[102] Whispers in the Stone

For Barty Crouch, the chaotic scene was beyond his control. Faced with the group of emotionally charged students, he seemed somewhat at a loss. These students didn't care about Ministry regulations or any director. All they knew was that the Ministry had announced some ridiculous rule, barring them from participating in a competition that could bring them glory.

The noise throughout the Great Hall rose and fell.

Finally, a dignified and resonant voice quelled the complaints and protests.

"Silence!"

It was Dumbledore. Instantly, all sound ceased. The Great Hall fell deathly silent.

Barty Crouch silently gave up his place and slowly retreated.

Dumbledore stepped forward, raised his wand, and gently waved it towards the golden chest. The ornate exterior shed its form, revealing what lay within. It was a colossal golden goblet, burning with blue flames.

A flicker of curiosity crossed Hall's eyes. So this was the legendary Goblet of Fire.

"The Goblet of Fire," Dumbledore announced solemnly. His gaze swept over everyone in the audience. "Students who wish to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, please write your names on parchment and throw them into the fire before the banquet begins this Sunday."

Then his expression turned serious. "Please consider this carefully before making your decision. If chosen, there is no turning back. You must persevere to the end. For from that moment on, the Triwizard Tournament has begun."

His gaze lingered on every student, ensuring each understood the gravity of the competition.

The banquet ended, and Hall slowly walked out with the crowd.

"Hey!"

A hand reached out from behind, grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him aside forcefully. Although he couldn't see who it was, everyone around caught a glimpse of familiar red hair. Krum frowned, about to reach out to stop him, but Draco grabbed his arm.

"It's nothing. It's Hall's brother."

"Weasley!" Krum realized, glancing back in the direction Hall had left, before being dragged away by Draco.

In the empty corridor, Hall finally broke free from the two men beside him. "What are you doing?"

George and Fred stood in front of him, wearing mock-serious expressions, staring at him like thugs about to commit a crime.

"You have to help us!"

Fred added, "The first prize is a thousand Galleons!"

George nodded repeatedly in agreement.

"So?" Hall asked, tilting his head.

"Help us!" George gripped Hall's arm tightly.

"Damn the Ministry of Magic! They actually require participants to be under seventeen," Fred complained.

Hall shook his head and sighed. "Even if you could put your names in the Goblet of Fire, why do you think you'd be the ones to represent the school?"

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Our chances are greater than everyone else's," George and Fred said, arms around each other, heads held high.

"Everyone else has a one in ten thousand chance. We have two in ten thousand."

Hall covered his face in exasperation, thinking those two were being too naive.

"You could try an Ageing Potion," Hall suggested.

"Would it fool the defence?" George hesitated.

"Or how about Polyjuice Potion?" Hall suggested again.

"No, Hall, can't you be serious!" Fred realized Hall was just joking and felt annoyed.

Hall rubbed his temples. "Are you really serious?" he asked again.

George and Fred exchanged a glance, then turned to Hall simultaneously, nodding in unison, looking unusually serious.

"Alright, I'll go back and research it. I'll give you the potion tomorrow. But be careful — this is a hastily made potion. I can't guarantee the side effects," Hall cautioned.

"Hall, you're the best!"

"Thank you so much, Hall! Actually, we could do it ourselves, just give us a little time —"

"But you know, we've been getting a lot of custom prank orders lately, hehehe..."

George and Fred grinned excitedly, their faces beaming.

Hall raised an eyebrow. He knew George and Fred were doing very well. After the summer, quite a few people had commissioned them to make prank props.

"Ten Galleons. Thank you," Hall said cruelly.

"No way!" George exclaimed in horror.

Fred chimed in, his smile instantly turning into bitter resignation. "We've been busy all summer, and after deducting materials, we only made twenty-nine Galleons and eight Sickles."

"And that hasn't even included your share," George continued pitifully.

"But if the money from that big order comes through —" Fred flashed an ingratiating smile.

Hall thought for a moment. "Alright, I'll put it on your tab."

Hearing this, George and Fred both breathed a sigh of relief.

After agreeing to their request, Hall finally returned to his dormitory. On the way back, no students lingered; the entire castle was unusually quiet. Hall figured it was because each house had been assigned students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Everyone was probably having their welcoming ceremonies in their respective common rooms.

This year, the dormitories for all four houses were already in high demand. The former Squibs who had regained their magic had arrived as new students, resulting in record-breaking enrollment at Hogwarts. Even Slytherin, which usually had ample room, had almost no single rooms available.

As Hall reached the door of the common room, he suddenly realized: damn. He was in that single room. And Durmstrang students had been assigned there. Could he be that unlucky?

Hall silently prayed. If someone else was staying in his room, his nightly wanderings would easily be discovered. The teachers required him to practise applied spells for three hours every night. To prevent Hall from stunting his growth due to insufficient sleep, Dumbledore had even provided him with a Time-Turner.

An upperclassman pushed open the lounge door, about to leave, when he saw Hall standing hesitantly in the doorway. As he passed by, he kindly reminded Hall.

"Weasley? Why aren't you coming in? Scared of getting on the wrong side of Malfoy?"

Hall recalled the unsettling dark magic Barty Jr. had used. He frowned thoughtfully. "Is it possible the original symbol didn't look like this — that it was modified?" His tone was uncertain.

Gellert nodded silently. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes. "Keep that sharpness."

Hall was delighted. He moved his chair closer to Gellert's, eager to delve deeper into this line of thinking. He was so absorbed in the discussion that he completely forgot there was a third person in the room.

Harry was stunned when he heard Hall call the castle owner "Teacher." He had never imagined Hall had a teacher outside Hogwarts — and from the sound of it, it was with the Headmaster's permission. Even Harry knew that in the wizarding world, a teacher and a school professor were different. They were closer. Like family.

Harry looked around the room, silently speculating about the castle owner's identity. Whoever he was, he was extraordinary — the castle alone proved that, but the presence emanating from the old man was not something an ordinary person could possess.

Meanwhile, Hall and Gellert discussed the symbol at length, time slipping away unnoticed.

---