Harry Potter with Technology System

The protections didn’t stop Harry. With a small twist of his wand, Harry adjusted the flow of magic in the first rune. The faint hum of resistance faded, and he stepped forward, passing through the barrier without any trouble. His lips tugged upward in a faint smirk. "Tight circle, my arse," he muttered under his breath as he approached the Goblet of Fire.

The Goblet’s blue flames licked upward, shifting slightly as if aware of his presence. Harry leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he examined the way the flames moved. He could feel the subtle magic emanating from it.

He checked the goblet to see how Voldemort had tampered with it. But after a few moments, he realized he was giving far too much credit to the wraith. "A simple Confundus Charm? Seriously?" He shook his head, his lips curling slightly in disbelief. "I was expecting something more creative—at least some real tampering."

Nigel’s voice piped up. "Looks like they confunded the poor Goblet to think there’s a fourth school participating. From this mysterious fourth school, only one name’s been submitted—yours. So, congratulations, Harry, you’re the guaranteed pick for this bogus institution."

Harry nodded, already saw through the charm. He pulled a small piece of parchment from his pocket. He produced a quill and wrote his name on the parchment.

"Harry, are you sure about this?" Nigel asked, the question surprisingly direct. "You said you wanted to figure out Voldemort’s plan first."

Harry chuckled under his breath, glancing at the Goblet. "I still do. I’m not suicidal, Nigel. At worst, I won’t touch the Goblet after the final round, and that’ll keep me from getting portkeyed to him."

"Fair enough," Nigel replied. "But why put your name in again? Seems like Barty Crouch Jr. already handled that for you."

Harry smirked as he folded the parchment neatly in half. "Oh, I’ve got a plan in mind."

Nigel didn’t press further, which suited Harry just fine. He took a moment to check the Goblet again, his wand casually tracing a rune on its side to confirm his suspicions. The Confundus Charm was rudimentary at best, like someone rushing to finish their homework five minutes before class. No finesse, no depth—just enough magic to get the job done.

Harry stepped closer to the Goblet’s flickering blue flames, holding his folded parchment between two fingers. The fire flared slightly as he approached, almost as if acknowledging him. Without any hesitation, he tossed the parchment into the flames. The paper caught fire immediately, curling into ash before disappearing entirely.

"Well, there it is," Harry said, dusting his hands off. He studied the Goblet one last time, its blue flames flickering innocently as if it hadn’t just been tampered with twice. Tracing the runes once more with the tip of his wand, he decided not to bother with them. Voldemort hadn’t done anything overly intricate—just a Confundus Charm slapped together by Barty Crouch Jr. It wasn’t worth tampering further.

He shook his head, cast his own Confundus Charm with a quick flick, and straightened up. "Tomorrow, it’ll be a shocking sight," he muttered with a smirk, stepping back out of the rune circle.

Pulling his cloak tighter around him, he walked briskly out of the Great Hall. He slipped the Invisibility Cloak back over himself as he made his way through the castle, avoiding the odd patrolling ghost or Filch lurking in the shadows.

The next morning, the Great Hall buzzed with energy. Whispers spread like wildfire, conversations overlapping as students speculated about the Goblet and the tournament. Harry strolled in with Tracey and Daphne, sliding into their usual seats at the Slytherin table.

“Looks like everyone’s losing their minds over the Goblet already,” Tracey said, glancing at the Gryffindor table where Fred and George were loudly arguing with Angelina Johnson.

“Can you blame them?” Daphne replied, buttering her toast. “It’s not every day you get a chance at eternal glory—or death by trial, depending on how you look at it.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. “Glory? You’ve been spending too much time listening to Bagman.”

Daphne smirked. “Well, someone’s got to balance out your pessimism, Potter.”

Tracey leaned over, stealing a piece of bacon from Harry’s plate but he managed stop her. “So,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, “what’s the over-under on some idiot trying to cheat their way in?”

As if on cue, Fred and George Weasley sprang to their feet, dramatically brandishing a small vial of Ageing Potion. They weren’t alone in their plan to outsmart Dumbledore’s protections. Summers from Hufflepuff and Fawcett from Ravenclaw joined them, all brimming with confidence.

The four approached the circle surrounding the Goblet of Fire with the swagger of students convinced they had cracked the code. Fred grinned at the crowd gathering to watch. “Right, lads, this is how it’s done. Watch and learn.”

George uncorked the vial, passing it to Fred, who took a small swig. George followed, making an exaggerated face like it was the most foul potion he ever tasted. Summers and Fawcett followed suit, though their confidence wavered slightly as they approached the line.

Fred led the charge, stepping boldly across the glowing barrier. The moment his foot touched the line, the protections activated. He was sent flying backward with a loud crack, landing in an undignified heap several feet away. George joined him a second later, followed by Summers and Fawcett, who both hit the floor with twin thuds.

The watching students erupted in laughter as the four scrambled to their feet, groaning. It wasn’t just the spectacular failure that had them in stitches—it was the appearance of long, fine white beards growing from their chins at an alarming rate.

Fred tried to swat the beard away as though it were a particularly aggressive Bowtruckle. “Alright, so maybe not our best idea,” he muttered, tugging at the silvery strands now trailing down to his chest.

George was too busy inspecting his reflection in a conjured hand mirror to care about his twin’s regret. “I don’t know, Fred. This might be a good look for us. Distinguished, don’t you think?”

“You look like Merlin’s dodgy cousin,” Harry called from the Slytherin table, smirking.

Summers groaned, holding her head as her beard tangled in her hands. “I think my face is burning!”

Dumbledore, who had witnessed the entire spectacle from the staff table, chuckled softly as he rose to his feet. “Well, that was certainly... entertaining,” he said, his voice carrying easily over the laughter. “Madam Pomfrey will sort you out. I would recommend refraining from further experimentation.” His eyes twinkled as they landed on the twins. “For your own dignity, of course.”

Fred gave a mock bow, his beard swishing dramatically. “As you wish, Professor. But you can’t say we didn’t liven things up.”

The crowd began to disperse, though the lingering giggles followed Fred, George, Summers, and Fawcett as they were escorted out of the Great Hall, still muttering complaints about “flawed potions” and “unfair barriers.”

Tracey turned to Harry, her lips twitching with amusement. “So much for ingenuity. Think they’ll try again?”

Harry shrugged. “Probably. They’re persistent if nothing else.”

Daphne smirked, pouring herself a cup of tea. “Persistent and stupid. Not the best combination.”

The day passed with an undercurrent of excitement, the Goblet of Fire drawing students like moths to a flame. By evening, the Great Hall was packed as the time for the champions’ selection drew near. The Goblet sat at the front of the room, its blue flames crackling and casting long shadows on the enchanted ceiling. Every eye was fixed on it, the anticipation thick enough to cut with a knife.

Dumbledore stood once again, his calm demeanor contrasting with the restless energy of the students. “The time has come,” he announced, his voice steady but carrying weight. “The Goblet of Fire has made its decisions. When your name is called, please come forward to join your headmaster or headmistress. You will then proceed to the antechamber to receive further instructions.”