Harry Potter with Technology System

Ch368- Joining the Club

The moment Harry stepped into his dormitory, he flicked his wand to lock the door and exhaled. He wasn’t tired, but the politics were exhausting. The way the professors, headmasters, and Ministry officials had circled around the issue without actually doing anything was almost comical. They would wasted an entire evening pretending they had control when the truth was painfully simple—the Goblet had made its choice, and no amount of arguing would change it.

“Well, Harry,” Nigel’s voice drawled in his mind. “You certainly made sure the Goblet picked you as Hogwarts’ champion. Barty Jr. confunded it into thinking there were four schools and placed your name under his made-up institution, then added your name and confunded the Goblet to choose you. Gotta say, though, your Confundus was cleaner.”

Harry shrugged as he pulled off his tie and tossed it onto his desk. “Barty wasn’t willing to risk it,” he said. “If he only put my name in from Hogwarts, there was a chance I wouldn’t get picked.”

He sat down on his bed, kicking off his shoes. The Goblet’s enchantments had been old, but they weren’t particularly sophisticated. Whatever powerful magic had bound the selections was rigid in execution, not dynamic. It didn’t check for logic—just followed the rules it had been given. The moment it had accepted the existence of a fourth school, it had blindly assigned a champion to it. And now, Hogwarts had two champions—both of them him.

"Still, impressive," Nigel remarked. "Though watching the old headmaster pretend he has no idea what’s going on and just repeating 'The Goblet has spoken' was fun."

Harry shook his head as he pulled off his robe and tossed it onto the chair. "At this point, I don’t know what he’s playing at. He knows Barty Crouch Jr. is impersonating Moody. He knows the real one is rotting in a trunk somewhere. He knows my name was forced into the tournament. Maybe he didn’t expect the Goblet to pick me twice, but he hasn’t done a damn thing about any of it."

He sat down on the edge of his bed, staring at the canopy above him. "I don’t know what he wants," he muttered. Dumbledore always had his own plans running in the background, but this was ridiculous. Even for him.

The Goblet had locked him in—twice. That meant he wasn’t just competing as a Hogwarts champion; he was technically competing against himself. No precedent. No rules for this. Just a bunch of confused adults pretending they weren’t scrambling.

He exhaled through his nose. "Either he’s waiting for something, or he’s testing how far I’ll go."

---

The following week was mostly quiet. The initial chaos surrounding Harry’s name in the Goblet had died down, leaving behind nothing but lingering stares and occasional whispers. Some students still debated theories about how he got in, while others had moved on to making bets about the first task.

One person, in particular, was one of the most vocal about his double selection, but once her temper settled, she seemed to reconsider her opinion of him. That shift wasn’t entirely unexpected—Harry already knew she had been favorably inclined toward him before arriving at Hogwarts. Nicolas Flamel’s praise had ensured that. Now, after hearing about his work in the Duelling Club, particularly his lessons on resisting the Imperius Curse, she decided to pay him a visit.

It happened during one of the Duelling Club’s evening meetings. The classroom had been magically expanded to accommodate the growing number of students. The enchanted training dummies flickered as they adjusted their difficulty levels, reacting to the individual progress of each duelist. The sound of spells being cast filled the hall, along with the occasional frustrated shout from students struggling to land a hit.

Harry stood near the front, scanning through the Magic Book’s latest updates. Several names had moved up the ranking board, with Daphne and Pansy edging higher due to their recent wins. He was about to call the next round when the large double doors creaked open.

Madame Maxime entered, her towering presence immediately drawing attention. Conversations hushed as students turned to watch her approach. She didn’t seem to mind the stares, her focus solely on Harry as she stopped a few feet away.

“You ‘ave quite ze reputation, Monsieur Potter,” she said, her voice measured.

Harry closed the Magic Book and smiled as he got up to welcome her. “Depends who you ask.”

She gave a small smile. “I knew you were talented, but I ‘ad not realized you were already teaching.”

“I wouldn’t call it teaching,” Harry said, tucking the book away. “Just making sure everyone knows how to defend themselves.”

Her eyes swept over the room, lingering on a group of students practicing counter-curses against simulated Imperius effects. “I spoke with Professor McGonagall. She says all your students successfully resisted ze Imperius Curse.”

Harry nodded. “Every single one. Took time, but it worked.”

Maxime seemed genuinely impressed. “Zat is remarkable. Even trained wizards struggle against such a curse.”

“It’s not impossible,” Harry replied. “People just assume it is because no one bothers to teach it properly.”

She chuckled. “That is true.” Her eyes flicked back to the students practicing across the room. “Your dueling club is quite impressive. I was told you train all ‘Ogwarts students ‘ere?”

Harry nodded. “Anyone who wants to learn is welcome.”

She studied him for a moment, then smiled. “It seems Parenelle was right about you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Mrs. Flamel? She’s been talking about me?”

Madame Maxime let out a soft laugh. “Non-stop. Ever since I told her I was coming to Hogwarts, she has only spoken of two things—her work and you. She is quite fond of you.”

Harry huffed a laugh. “That explains a lot.”

“She also mentioned ze books.” Maxime’s eyes flicked toward the one on the desk. “Zey are bound to each user, no?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Everyone who joins gets one, but they have to bind themselves to it first.”

She nodded. “I would like to see one.”

Harry grabbed an unbound copy from his desk and handed it to her. “You’ll need a drop of blood to complete the binding.”

Madame Maxime turned the book over in her large hands, inspecting the leather cover and silver runes etched into the spine. “Parenelle said you created zese yourself. Impressive work for someone your age.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s not that complicated.”

She let out a knowing hum. “Do not be modest. Even skilled enchanters would struggle with this level of integration.” She ran a finger over the runes before looking back at him. “And you are certain zere is no blood magic involved?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s just a guide. The book needs a magical signature to connect to the user’s mind and track progress. The blood helps establish that link.”

Maxime nodded. “It reads surface thoughts, oui?”

“Only to assess spell mastery. The connection is shallow. If someone doesn’t want it to read anything, blocking it is easy.”

She considered that, then gave a small smile. “I see why Parenelle was impressed.” Without hesitation, she pricked her finger and let a drop of blood fall onto the book. The runes pulsed faintly before the pages flipped open on their own. The ink shifted, forming a list of spells under her name, detailing her proficiencies and areas for improvement.

She skimmed through the entries, eyebrows raising slightly as she saw the accuracy of the assessment. “It works instantly?”

Harry nodded. “It scans the basic structure of your magic and cross-references it with known spell casting patterns. From there, it can track how well you perform different spells.”

“Fascinating,” she murmured. “My students could benefit from zis.”

Harry leaned against his desk. “They’re welcome to join, but they’ll need to bind their own books. No exceptions.”

She looked at him, considering his words. “You do not mind Beauxbatons students learning from you?”

Harry shrugged. “More people who know how to fight, the better.”

Madame Maxime smiled. “Zen I shall inform them.” She turned another page, watching the text shift to display her ranking based on spell mastery. “And zis ranking system... you truly treat zis like a competition.”

“It keeps things interesting,” Harry said. “Everyone pushes themselves harder when there’s a goal.”

She chuckled. “You are certainly not like other British wizards.”

Harry smirked. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Maxime spent a few more minutes flipping through the book before handing it back. “I will send my students to you tomorrow.”

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