The Goblet of Fire Meeting Under the Moonlight

Chapter 359 The Goblet of Fire Meeting Under the Moonlight (6.3K) (2/2)

Dumbledore led Mrs. Maxim and Headmaster Karkaroff at the front, the three headsmasters forming a peculiar combination.

The Beauxbatons students, filled with curiosity and a touch of weariness, followed closely behind. Their light blue silk robes shimmered softly in the torchlight as they curiously examined Hogwarts' ancient, somewhat dimly lit stone corridors and the moving staircase paintings. The Durmstrang students, however, were much quieter. Their heavy fur cloaks rustled on the floor, their blood-red robes standing out starkly against Hogwarts' silver-green, gold-red, blue-copper, and yellow-black hues, exuding a chilling aura. Viktor Krum, in particular, drew the attention of almost all the students, though he himself remained silent, his brow furrowed.

The Hogwarts students automatically made way, excitedly discussing and jostling behind, surging towards the Great Hall.

The air was unusually lively due to the sudden increase in the number of people and the mixture of different accents and languages.

As everyone entered the auditorium, the sight before them prompted many Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students to murmur in awe.

Thousands of candles floated on the enchanted ceiling, illuminating four long tables already laden with glittering gold and silver platters. But unlike before, the faculty tables had been extended, and the teachers' seats had been rearranged to provide ample space for the guests. Tonight, the ceiling reflected the deep, starlit night sky, dotted with wisps of cloud.

Under Dumbledore's direction, the Beauxbatons students were seated at the Ravenclaw table, while the Durmstrang students sat at the Slytherin table.

This arrangement immediately sparked new observations and whispers. Beauxbatons' elegance and Ravenclaw's erudition seemed to complement each other, while Durmstrang's aloofness and Slytherin's reserve created an interesting atmosphere.

The three principals took their seats in the center of the faculty section.

Mrs. Maxim's chair was silently enlarged and reinforced, her posture composed and elegant. Karkaroff, on the other hand, kept glancing around, his face still bearing that overly enthusiastic smile, occasionally saying something to Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall beside him.

The dinner officially began after a brief toast by Dumbledore.

In an instant, a more lavish spread of food than usual appeared on the long table—not only traditional British dishes, but also French escargot, cream stew, German sausages and pork knuckles, and Nordic-style smoked fish, clearly a carefully prepared "international menu."

The auditorium was immediately filled with the sounds of clinking cutlery, chewing, and buzzing conversations.

The Hogwarts students tried their best to be polite and well-mannered, but their eyes kept drifting involuntarily to the guests. The Gryffindors were most interested in Krum, the Hufflepuffs curiously examined the Beauxbatons girls' delicate hair ornaments, the Ravenclaws tried to converse with the Beauxbatons students next to them about their studies in French or English, and the Slytherins maintained a silent exchange with the Durmstrang students that was characterized by mutual scrutiny and a hint of competition.

Lynch sat on the edge of the faculty section, his gaze calmly sweeping across the noisy auditorium before finally settling on Mrs. Maxim. Just then, the tall headmistress also turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Lynch's for a fleeting moment. Her gaze was steady, and she gave Lynch a slight nod.

Lin Qi smiled and nodded in return, then looked away as if it were just a casual greeting.

The raven on his shoulder perched quietly on the top of the back of his chair, its dark eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight and countless swaying faces in the auditorium.

Just as the last batch of syrup fruit tarts disappeared from the golden platters, and the conversations in the Great Hall grew more languid yet more expectant with the satisfaction of being full, Headmaster Dumbledore stood up again, and all eyes were on him.

"Gentlemen, please allow me to interrupt this pleasant meal," Dumbledore said with a smile, his blue eyes sweeping over the students of the three schools. "The dinner is excellent, but I think we all know another important reason for our gathering here tonight. The Triwizard Tournament is about to begin, and before the tournament officially starts, there is an indispensable part, and the first important moment, that is about to arrive."

He paused briefly.

"First, please allow me to introduce two distinguished guests from the Ministry of Magic, who will play important official roles in this event." Dumbledore raised his arm and pointed towards the Great Hall doors.

Almost as soon as he finished speaking, the two heavy oak doors of the auditorium were slowly pushed open.

The first to walk in was a short, stout man with an overly bright smile that seemed to never change. As soon as he entered, he waved vigorously at the students, eliciting a low cheer and murmur—it was Ludo Bagman, a former famous batter and now an official of the Department of Magical Sports.

Closely following him was Barty Crouch, the Director of the International Department of Magical Cooperation.

In stark contrast to Bagman's flamboyance, Mr. Crouch was thin and serious, his hair meticulously combed back, wearing a well-tailored but outdated and conservative wizard's robe. His face was expressionless, his steps stiff and precise, and he carried an unusually heavy black metal box with no decoration on its surface.

His appearance caused the noise in the Great Hall to subside somewhat, and many students, especially the upperclassmen who were familiar with the structure of the Ministry of Magic, instinctively sat up straight.

The two walked through the auditorium one after the other, heading towards the faculty section.

Bagman nodded to several students who seemed to recognize him as he walked, while Crouch kept his eyes straight ahead and went straight to the spot reserved next to Dumbledore.

"Welcome, Mr. Bagman, Mr. Crouch." Dumbledore shook hands with them. "Thank you both for coming."

"Oh, it's my honor, Albus! Absolutely an honor!" Bagman's voice boomed, brimming with enthusiasm. "I'm so excited about the upcoming exciting match that I can't sleep!"

Crouch simply nodded: "It's my duty, Headmaster Dumbledore."

Dumbledore then turned to the open space in the center of the Great Hall and raised his wand.

Without chanting any incantations, he simply flicked his wrist gracefully, and the tip of the staff drew a smooth silver trajectory in the air.

On the smooth stone floor in the center of the Great Hall, accompanied by a low rumble and subtle vibrations, a thick, flat-topped gray stone pillar slowly rose until it reached a height of about one and a half people before coming to a steady stop. The pillar's rough, ancient surface blended seamlessly with the old architectural style of Hogwarts.

"Now," Dumbledore's voice carried a sense of declaration, "please allow us to present one of the core figures of tonight's, and indeed the entire Triwizard Tournament."

All eyes were focused on the black metal box that Mr. Crouch had placed at his feet. Crouch knelt down and used a seemingly ordinary key, which instantly revealed complex magical patterns the moment it touched his fingertips, to unlock the box.

"Click".

The sound of the latch popping open was exceptionally clear in the silent auditorium.

Crouch slowly lifted the lid of the box, stretched out his hands, and solemnly took out an item from the box.

It was a huge, rough wooden goblet, seemingly extremely old, with a dark brown wood and deep scratches and wear marks all over its surface. In the box, it looked like just an old, even somewhat unremarkable wooden cup, without any luster or anything unusual about it.

Crouch, holding the seemingly ordinary wooden cup, walked with steady and solemn steps toward the newly erected stone pillar. He stepped onto the invisible steps that appeared at the base of the pillar, climbed to the top, and then carefully and upright placed the wooden cup on the flat surface at the top of the pillar.

Just as the wooden cup base touched the top of the stone pillar, "BOOM!"

A bright, pure blue-white flame suddenly shot up from the bottom of the glass without warning, instantly filling the entire glass, and then burning steadily and powerfully! The flame leaped and flickered silently, its light not dazzling, but carrying a penetrating, ethereal blue that tinted the surrounding air with a mysterious hue. An ancient, heavy wave containing the power of a powerful magical contract then spread out, sweeping across the entire hall.

The once ordinary wooden cup seemed to be infused with a soul the moment the flames ignited, transforming it into a magical relic that captivated all who looked at it.

An uncontrollable gasp, a mixture of amazement and awe, filled the auditorium.

Dumbledore's voice rang out at the opportune moment, clear and solemn: "As you can see, this is the Goblet of Fire. Tonight, it will be officially placed in the foyer. All students who wish to run for Champion of our school may drop a parchment with their name and school into the goblet."

He paused, his gaze sharpening, and raised his voice to ensure everyone could hear: "But! Listen carefully! The Goblet of Fire will make its choice at the Halloween banquet tomorrow night. Once chosen, you will become a champion, obligated to abide by the contract and complete all the events of the Triwizard Tournament. This is a magically binding decision; once your name is cast into the goblet, it means you agree to abide by this contract, and there is no going back."

He looked around the room and saw a spark of eagerness ignited in the eyes of many students.

"Therefore," Dumbledore continued, his tone turning stern, "I must emphasize that this is not a game. The Triwizard Tournament is not only difficult, but also fraught with danger. There have been injuries and fatalities in every tournament. So, to prevent underage and inexperienced students from being unnecessarily tempted, and to ensure fairness, I, along with the other two headmasters, Mr. Bagman, and Mr. Crouch, have decided..."

He paused again, and the auditorium was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"Establish an age limit," Dumbledore's voice was firm. "Only those who are seventeen years of age or older—that is, students who will turn seventeen by August 31st of next year—will be allowed to cast their names into the Goblet of Fire. This limit will be drawn around the Goblet of Fire by a specific spell, and any underage person who attempts to cross it will be magically prevented, and—" he emphasized slightly, "may suffer some unpleasant consequences."

As soon as he finished speaking, a wave of disappointed sighs and protests erupted from the lower-grade students' seats, especially from the sixth-grade students who had just turned or were about to turn sixteen.

Fred and George Weasley looked as if their last candy had been snatched away. The seventh-graders, and the noticeably older students like Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, straightened their backs, their eyes shining even brighter.

"This boundary will take effect tonight once the Goblet of Fire is properly placed," Dumbledore concluded. "Now, prefects, please lead your students back to the common rooms. Guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, your supervisors will guide you to the common rooms. Please rest well tonight and think carefully. Tomorrow, the Goblet of Fire will await the names of those who truly aspire to be champions."

He waved his hand, signaling the prefects to take action.

The crowd began to surge forward noisily and slowly, and the murmurs of discussion swept through the hall once more. As everyone left, their eyes couldn't help but return to the wooden cup, quietly burning with blue-white flames—an ancient artifact symbolizing danger, glory, and an unknown destiny.

As the last student's excited chatter faded into the depths of the corridors leading to the towers and basements, an unassuming oak door beside the auditorium was gently closed, shutting out the outside noise.

Inside the door was an elegantly furnished and moderately sized side hall, with portraits of past principals hanging on the walls. At this moment, they all wisely remained silent or pretended to be dozing off.

This is where the most crucial decision-makers and those in the know at Hogwarts are gathered at this moment:

The three headmasters, Dumbledore, Madam Maxim, and Karkaroff, sat opposite Crouch and Bagman from the Ministry of Magic. The four heads of Hogwarts' houses sat on either side, with Moody near the door, his constantly rotating Magic Eye adding to the already tense atmosphere, while Lynch sat a little further back, seemingly a quiet observer, yet impossible to completely ignore.

The conversation unfolded in an atmosphere that appeared pragmatic on the surface but was actually quite tense underneath.

Crouch spearheaded the process, repeatedly confirming the safety regulations for each aspect of the event and the boundaries of the Ministry of Magic's oversight responsibilities. Bagman occasionally chimed in with his emphasis on "excitement" and "public expectations," only to be calmly steered back to practical considerations by Professor McGonagall. The stability of age-limit magic, the absolute binding force of the Goblet of Fire's ancient covenant, and contingency plans for unforeseen circumstances were also key points of discussion.

Mrs. Maxim and Karkaroff were more concerned with the specific living and training arrangements for their students during their time at Hogwarts.

Karkaroff appeared particularly nervous, instinctively resisting any suggestion involving scrutiny or increased security. His fingertips tapped unconsciously on the armrest of his chair, and his gaze darted around. His unease almost spilled over when Snape raised the hypothetical "contractual loopholes" or "unconventional methods" in that deep, slightly sarcastic voice.

The "Mirror of the Distant Light" broadcasting plan, spearheaded by the Stone Tower Merchant Guild, endorsed by the Ministry of Magic, and ultimately agreed to by Hogwarts, was officially confirmed. This wasn't without controversy, but it was a done deal. Discussions covered the scope of image transmission, the final decision-making power regarding content selection, and, most importantly, the technological safeguards against magical spying. This topic made Crouch even more rigid, Bagman's eyes light up, and the heads of the house exchange worried glances.

Lynch remained absolutely silent for most of the time, his eyelids slightly lowered, as if he were immersed in his own thoughts, his fingertips occasionally tapping lightly on the carved armrest of the chair unconsciously.

Only when the topic inevitably turns to Hogwarts' overall security during the event, especially around the castle,

Only when he was on the edge of the forbidden forest and guarding against possible external intrusions would a few eyes fall on him, either explicitly or implicitly.

As the most unfathomable wizard at Hogwarts besides Dumbledore, and possessing unique privileges and residences in the castle and the Forbidden Forest, the substantial responsibility for the security of the campus and surrounding areas during the Triwizard Tournament naturally fell on his shoulders.

"Professor Lynch, Professor Moody," Professor McGonagall turned to him, her tone a direct inquiry between colleagues, as she discussed the potential risks of curious students or outsiders approaching the Forbidden Forest. "Regarding the warnings and barriers around the Forbidden Forest's edge, and plans to strengthen patrols—"

Professor McGonagall had barely finished speaking when Moody's normal black eye glared at him, and he spoke first in a gruff voice: "Leave the patrols to me. I'll arrange some little surprises"—anti-intrusion spells, warning traps, and memorable magical marks. Let Hagrid and his furry friends roam around a bit more during the day, and at night—"

He picked up the flask and took a swig, his Magic Eye darting around. "Tonight, I'll hand it over to someone who really knows what they're doing. I'll make sure that anyone who wanders off on their own remembers for the rest of their life that you can't just wander into the Hogwarts woods." After he finished speaking, his Magic Eye suddenly turned to Lynch, and then the corner of his mouth turned down, clearly still extremely dissatisfied with the fact that he needed to coordinate with Lynch.

Lynch ignored Moody, his gaze calmly sweeping over everyone present before finally settling on Professor McGonagall.

"The regular security perimeter has been expanded to one mile outside the competition venue. The newly added magical markers have a slight punitive effect, enough to deter ordinary curious individuals." His voice was not loud, but each word was clear and straightforward, without any unnecessary embellishment.

When Crouch asked in a rigid manner whether there were contingency plans for "extremely malicious intrusions," Lynch simply replied, "Hogwarts' ancient defenses are not just for show. There are corresponding 'welcome' rituals for specific types of threats."

The words were somewhat vague, yet carried an undeniable certainty, which made Bagman chuckle twice, while Crouch merely frowned and made a note in the document.

When asked about security, Dumbledore mostly listened, nodding slightly at key points, clearly having entrusted this matter entirely to Lynch and Moody.

As the meeting ended, the chairs scraped against the floor with a soft rustling sound. People rose one after another, whispering about the final details, and filed out of the side hall.

Lynch was the last to leave, his steps unhurried, as if he were just strolling casually, his figure blending into the deepening shadows of the corridor.

The group returned to the now empty Great Hall. Crouch picked up the Goblet of Fire again and moved it to the more prominent stone seat that had been prepared beforehand at the entrance of the hall. The blue-white flames burned in the spacious and tall hall, casting an eerie blue light on the ancient stone walls around them.

Dumbledore stepped forward, raised his wand, and slowly and clearly drew a circle around the ground near the Goblet of Fire.

A thin, shimmering golden coil then appeared, firmly encircling the Goblet of Fire and the stone base in the center. The coil's light flickered a few times, then gradually faded, leaving only a faint, warning ripple of golden threads in the air—the age boundary had been drawn.

After confirming that there were no other urgent matters, the four deans nodded and left, returning to their respective lounges.

Moody is preparing to conduct a night patrol right now.

Professor McGonagall accompanied Crouch and Bagman, who needed to return to the Ministry of Magic that night to handle official business, toward the castle gates. Her voice was clear and slightly tired in the empty hallway, contrasting with Bagman's still excited tone.

Dumbledore then gestured for Madam Maxime and Karkaroff to enter, gently leading them toward the castle gates, clearly intending to personally escort them back to their carriage and boat by the lake.

Before leaving, his self-sunlight seemed to casually sweep across the shadows in the corner of the hallway, where Lynch stood silently, like a sculpture blended into the stone wall.

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment in the dim light. Without a word, Dumbledore turned and accompanied his two guests into the night.

The foyer fell silent again, with only the flame in the Goblet of Fire flickering quietly and making a soft crackling sound.

Lin Qi remained standing in the same spot, as if petrified.

After a moment, Professor McGonagall returned after seeing the officials off. She strode through the foyer, the sound of her high heels clicking on the stone slabs crisp and rhythmic. Her brows were slightly furrowed, clearly still pondering the events of the meeting. She did not notice the figure in the shadows that almost blended into the environment. She went straight up the marble staircase and disappeared around the corner of the next corridor.

Time flowed slowly, and moonlight streamed through the tall stained-glass windows, casting dappled, cold shadows on the stone floor.

The blue light of the Goblet of Fire intertwined with the moonlight, enveloping the foyer in an surreal tranquility.

Suddenly, Lynch, who had been standing as still as a statue, moved almost imperceptibly. He slowly raised his head, and the light seemed to penetrate the thick castle walls as he looked out into the darkness.

Then, he took a step and silently walked out of the castle gate, stepping into the cold night of late October.

The moonlight was cool and pale in the open space in front of the castle, and the waters of the Black Lake in the distance shimmered like scattered silver. On the gravel path leading to the lake, a figure was walking back unhurriedly—it was Dumbledore. But beside Dumbledore was an even taller silhouette, almost reaching the ancient trees in the night—it was Lady Maxime, who had returned.

Lynch's gaze instantly bypassed Dumbledore and locked firmly on the object that Madam Maxime was holding steadily in her hands.

It was a small, but exquisitely crafted black wooden box, its surface seemingly engraved with fine magical patterns, shimmering with an extremely faint, matte luster under the moonlight.

Dumbledore also saw Lynch standing at the junction of shadow and moonlight at the castle gate. He did not stop walking, but his long silver beard fluttered slightly in the night wind.

Mrs. Maxim's gaze also fell on Lynch. Her tall figure cast a long shadow in the moonlight, and her steps were steady.

They didn't speak, but walked steadily towards Lynch's direction in the cool moonlight. The night wind rustled through the forbidden forest, bringing a distant sound and a hint of frost.

Lynch stood at the edge of the huge shadow cast by the castle, watching the chest gradually approach. The silence around him seemed to grow even heavier. Only in the depths of his gazing eyes did something that had been suppressed for a long time seem to be slowly awakening under the cold moonlight.