Stirring the Waters

The gentle flame flickers slowly, its blue and white light intertwining but not completely merging. The flame, rekindled after a century, rests in an old and rough wooden cup. The flame is not scorching, but only provides a faint warmth.

Two palm-sized strips of parchment lay quietly on the inner wall of the wooden cup. The uneven serrations at the edges seemed to indicate that the person who placed the strips inside had simply torn them off in a hurry. The flame gently flickered the parchment strips, and the hastily written characters were somewhat glaring.

It's understandable that Professor Moody, disguised as a pro, would put Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire; Voldemort needed Harry's blood for his Resurrection Ritual.

But why include Loren Morgan's name in the vote?

He wasn't a servant, nor could he have willingly given himself up... Could he possibly be his father's bone?

Loren was both surprised and angry. Luckily, he had been careful and came here to investigate tonight, otherwise he wouldn't even know how he had been plotted against.

Loren moved closer to examine the wooden cup. The pale blue flames blowing on his face did not cause any burning pain. On the inner wall of the cup, he could vaguely see characters smaller than mosquito ants, and not only in English. They were probably contracts and rules left behind by the three schools hundreds of years ago.

The characters that were once engraved on the inner wall of the wooden cup are no longer legible, and even the traces of the Rune and magic array around the bottom of the cup are somewhat blurred. This is the damage caused by the long years of being sealed away. Further out is a brand new ring of engravings, probably some repairs made for this Triwizard Tournament.

Although the Goblet of Goblet of Fire has a prestigious origin, it was ultimately just something that three schools put together a few hundred years ago to promote magical exchange among young wizards. The magic on it is not profound, and its functions were recorded in detail by the three schools, so repairing it is not difficult.

This also means that the Goblet of Fire has little resistance to external influences. Judging from the residual Magic Power in the vicinity, Professor Moody's Confundus Charm was simple and crude, without any finesse.

In that case...

Loren stared intently at the note lying at the bottom of the cup, extended his index finger, and a stream of Magic Power, neither weak nor strong, emerged from his body, carrying his intention to retrieve the note. It merged into the interior of the azure flame and moved towards the bottom of the wooden cup.

Perhaps the Goblet of Fire was stunned by Professor Moody's Confundus Charm and hadn't recovered yet, or perhaps the Goblet of Fire simply didn't have any defenses against someone taking out a note. In any case, under Loren's control, the Magic Power easily covered the note with his name on it.

With a slight thought, the palm-sized parchment slip was gently lifted, then rose up on its own without wind, swirling as it was blown away. The azure flames swayed slightly, and the slip flew out of the Goblet of Fire, landing in Loren's hand.

The note was warm to the touch, slightly hotter than a flame. His name was written on the front, and the name of Hogwarts School was written on the back.

Loren casually waved his hand, and the paper slip floated backward. As it floated in mid-air, the uneven edges of the paper fibers gradually turned black, and a truly scorching flame rose up, gradually engulfing the parchment. A wisp of bluish-white smoke rose and turned into a small amount of ash and disappeared.

He had no intention of participating in any Triwizard Tournament.

I don't need that thousand Galleon, nor do I have any intention of becoming the most outstanding Champion among the four schools.

As for Harry...

Loren's gaze fell on the last note in the Goblet of Fire. Although his roommate seemed to really want the Champion ' reputation, this game seemed to do more harm than good to him. Since he had already encountered it, it didn't seem appropriate to just pull himself out of the "fire pit".

With this thought in mind, Loren once again extended his Magic Power, attempting to retrieve the remaining note from the flames—but the next second, an unexpected situation occurred.

The originally gentle and tranquil flames suddenly flared up, and the pale blue flames without firewood emitted the sound of crackling wood, with scattered sparks flying out, carrying a scalding temperature like magma.

Loren swiftly withdrew his finger, frowned slightly, and looked thoughtfully at the Goblet of Fire.

Taking out the note with your own name on it is fine, but taking out Harry's note is not...

This rule is understandable, since the Goblet of Fire Triwizard Tournament follows the principle of voluntary registration. Before the Champion are selected, if someone voluntarily cancels their registration, the Goblet of Fire has no reason to stop them. However, if someone wants to help others cancel their registration, it would be considered unfair competition.

So Harry, the Champion, can't escape?

Should I tell Harry about this surprise beforehand...? Well, it seems I should find a chance to talk to Old Dumbledore.

Loren rubbed his forehead, slowly recalling the details of the subsequent Goblet of Goblet of Fire project and Voldemort's resurrection, and also remembering that someone actually wanted to drag him down with them.

Without a doubt, although it was Professor Moody who did this, the mastermind behind it was undoubtedly his master, Voldemort.

What exactly does he want to do?

This is so troublesome, I'm sleepy...

Loren rubbed his face, lowered his head, and watched as the azure flames slowly returned to their original state, burning gently and quietly.

I don't care anymore, I'll drag you all down with me.

Loren took a nap, and when he opened his eyes again, it was already broad daylight.

After washing up and changing clothes, I went downstairs and found the Gryffindor Common Room empty. The Wizard's Chess, Exploding Snap, and Quidditch tabletops that were usually played on weekends were all gone. It was so quiet that I could only hear the little Witch's quill scratching across the parchment, leaving blue-black ink marks.

Hermione sat in her usual spot by the window, with a basket of scones beside her notebook and reference books, emitting a slightly fermented wheat aroma.

Hearing the person sit down beside her, casually pick up a piece of bread, and take a bite, Hermione didn't look up. Only after finishing the last paragraph of her Transfiguration assignment did she put the quill back into the inkwell, hand over the marmalade, and ask, "You went for a night stroll last night, to the Goblet of Fire?"

The first half of the sentence is a declarative sentence, and the second half is an interrogative sentence.

With bread still in her mouth, Loren immediately began to complain, "You have no idea, Hermione, that fake Professor Moody is so shameless. He framed Harry, and now he even tried to frame me... Luckily, I'm resourceful and clever, otherwise you would have seen Morgan's Champion compete, and how embarrassing would that be for the other schools?"

Hermione took a moment to process his words, her brow furrowing slightly. "You mean, someone put your and Harry's names into the Goblet of Fire?"

"That's right, they actually wanted to drag me into this..."

Loren swallowed a mouthful of bread. "That Goblet of Fire was ruined by the renovations. It's fine when I take my own note, but it goes crazy and starts acting up when I take Harry's. It's shameful that the Three-School Wizards seven hundred years ago could make something like this..."

"So, Harry's name is still in the Goblet of Fire?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"I didn't give up on him. I went to the Headmaster's office, but Headmaster Dumbledore wasn't there... I thoughtfully left him a letter, worried that Fawkes might eat it. I even asked the old headmaster on the wall to pass it on to Dumbledore."

Hermione pursed her lips, feeling restless. She closed her textbook, grabbed Loren's hand, and headed outside.

"Hey, let me have a couple more bites, what's the rush..."

Lunchtime.

"Have you heard? The people of Durmstrang Ilvermorny already put their names into the Goblet of Fire this morning!"

Seamus loudly proclaimed the information he had gathered, drawing frequent glances from the young wizards at the long table. "Slytherin and Ravenclaw House have also submitted their nominations. Tsk, I wonder if they'll be selected?"

"I think Cedric has the best chance of winning," Dean sighed. "If Weasley were still here, he would definitely be able to represent Gryffindor and be selected as the Champion."

"Weasley, which Weasley?"

"Of course it's Percy Weasley. Could it be Ron Weasley?"

"!!"

Ron slammed his fist on the table in anger. Why did these people have to drag him into the comparisons?

Harry's shoulders were shrugging as he buried his head in his plate, seemingly engrossed in eating his steak, except when you ignored the occasional slurping sounds he couldn't help making...

"Do you think Headmaster Dumbledore received your letter?" Hermione asked anxiously. She had dragged Loren to all the professors' offices that morning, but they had all come up empty-handed.

"You can go to the High Table and ask, in front of Professor Moody." Loren handed her the bowl of soup and gestured toward the High Table.

The headmasters of the four schools, all the professors of Hogwarts, and the members of the tribunal were dining at the High Table table, clinking glasses and chatting happily. Hagrid sat next to Madam Maxime, his face beaming with joy.

Hermione swallowed a spoonful of mushroom soup and looked towards the High Table the Great Hall — Headmaster Dumbledore was sitting in the center. Noticing her gaze, he winked at her and gave her a slight smile.

She didn't say anything, but Hermione's anxiety immediately subsided.

In the evening.

The young wizards huddled together in a noisy circle, staring at the thin gold thread that had appeared on the floor in the center of the Entrance Hall, and the Goblet of Fire on the high stool, their eyes reflecting the blazing flames.

"Quick, Cedric, put it in!"

The Hufflepuff wizards shoved Cedric as he tossed a slip of paper with his name on it into the Goblet of Fire, and the crowd erupted in enthusiastic applause.

"Eternal glory, that's fantastic, don't you think?" Ron's applause was half-hearted, and his expression was somewhat jealous. "We just need to wait patiently for three years, and we can participate in the selection too."

"You're right, I'll definitely support you next time." Harry smiled, seemingly unconcerned about the title of Champion.

Loren added at the opportune moment, "It's a pity that the Triwizard Tournament only comes once every five years."

Hermione glanced at Harry, then at Loren, her expression complex, as if she wanted to say something but hesitated. Just as the four of them found a good spot to sit, they heard a burst of boisterous cheers coming from the doorway.

"Alas!"

George and Fred ran in through the door, circling around like celebrities and high-fiving the young wizards they knew.

"Thank you, thank you..."

George and Fred stopped in front of everyone with smiles on their faces.

"Alright, guys, we've succeeded."

"Freshly baked this morning, oh, that's a figure of speech."

"Guys," George squatted down next to Ron, "Only four Galleon, really not interested?"

Ron kept a straight face and ignored him.

"And you guys?" Fred held up a small bottle and waved it around under Harry, Loren, and Hermione's noses.

"I don't think it will work," Hermione couldn't help but interrupt their sales pitch.

"Really? How do you know it won't work, Miss Granger?"

"See this?" Hermione pointed to a circle of gold threads, radiating the aura of Miss Know-It-All, as she meticulously relayed the secondhand knowledge she had just heard, "The Age Line set by Dumbledore. It not only detects your physical condition but also your Magic Power. A magical master like Dumbledore wouldn't be fooled by some low-level tricks, such as— Draught of Living Death."

"That's the amazing thing." George stood up, holding the small bottle, and unscrewed the stopper.

Fred followed up. "The more basic, the more effective."

The Twins downed the Draught of Living Death in one gulp, as if drinking from a shared cup, and under the watchful eyes of everyone in the Entrance Hall, they successfully jumped into the golden coil, drawing cheers from the young wizards watching.

"That's fantastic! That's fantastic!"

Ron had already reached into his pocket, but then he heard a hissing sound and saw the Twins being thrown into the air, landing painfully ten feet away on the cold stone ground.

With a loud popping sound, identical long white beards sprouted from the chins of the two men, causing the audience to burst into laughter, and even the two men themselves couldn't help but laugh out loud.

The Halloween dinner was a bit quieter than in previous years. The dome wasn't decorated for a dark and stormy night, and there were no Jack-o'-lantern with eerie flames burning in the Great Hall and corridors.

Even the ghosts were uninterested. Bloody Baron and Grey Lady repeatedly warned them not to suddenly pop out from the dining table while the young wizards were eating, or to droop their heads from the ceiling before the young wizards got up...

However, the banners from the four schools added a new dimension to the Great Hall, and the blazing blue flames in front of the main High Table overshadowed all the candles, becoming the most dazzling light in the Great Hall.

Hermione took a sip of Pumpkin Juice and sighed with feigned regret, "You know what? Moaning Myrtle's stage play got canceled. Apparently, she was planning to recreate the scene of the night she was murdered. What a pity..."

Loren glanced at her expression and pondered for a moment, "I can convey your regret to Moaning Myrtle, and I believe she would be very willing to put on a show just for you."

Hermione suddenly choked on the Pumpkin Juice and coughed. "No, no need..."

"Do you know who else from our school has signed up besides Cedric?" Ron asked mysteriously.

"Who else?" Everyone around him looked at him.

"Peggin Derrick of Slytherin, Roger Davis of Ravenclaw, and Angelina of Gryffindor."

"Angelina, is she seventeen yet?"

"It was my birthday just last week."

"George and Fred must be so envious."

"..."

Harry scratched his head, wondering if it was just his imagination, but he felt that Loren and Hermione were looking at him strangely.