.
Oh...
This name, he had heard of it. Very famous, very flamboyant...
At such a young age, he defeated the Black Demon...
But Victor was not impressed, just a guy known for his mother's sacrifice; his real abilities... Victor doubted someone like Harry could kill the Dark Demon King.
No, let alone kill him, Victor even doubted he could last two moves under the Dark Demon King's hands.
Victor naturally assumed straight away that the Flame Cup must have malfunctioned to choose Harry as a champion.
But he wasn't happy about it because defeating a kid to win the Triwizard Tournament would be too lacking in elegance, and it wouldn't sound good spreading the story around, even if this kid was the Boy Who Lived.
"Isn't there a mistake?" Victor asked with a frown, "He's just a fourth-year student, maybe he can't even properly cast Expelliarmus. Letting him join the Triwizard Tournament, what's the difference from sending him to die?"
It's a good thing Moody didn't hear this, or he'd surely jump up and give him a taste of Crucio.
This is what you call 'can't even properly cast Expelliarmus'?
He cast it too well! Even Slaughter Curse can be used skillfully...
"I think so too, Mr. Bagman." Fleur asked in English with a heavy nasal tone, "Can such a little boy be a champion?"
Little boy?
Harry wasn't angry.
Anger often stems from powerlessness against a situation.
But Harry only felt like laughing.
After all, saying a few words wouldn't lose him a piece of flesh.
"But it's not something we can decide, you two," Mr. Bagman maintained a polite smile, "Once the Flame Cup has determined a champion, it can't be changed unless that person decides to withdraw and choose a new champion—so you, Mr. Potter, what do you think?"
"I think it's worth a try," Harry replied, smiling humbly.
Just then, the headmasters of the three schools entered together.
Mrs. Maxim led the way, followed by Dumbledore and Kakaroff, and lastly Batty Crouch came in.
Kakaroff's expression was not pleasant, and when he looked at Harry, it was hard to guess what he was thinking.
Mr. Crouch's expression was even worse, staring intently at Harry as if inspecting a criminal suspect like an Auror.
"All right, I need to congratulate you all on becoming champions and representing your respective schools in the Triwizard Tournament."
Dumbledore got straight to the point, as the president of the International Wizarding Union, he had a right to speak first.
His gaze swept over the three champions, smiling, "Please trust the judgment of the Flame Cup, it never shoots wildly and selects an unqualified champion—every champion it chooses, you can be assured they possess some aspect of excellence."
Saying this, Dumbledore added, "So, what you three need to do now is to prepare for the first task of the upcoming competition next month, though your first challenge won't be the task itself, but rather the media interview that comes tomorrow."
"Media interview?" Fleur sharply caught Dumbledore's words and asked in her heavily nasal-inflected English, "We have to attend a media interview? Why?"
(6000 words delivered, holidays are over... time to head back to intense moxibustion sessions.)