Chapter 20: Chapter 20: The Four Champions

Arthur walked toward the small chamber off the Great Hall, keeping a careful distance between himself and the clearly unhappy headmaster. The magical contract he’d negotiated was tucked safely in his pocket, the parchment still faintly warm from the binding magic that had sealed their agreement. As annoyed as the professors might be, they would have to honor their commitment—three rare magical books in exchange for his participation in a tournament he had no interest in winning.

The chamber itself was smaller than he’d expected, with a crackling fire and several comfortable armchairs where the other champions waited. Viktor Krum stood with his back to the wall, his heavy eyebrows drawn together in what seemed to be his permanent scowl. The Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delacour, had positioned herself near the fireplace, her silvery hair reflecting the dancing flames. Both kept a respectful distance from Harry Potter, who sat hunched in a corner chair looking completely miserable.

The two other champions, Krum and Delacour, had assumed Harry to be the Hogwarts champion, his youth and obvious distress making them think he was simply overwhelmed by the unexpected selection. They had wisely chosen to leave him alone, respecting his need for space and quiet.

Fleur glanced up as Arthur entered, a flicker of surprise crossing her delicate features. “They are calling us back?” she asked, her voice carrying a French accent. “The selection is complete, non?”

Before Arthur could reply, Ludo Bagman bustled into the room, his face flushed with excitement, his round figure barely contained within his brightly colored robes. “Extraordinary!” he exclaimed, beaming at the assembled group. “Absolutely extraordinary! We have four champions competing in the tournament!”

Fleur Delacour tossed her hair, a dismissive smile playing across her perfect features. “Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman.”

“Joke?” Bagman repeated, bewildered. “No, no, not at all! Mr. Hayes is the Hogwarts champion and Harry’s name came out of the Goblet of Fire as the fourth champion!”

Krum stepped forward, his voice a low rumble. “Hogwarts has two champions? This is not fair.”

Bagman, unaware of their discontent, continued to babble about how unprecedented the situation was, the excitement it would generate, and the added challenge it presented. Arthur, however, remained silent, watching the unfolding chaos with detached amusement. He was, after all, the only one in the room who was genuinely pleased with the evening’s outcome.

As Fleur and Krum were arguing with Bagman, the door behind them opened again, and a large group entered: Professor Dumbledore, followed by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. They had started at the same time but then the Heads had stopped to give further instructions to the school and let them disperse.

“Madame Maxime!” Fleur said at once, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also! And zat Hogwarts will ’ave two champions!”

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, considerable height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier as she glared down at Dumbledore.

“I forgot about all this with the trouble with Mr. Hayes. How do we proceed with this unfairness, Dumbly-dorr?” she said imperiously.

“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” said Karkaroff, his steely smile fixed, his eyes colder than ever. “Two Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions—or have I not read the rules carefully enough?”

He gave a short, nasty laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s no one’s fault but Potter’s, Karkaroff,” said Snape softly, his black eyes filled with dislike. “Don’t go blaming Dumbledore for Potter’s determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines since he arrived here.”

“Thank you, Severus,” said Dumbledore firmly, silencing further comments from the Potions Master. He turned to Harry. “Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?”

“No,” Harry said firmly, though Arthur noticed the anxiety in the boy’s eyes.

“Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?” Dumbledore continued, ignoring Madame Maxime’s impatient “Ah, but of course ’e is lying!”

“No,” said Harry strongly.

Throughout this exchange, Arthur remained silent, observing the political dynamics at play. The foreign headmasters were naturally protecting their schools’ interests, Snape was indulging his bias against Potter, and Dumbledore was trying to maintain control of an increasingly tense situation.

As the adults continued arguing, tensions high from everything that had happened tonight, Arthur finally spoke up. He did not like the poor boy being ganged up on like this.

“Headmaster, Potter didn’t enter himself,” he said, his calm voice cutting through the heated debate. Everyone turned to look at him, some apparently having forgotten he was even there. “From my example, it’s obvious the age line wasn’t foolproof. Any adult could enter anyone’s name like Mr. Bole entered mine.”

Karkaroff sneered. “And why should we believe—”

“In Potter’s case,” Arthur continued, ignoring the interruption, “it’s even more telling. He was selected as a fourth champion. Someone clearly tampered with the Goblet to recognize four schools instead of three. Otherwise, Potter wouldn’t have had a chance to be selected at all, since I was already among the contestants from Hogwarts.”

A moment of silence followed this logical assessment. Moody, who had entered during the commotion, gave Arthur an appraising look that didn’t match the Auror’s usual behavior.

“Makes sense,” Moody growled. “Powerful Confundus Charm to bamboozle that Goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete. I’d guess Potter’s name was submitted under a fourth school, to ensure he faced no competition.”

Fleur looked between Arthur and the professors, clearly confused. “But you said ’e was ze Hogwarts champion,” she said, pointing at Arthur. “Did ’e not enter ’imself either?”

“No, I didn’t,” Arthur confirmed.

Madame Maxime sighed dramatically. “Mr. Hayes ’ere caused quite ze scene in ze Great Hall. ’E refused to participate, claiming ’is name was entered without ’is knowledge. ’E even forced zese gentlemen and us,” she gestured toward Dumbledore and the Ministry officials, “to provide compensation in exchange for ’is participation.”

The other champions stared at Arthur with new interest. Even Krum, whose expression rarely changed, raised his eyebrows slightly.

“You refused ze Triwizard Tournament?” Fleur asked, incredulous. She had tried so hard and prayed to get selected, and here was someone who didn’t even want to be the champion.

Arthur shrugged. “It offered little that interested me.”

Harry, who had been watching this exchange with growing hope, suddenly straightened in his chair. “Can I do that too?” he asked urgently. “Can I refuse to participate? If someone else entered me, they’d be the one to lose their magic, right?”

Arthur glanced at the boy, feeling a bit of sympathy despite himself. “Unfortunately, you should have protested immediately in the Great Hall, as I did,” he explained. “By entering this chamber, you’ve implicitly accepted your role as champion.”

“What?” Harry’s face fell. “But no one told me that!”

Arthur gestured toward Dumbledore. “Ask the headmaster. I’m not responsible for informing you of magical protocols.”

Harry turned to Dumbledore, his expression betrayed, but the headmaster merely sighed heavily.

“I’m afraid Mr. Hayes is correct, Harry. The magic of the Goblet now binds you to compete.”

After several more minutes of pointless argument, Barty Crouch stepped forward, his face gaunt in the firelight. “We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the Tournament.”

“Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front,” said Bagman, beaming as though this settled the matter.

Crouch turned to address the four champions directly. “The first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard… very important.”

“The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges. The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the Tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the Tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests.”

After the briefing, Arthur approached Dumbledore. “The books I was promised,” he said, his voice firm. “When may I collect them?”

Dumbledore’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly. “You may collect the volume on alchemy from my office tomorrow morning, Mr. Hayes. Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime will provide their contributions to me by then as well.”

“Excellent,” Arthur replied, entirely unconcerned by the clear disapproval in the headmaster’s tone.

The meeting ended shortly after, with the foreign delegations leaving in obvious displeasure. As Arthur made his way back toward the Slytherin dungeons, he thought about what he’d gained from the evening’s events. The alchemy text from Dumbledore would be particularly valuable—the headmaster was famous for his work with Nicholas Flamel. Similarly, Beauxbatons’ tradition of excellence in enchantment meant Madame Maxime’s contribution would likely contain techniques unavailable in Britain.

The dark arts volume from Karkaroff held less appeal. Thanks to his extraction of Voldemort’s memories years ago, Arthur already possessed considerable theoretical knowledge of curses, rituals, and other forbidden magics. He understood their theory and countermeasures but had little interest in actually using them. Most required disgusting components or would corrupt the caster’s mind unless extensive precautions were taken—hardly worth the trouble when other magical approaches could achieve similar results without such drawbacks.

The Slytherin common room fell silent when Arthur entered. Students who had been excitedly discussing the evening’s events suddenly found their textbooks fascinating or became absorbed in staring at the ceiling. Arthur noticed several groups of upper-year students huddled in corners, their expressions ranging from worried to outright angry.

It wasn’t hard to figure out the situation. The smarter Slytherins had clearly realized what their housemates had accidentally done: rather than humiliating or endangering Arthur Hayes, they had instead handed him both glory and access to rare magical knowledge. The culprits were receiving a thorough verbal lashing from their peers for this spectacular miscalculation.

Arthur allowed himself a small, satisfied smile as he walked through the common room. The irony was perfect—their attempt to harm him had backfired completely. Without acknowledging anyone, he proceeded directly to his private room and closed the door.

As he prepared for bed, Arthur’s thoughts drifted not to the tournament challenges ahead, but to the ancient knowledge that would soon be his. Sometimes, it seemed, even pureblood scheming had its unexpected benefits.

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