Harry Potter with Technology System

A hush fell over the hall as the flames in the Goblet flared. Sparks flew, and a piece of parchment shot out, floating gracefully into Dumbledore’s waiting hand. He glanced at it briefly before announcing, “The champion for Durmstrang is... Viktor Krum!”

Cheers erupted from the Durmstrang delegation, the applause spreading to the rest of the hall. Krum rose from his seat with a stoic expression, his broad shoulders set as he made his way to the front. His housemates watched him, their whispers filled with admiration and envy.

The flames flared again, and another parchment emerged. “The champion for Beauxbatons is... Fleur Delacour!”

Applause filled the hall again, though it was tinged with more whispers as the silver-haired girl from Beauxbatons stood gracefully, her head held high as she moved toward Dumbledore. Her beauty was striking, and Harry could already see the most boys nudging each other and whispering about her Veela heritage.

Finally, the flames turned blue once more, spitting out a third parchment. Dumbledore caught it and read, “The champion for Hogwarts is... Harry Potter!”

The room descended into a stunned silence, as though the collective breath of everyone present had been stolen. Even Harry wore a shocked expression. Fake, of course—but convincing enough to those around him. Every eye in the Great Hall locked on him, disbelief painted across countless faces.

Dumbledore stared at the parchment in his hand, then at Harry. "Come along, boy," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tense quiet.

Harry stood, keeping the act going as he slowly made his way to the front. Each step drew whispers, gasps, and the occasional glare. He was halfway there when the Goblet flared again. Blue flames shot upward, and another slip of parchment flew out.

The noise in the hall erupted.

Dumbledore caught the parchment midair and froze, his brows knitting together. He turned it over, reading aloud in a voice tinged with confusion. "Harry Potter... again?"

The hall fell into chaos.

"Again?" someone yelled.

"That’s not possible!" shouted another voice.

Dumbledore raised his hand, signaling for silence, though the murmurs persisted. He motioned to McGonagall, who was already striding toward Harry with a face like thunder. She reached him in seconds, gently but firmly gripping his shoulder. "Come with me, Potter," she said, her voice clipped.

Harry followed her out, ignoring the stares burning into his back. He kept his expression neutral as they passed through the side door into the antechamber, where Krum and Fleur were already waiting.

The two older students looked up, their expressions shifting when they saw who had entered. Krum’s eyes narrowed slightly, confusion and curiosity crossing his otherwise stoic face. Fleur, however, didn’t bother to hide her surprise.

"Are ze teachers calling uz?" she asked, glancing at Harry with a frown.

"No," Harry said smoothly, meeting her gaze without so much as a blink. His calm, steady tone and unshaken demeanor seemed to catch her off guard. Her head tilted slightly, and her lips parted as though she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

It wasn’t often Fleur Delacour was met with indifference, especially not from someone younger. Most boys would’ve been tripping over themselves to stammer out a response, dazzled by her Veela allure. But Harry simply walked past her and sat down in the empty chair beside Krum, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Well," he said, his tone light, "it seems I’m the champion of Hogwarts. Twice."

Viktor frowned, his eyes narrowing. “But... how? Is that even possible?”

“Seems like it is now,” Harry said dryly.

Fleur glanced at him, her surprise shifting to curiosity.  “So, you are entered twice. What does that mean for us?”

Harry shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Guess it means Hogwarts only has one champion, technically. I’ll just have to do twice the work.”

Krum exchanged a glance with Fleur, clearly unsettled. “If you are twice a champion, will you face two tasks each time?”

Harry considered this, tapping his fingers against the armrest. “I suppose we’ll find out.

Before either could respond, the door swung open again, and the rest of the staff poured in. Dumbledore led the way, followed closely by Snape, Moody, and, much to Harry’s lack of surprise, Shacklebolt, Karkaroff and Madame Maxime. Bagman trailed behind, his usual cheery expression replaced with a look of poorly concealed shock.

"Madame Maxime!" Fleur called, striding toward her headmistress with an elegance that managed to look furious. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!" Her words hung in the air, her tone dripping with disdain.

Somewhere under Harry’s forced calm, a flicker of irritation stirred. Little boy? Really? He didn’t so much as blink, keeping his expression blank, though he was already filing that comment away for later use.

Madame Maxime straightened to her full height, towering over nearly everyone in the room. Her black satin robes shimmered under the chandelier’s light, and her opal-studded fingers rested heavily on Fleur’s shoulder. “What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” she demanded, her voice sharp and pointed.

“I would rather like to know that myself,” Karkaroff added, his cold smile as welcoming as a brick wall. His pale blue eyes swept toward Dumbledore, narrowing as he spoke. “Two Hogwarts champions? I don’t recall reading in the rules that the host school is granted such... privileges. Though considering it’s the same student twice, I must admit it’s baffling.” His laughter was short and dry, the sound more of a sneer than anything else. “This is absurd! Hogwarts is clearly attempting to gain an advantage by having two entries for the same student!”

“Calm yourself, Igor,” Dumbledore said, though his voice lacked its usual warmth. “We are all equally confused by this turn of events.”

McGonagall stepped forward, her lips pressed into a thin line. “How are we to proceed, Albus? Harry’s name was entered twice. We can’t very well make him compete in duplicate.”

Madame Maxime’s gaze lingered on Harry, assessing. “Ze Goblet is binding. But zis... zis is a manipulation!” Madame Maxime declared, her disdain thick. Her hand tightened ever so slightly on Fleur’s shoulder. “Ogwarts cannot ‘ave two champions. It is most injust. And an underage one at zat.”

Karkaroff stepped closer, his voice turning icier. “We were told your Age Line would prevent this sort of nonsense, Dumbledore. If that’s not the case, we might’ve brought a wider selection of candidates ourselves.”

Before Dumbledore could respond, Moody cut in, his grizzled voice low and cutting. “No one’s fault but Potter’s, Karkaroff. Rule-breaking’s second nature to him. Always pushing boundaries—”

“Thank you, Alastor,” Dumbledore interrupted smoothly, his tone polite but firm. Moody’s magical eye twitched, but he fell silent, his sneer firmly in place.

Dumbledore turned to Harry, his expression neutral yet assessing as he peered over his half-moon spectacles. “Harry,” he said, his voice calm, “did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?”

“No,” Harry replied, keeping his tone steady. He could feel the weight of everyone’s stares pressing on him, but he ignored it.

"Did you ask an older student to put your name into the Goblet for you?" Dumbledore pressed.

"No," Harry repeated, more forcefully this time.

Madame Maxime’s snort of disbelief was immediate. "Ah, but of course, he iz lying!" she declared, her eyes flashing. Moody, leaning against the wall in the shadows, folded his arms and gave a faint, derisive shake of his head.

McGonagall’s voice cut through the tension like a whip. "He could not have crossed the Age Line," she said sharply. "And if Headmaster believes he didn’t persuade anyone to help him, that should be good enough for all of us." Her pointed glare landed squarely on Moody.

"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line," Madame Maxime suggested, shrugging dramatically. "It iz ze only explanation."

"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore replied politely, his tone carrying no defensiveness.

"Possible?" McGonagall snapped, her nostrils flaring. "You know perfectly well, Albus, that you didn’t make a mistake! What nonsense. Harry could not have crossed that line, and we all know it!"

Karkaroff’s oily smile returned as he gestured toward the judges. "Mr. Shacklebolt, Mr. Bagman, you are here to ensure fairness, are you not? Surely you see the irregularity of this situation?"