Chapter 563: Feast
"Can you believe it? All the magical schools are here!" Terry exclaimed as they stepped onto the staircase. "I mean—this is incredible, isn't it?"
"I wonder," Michael mused, "what kind of transportation Hogwarts would use if we went to another school for a competition. It’d have to be something extraordinary, right?"
"Probably the Hogwarts Express," Padma deadpanned, walking past them without breaking stride.
"Come on, Padma," Michael groaned. "Where's the fun in that?"
"From their point of view, it might still seem impressive," Wade mused, stroking his chin. "Imagine how cool it’d look."
"I want something even more special," Anthony chimed in. "Steam trains are everywhere. We’ve seen them all."
"What if it were the Sun God’s chariot?" Michael sighed dreamily. "Or the Leviathan of the Abyss—just appear, and everyone would be terrified into submission!"
A soft chuckle echoed through the crowd—no mockery, just genuine amusement, as if someone had been caught off guard by the sheer absurdity of it.
Wade followed the sound of the voice and spotted a group of Slytherin and Ravenclaw students passing by, all chatting casually with one another, their expressions unreadable. He couldn’t tell who’d laughed.
Michael’s face flushed slightly. "Of course," he said quickly, "the real victory comes down to skill—no doubt about that."
As they passed through the Great Hall and entered the castle, the other schools’ students were already seated. The long tables had been extended, stretching far beyond their usual length, easily accommodating everyone.
On either side of the Ravenclaw table sat students from Beauxbatons, the Magic Institute, and Salem. Durmstrang and Kodostoriz occupied seats at the Slytherin table. Ilvermorny and Castrobsche were seated with Gryffindor, while the remaining three schools took up positions at Hufflepuff.
The heads and professors of each school were gathered at the staff table—eleven headmasters in the front row, with two additional rows behind filled with other faculty.
A wave of excited shrieks rippled through the hall as students began removing their scarves and cloaks. Many gasped when they recognized famous faces—Durmstrang’s Quidditch star Viktor Krum, a student from Wagadoo transforming right before their eyes into a cheetah.
And then there was the girl at the Ravenclaw table—a vision of ethereal beauty, her silver hair cascading like a waterfall, shimmering under the candlelight. Several boys stared in stunned silence, utterly mesmerized.
Dumbledore stood at the center of the staff table, a warm smile on his face, watching the students. Gradually, the hall quieted.
"Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, ghosts, and—most especially—our distinguished guests," Dumbledore said with twinkling eyes. "It is with immense joy that I welcome you all to Hogwarts. Now, please, help yourselves to dinner!"
As always, the headmaster’s speech was brief. The moment he finished, the long tables were instantly piled high with food—many dishes unfamiliar, foreign in origin. Wade picked a few dishes he liked, but before he’d even taken a bite, he noticed a persistent gaze lingering on him.
He looked up. Antoine raised his glass in a distant toast. Wade smiled and gave a nod. As he turned back, he was surprised to see that Michael wasn’t gazing dreamily at the silver-haired beauty—Fleur—but was instead focused on slicing a piece of roast meat with quiet precision.
Two figures slipped past the edge of his peripheral vision. Wade glanced over and saw Ludo Bagman from the Ministry of Magic and Barty Crouch entering the castle. They greeted the headmasters, exchanged a few words, then took two empty seats that had been reserved for them.
Behind Bagman, Professor Trelawney—rarely seen in the Great Hall—appeared like a specter, her hollow eyes fixed on the back of his head, her gaze radiating such palpable hatred it seemed almost physical.
Bagman, however, remained unfazed. He calmly cut into a steak and exchanged a few lighthearted remarks with the head of Wagadoo, as if completely unaware of the victims left behind by his gambling scandals.
Wade and the others had waited outside the castle for nearly two hours, starved and restless. Most hadn’t had a chance to speak—too busy devouring the feast.
After they’d eaten their fill, the golden cutlery gleamed anew. Dumbledore stood once more. His eyes swept across every upturned face. The Great Hall fell utterly silent—the candles themselves seemed to stop flickering.
"My dearest friends," he began, voice warm yet commanding, "tonight, we have witnessed something truly historic: the first time in recorded history that eleven great magical schools have gathered under one roof, sharing this celebration."
"At this moment," he declared, "we are part of history."
The hall erupted into thunderous applause. The thought that this very scene would one day be written into the History of Magic—even without their names—sent shivers down the spines of many students.
When the applause died down, Dumbledore began introducing the heads of each school, then Bagman and Crouch. He then outlined the tournament’s structure.
The Triwizard Tournament had lasted seven centuries. This year’s Magic School League carried on some of those traditions—most notably, selecting each school’s champions using the Triwizard Cup, and holding three challenges spread throughout the school year. The exact nature of each task would remain completely confidential until the competition began.
Given that some students enrolled at a young age and that different countries had varying definitions of adulthood, age limits were not enforced. The number of participants also far exceeded previous years.
The rough-hewn wooden cup sat on the table, its blue-white flame flickering and dancing. This was the Triwizard Cup.
"Each school will produce three champions. Any student wishing to compete must write their name and school on a piece of parchment and throw it into the cup. You have twenty-four hours to submit your entry. Tomorrow night—Halloween—the Triwizard Cup will select the three students who best represent each school."
"Finally, I must caution every participant," Dumbledore added, his tone growing serious. "This is not a game. It is not an ordinary House Cup competition. Even though we will have healers from St. Mungo’s on standby and the most elite Aurors guarding the grounds, danger still exists."
"So before you decide to enter, consider the risks carefully. Only when you are absolutely certain, with your heart and mind fully committed, should you place your name in the cup."
"Well," he concluded, "I think it’s time for everyone to head to bed. Good night, all."
The hall filled with the sound of chairs being pulled back as students rose and began filing toward the doors. Conversations erupted in waves.
"Hear that? Three champions per school—anyone could make it!"
"I don’t think we’ve learned enough yet… the old Triwizard Tournaments ended in death too often…"
"I’m going for it—I’m definitely going to be a champion!"
Amid the flowing tide of students, Wade quietly slipped away from the group, moving toward a side corridor where a rarely used classroom stood empty.
Moments later, he heard the soft creak of the door opening.
Antoine stepped in, grinning, and closed the door behind him with a flick of his wand, then cast a silencing spell.
"What are you doing here?" Wade asked. "And how did you even get into Salem Academy?"
(End of Chapter)
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