Harry Potter with Technology System

Bagman, mopping his face with a handkerchief, looked uncertainly at Shacklebolt, who stood in the shadows, his expression unreadable. When he spoke, it was with a clipped, authoritative tone. "The rules are clear. Those whose names are drawn by the Goblet are bound to compete. There is no precedent for exceptions."

"Well, Kingsley Shacklebolt knows the rule book back to front," Bagman added hastily, his nervous smile aimed at Karkaroff. "This settles the matter, I would say." Bagman, beaming and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime as though the matter was now resolved. 

“How are we going to settle his two selections?” Snape’s voice cut sharply through the room. He stepped forward, standing between Harry and the others as though shielding him from further scrutiny. His dark gaze swept the group before landing on Dumbledore. “Is he to participate twice?”

Karkaroff’s veneer of calm snapped. “I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students,” he said, his tone icy. The faux charm was gone, replaced by a deep scowl. “Set up the Goblet of Fire once more, Dumbledore. We will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It’s only fair.”

“But Karkaroff, it doesn’t work like that,” Bagman interjected, holding up his hands as if trying to pacify him. “The Goblet of Fire’s just gone out—it won’t reignite until the start of the next tournament—”

“In which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!” Karkaroff exploded. He gestured wildly, his temper fraying with every word. “After all our meetings, negotiations, and compromises, I never expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!”

“Empty threat, Karkaroff,” Snape said, his voice low and cutting. “You can’t leave your champion behind. He’s bound to compete. They’re all bound. Just as Headmaster said. Convenient, isn’t it?”

Madame Maxime folded her arms and narrowed her eyes, turning to Dumbledore. “And what if he chooses one task over ze other? If he is to compete twice, zis is unfair.”

“That won’t happen,” Dumbledore said firmly, his tone steady. “The Goblet has declared Harry a champion. However irregular this may seem, we must abide by its decision.”

Harry stood silently, his expression neutral. He’d expected this chaos. Let them argue.

“But Dumbledore,” Bagman said, leaning in slightly, his usual jovial tone replaced with uncertainty. “How do we proceed with two entries? Surely it’s unprecedented.”

“The Goblet’s decision is final,” Dumbledore replied. His gaze swept the room, landing briefly on Harry. “There will be no changes. Harry Potter will compete as the Hogwarts champion. Twice. The circumstances, while unusual, do not alter the tournament’s rules.”

After a lengthy discussion, it was finally decided there was nothing to be done. The Goblet’s decisions were binding, and arguing further would only waste more time. Resigned to the unusual situation, they agreed to proceed.

“Well, shall we crack on, then?” Bagman said, rubbing his hands together, his cheery demeanor back in place. He glanced around the room with an exaggerated smile. “Got to give our champions their instructions, haven’t we? Kingsley, care to do the honors?”

Shacklebolt gave a curt nod, his gaze flicking toward Harry with a trace of concern. “Yes,” he said firmly, stepping forward to address the three champions. “The first task is designed to test your daring,” he explained, his tone brisk but clear. His eyes shifted between Harry, Viktor, and Fleur, lingering momentarily on Harry. “So, we won’t be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard... and a champion.”

The room was silent except for the faint crackling of the fireplace as he continued. “The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth,” he said. “It will be held in front of the other students and the panel of judges.” His expression hardened slightly as he added, “Champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help from their teachers in completing the tasks. You will face the challenge armed only with your wands.”

Fleur raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. Krum, on the other hand, simply nodded, his expression unreadable as he leaned back in his chair.

Shacklebolt’s eyes moved to Dumbledore briefly before returning to the champions. “You’ll be given details about the second task once the first is complete. Keep in mind that, due to the demanding nature of the tournament, champions are exempt from end-of-year exams.”

Bagman jumped in before anyone could speak, clapping his hands together. “Brilliant! That’s everything, then, isn’t it?”

Kingsley turned his head toward Dumbledore. “I believe that’s all, yes,” he said.

“Excellent!” Bagman beamed at the room as though the earlier tension had never existed. “Well, champions, get a good night’s rest—you’ve got a big month ahead of you!”

Dumbledore motioned toward the door, signaling the end of the meeting. “You are dismissed. If you have any further questions, you may bring them to me directly.”

Fleur swept past Harry with a faint huff, her head held high. Krum followed after a brief glance in Harry’s direction, his face giving nothing away.

Harry entered the Great Hall again. Students were still milling about, their eyes darting toward the staff table where he now made his way. As he passed by, heads turned. There were the usual suspects—jealous Gryffindors, suspicious Durmstrang students, and a handful of Beauxbatons girls whispering behind their hands.

Earlier, Harry had sent a message to everyone through their enchanted book, instructing them to stay put until he addressed the issue. When he finally reached the staff table and sat down at the empty seat at the center, the buzz in the hall didn’t diminish—it rose. He cast a long look across the sea of students, taking in the reactions. Some looked annoyed, others worried, and a fair number wore thinly veiled smirks as if this situation was just another advantage for them.

Harry waited for the noise to settle. When it didn’t, he stood. The motion was enough to quiet the room.

“I know what some of you are thinking,” he began, his tone loud enough to carry across the hall. “You think I put my name in the Goblet of Fire. That I somehow managed to cheat Headmaster’s protections and entered myself into the tournament.” He let the words hang for a moment, glancing at the Gryffindor table where Fred and George looked torn between admiration and disbelief. “I’m here to end those rumors before they spread any further.”

The hall remained silent, but Harry could feel the tension shifting as more students leaned forward, curious to hear what he’d say next.

“I don’t care about the glory, fame, or fortune this tournament offers,” he continued, his voice unwavering. “I don’t lack any of them. I could give each of you a thousand Galleons and still be the richest student in this room.” His gaze swept the hall, pausing momentarily on a few shocked faces. “As for fame—well, you all know my name. I didn’t ask for that, and I definitely don’t need more of it. And glory? That’s just another word for trouble wrapped in a fancy bow.”

Some students shifted uncomfortably, while others exchanged looks, processing his blunt dismissal of the tournament’s allure.

“So, no,” Harry said firmly. “I didn’t put my name in the Goblet. I didn’t ask anyone to do it for me, either. Someone else decided I should compete, and if I find out who, we’ll have words.” His voice dropped slightly on the last sentence, a dangerous edge creeping in, and more than a few people in the hall glanced away nervously.

He sat down again, leaning back slightly in his chair. The hall was eerily quiet for a moment before the whispers started back up, quieter this time but no less pervasive.