Chapter 19: Chapter 19: When a Slytherin Bargains

The tense silence that had fallen over the Great Hall was finally broken by Arthur himself.

“Headmaster,” he said, his voice carrying clearly through the hall, “what is the exact name written on the note? Can you please show it to me?”

Dumbledore hesitated for a brief moment before responding. “It says ’A. Hayes.’ Here, you may examine it yourself.”

Arthur rose from his seat and approached the High Table, aware of hundreds of pairs of eyes following his every movement. Taking the charred parchment from Dumbledore, he examined it carefully. The paper was clearly torn from one of his assignments—he recognized his own handwriting and the specific quality of parchment he used. The name “A. Hayes” was written in the upper corner where he usually placed his shortened signature on non-official documents.

Arthur knew from his introduction to the wizarding world that full names were considered important in magic, so he had always been careful to never use his full name in unnecessary places, precisely to avoid situations like this.

“As you can see, Professor,” Arthur said, loud enough for at least the front rows to hear, “it says ’A. Hayes’ and not ’Arthur Hayes.’ The contract, if one exists, would be binding to ’A. Hayes’—not necessarily me. Perhaps you should search for someone else with those initials in Britain.”

Dumbledore’s usually twinkling eyes hardened. “I am not in the mood for games, Mr. Hayes. You are the only student with that surname at Hogwarts, and you must participate.”

“I’m not playing games either, Headmaster,” Arthur replied evenly. “You can see that I did not enter myself. This piece of paper has been torn from an exam or assignment and placed in the cup without my knowledge or consent. Therefore, I am not the one selected by the Goblet.”

The Great Hall remained silent, students and staff alike watching the exchange with complete attention. Ludo Bagman looked increasingly uncomfortable, while Crouch maintained his stern expression.

“Why are you so resistant to being chosen, Mr. Hayes?” Dumbledore asked, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. “Most students here would be thrilled to be the Hogwarts champion.”

“Not me. I prefer my quiet life.”

“Regardless,” Dumbledore said firmly, “you will have to participate.” He turned to the Ministry official. “Isn’t that right, Barty?”

“Yes,” Crouch answered stiffly. “The rules are clear.”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t believe so. I know enough about magical contracts to understand they work on intent, not merely names. If it were that simple, the system would be easy to abuse. Anyone could create an artifact like the Goblet, establish a contract, take signed parchments from their enemies, and enter them without their knowledge. Those people would lose their magic without ever knowing why.”

An uneasy murmur spread through the hall. Several students exchanged worried glances, and even some of the professors looked troubled by Arthur’s reasoning.

“This is not just any artifact, Mr. Hayes,” Dumbledore countered. “This is the Goblet of Fire. Even I don’t fully understand all aspects of its magic.”

“I stand by my interpretation,” Arthur said calmly. “You can continue the tournament without me. We already have three champions, one from each school. Potter can be the Hogwarts champion. It remains a Triwizard Tournament.”

Crouch stepped forward, his thin face tight with strain. “You will be risking your magic, Mr. Hayes.”

“I will be risking nothing,” Arthur replied. “Though the person who entered my name might risk their magic if they fail to participate.”

The effect of these words was immediate. A seventh-year Slytherin near Rowle suddenly jumped to his feet, his face drained of color.

“What?! I’ll risk my magic?” he exclaimed in panic. “Rowle! You didn’t tell me this before you told me to put Hayes’s name in the cup!”

The hall erupted in whispers as the truth became clear, though most of the professors had already guessed what had happened.

“Congratulations, Mr. Bole,” Arthur said dryly. “You’re the Hogwarts champion. Though I’m not entirely certain.”

Snape, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke. “What do you mean, Mr. Hayes?”

“Well, I’m not sure how the cup selects the true champion,” Arthur explained. “Is it the person who physically placed the name? Or is it the person who obtained the parchment, or possibly the one who conceived the idea of entering my name? The magical binding is ambiguous.”

More students began to look alarmed as the implications sank in. Several Slytherins were now exchanging panicked glances, and even some Durmstrang students shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“Or it might indeed be you, Mr. Hayes,” Crouch said, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. “Though you do raise valid points about the unclear nature of the binding. Dumbledore?”

The Headmaster stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I cannot verify precisely whom the contract binds. However, if Mr. Hayes were to accept his selection as champion, all this uncertainty would be resolved.”

“And why would I do that?” Arthur asked, allowing a hint of coldness to enter his voice. “There’s a certain satisfaction in watching my fellow housemates wait anxiously to discover which of them might lose their magic.”

Dumbledore’s expression grew stern. “I’m sure you don’t truly mean that, Mr. Hayes. You must learn to forgive. They are your schoolmates, regardless of past differences.”

“I mean every word,” Arthur replied coolly. “Headmaster, the other champions are waiting. There’s no need to waste time with me. My position won’t change with moral kidnapping like this. I’m sure you already know I don’t care about what people think of me.”

The staff and Ministry officials exchanged troubled glances, clearly at a loss. Even threats of expulsion held no weight—Arthur simply pointed out that as a legal adult in the wizarding world, expulsion would merely speed up his departure from a school he was leaving in a few months anyway.

The situation grew more complicated as it became apparent that students from all three schools had been involved in the plot. Karkaroff and Madame Maxime exchanged concerned whispers, clearly worried about potential magical consequences for their own students from influential families.

Someone suggested canceling the tournament and selecting champions again, but Crouch firmly declared this impossible. Whether this was true or merely Crouch Jr.’s influence through the Imperius Curse, Arthur neither knew nor cared.

After several minutes of hushed consultation among the staff, Dumbledore turned back to Arthur with a resigned expression.

“Mr. Hayes, what would it take for you to participate in the tournament?”

A subtle shift crossed Arthur’s face—the barest hint of satisfaction. “Are you trying to bribe me, Headmaster? If so, you’re finally taking the right approach. I can indeed be bribed.”

Throughout his years at Hogwarts, despite facing constant prejudice, Arthur had managed to build an impressive foundation of magical knowledge. He had devoured every book in the Hogwarts library, purchased every worthwhile text from Flourish and Blotts, and mastered spells that many adult wizards struggled with. Yet he knew this was merely scratching the surface of what magic truly offered.

The real treasures of magical knowledge remained locked away from him—ancient family grimoires passed down through generations, rare enchanted texts hidden in private collections, and the closely guarded secrets of magical masters who only taught their craft to those with the right bloodlines or connections. The magical elite had created an invisible wall around their most powerful knowledge, and despite his many clever attempts, Arthur had never managed to breach it.

He was powerful for his age, yes, but nowhere near what he could become with access to those forbidden teachings. Even the Room of Requirement, which had been his greatest ally at Hogwarts, couldn’t conjure knowledge that existed only in jealously protected tomes and memories. The room’s magic, for all its wonder, couldn’t create what it had never encountered.

“I enjoy learning, Professor,” Arthur continued, his tone business-like. “If you can provide books that satisfy my academic interests, I would reconsider my position regarding this tournament.”

What followed was a remarkable negotiation conducted before the entire school. Students watched in fascination as Arthur Hayes, a Muggle-born Slytherin, negotiated terms with three of the most powerful magical figures in Europe. After considerable back-and-forth, an agreement was reached: Arthur would be granted, on loan for a year, three rare magical books—one from each headmaster. From Dumbledore, he received a comprehensive volume on alchemy; from Madame Maxime, an advanced text on magical enchantment; and from Karkaroff, a rare treatise on Eastern European curse theory.

“I’ll need this agreement in writing,” Arthur stated firmly. “A magically binding contract, to ensure all parties honor their commitments.”

Dumbledore’s eyes had lost their customary twinkle, but he nodded in agreement. With a flick of his wand, he conjured a piece of parchment and a quill, quickly drafting the terms they had discussed.

As the three headmasters and Arthur signed the document, a subtle golden glow enveloped the parchment, signifying the magical binding of their agreement. Only then did Arthur turn toward the champions’ chamber, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Shall we proceed, Headmaster? I believe we’ve kept the other champions waiting long enough.”

Dumbledore gestured toward the door, his expression unreadable. The Ministry officials followed, looking considerably less pleased with the outcome than Arthur. As they walked, whispers erupted throughout the Great Hall, students frantically discussing what they had just witnessed.

For many, it was the first time they had seen authority figures like Dumbledore forced to negotiate rather than simply give orders. It was a valuable lesson in power dynamics that no textbook could have taught them—a demonstration that even in the hierarchical wizarding world, power could shift unexpectedly to those who knew how to use it.

And Arthur Hayes, it seemed, knew exactly how to use it.

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