"How can they do this?!"
"Why set seventeen as the threshold?!"
Astoria and Daphne protested together. By the time the Triwizard Tournament was held next year, there was no way either of them would be seventeen!
That meant the tournament would have nothing to do with them at all. Already being in their third year, they couldn't possibly wait for the next Triwizard Tournament either.
Rhys also could not accept the rule that champions had to be at least seventeen.
With that condition in place, both his and Rowena's students would be barred from competing. His students missing out on experience was one thing—but letting the other two schools snatch the championship was another matter entirely.
Having studied at Hogwarts for many years right now, Rhys knew the level of the sixth- and seventh-years well enough—most of them couldn't even defeat Daphne, a mere second-year. The only particularly outstanding one had already graduated.
In other words, Rhys had no confidence in the current upper-year students at Hogwarts.
Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were most likely in the same state, but once they weren't relying on students personally trained by him and Helga, there would be uncertainty.
One couldn't take chances with something this important. He absolutely could not accept the Triwizard Cup being taken by another school right in front of him. If such a thing happened, it would bring shame upon Helga as well. How could the two of them then face Rowena down in the 'afterlife'?
"The Ministry of Magic and the three participating schools have their concerns. They worry the difficulty of the tasks will be too high and that students might be injured or even killed, so they set the age limit at seventeen and above," Mr. Jamison explained to the three. But this reasoning clearly couldn't convince Rhys.
A thousand years ago had been very different—death was a frequent companion at their side. When it came to matters of life and death, Rhys's threshold was far higher than that of modern wizards. The Ministry and the schools' concerns couldn't serve as a persuasive argument to him.
"This rule isn't very good. The age requirement should be loosened," Rhys said, glancing at Mr. Jamison, hoping he could exert some influence in this matter.
He added, "And for a school to send only one champion—that's rather small-minded."
As he spoke, Rhys's mind opened up further: indeed, why cling to the old rules of the Triwizard Tournament? There didn't have to be only one champion, and the competition didn't need to be limited to just 'three' schools.
"If they want to host a grand tournament, then make it truly grand. Let all the world's prestigious magical schools take part, send more students to compete, and let everyone witness the outstanding young talents of today's wizarding world. Of course, that's just my personal thought." Rhys shared his idea with Mr. Jamison, leaving the latter utterly stunned.
Isn't this a bit too ambitious? But clearly, Lord Slytherin had his own ideas, and Jamison didn't dare refute him to his face.
After a moment's thought, Mr. Jamison could only tell Rhys that he didn't have much sway over the matter, but he would do his best to lobby where he could.
Rhys sighed. If the tournament were truly held in the old Triwizard format, then at the end of the day it was nothing more than an exhibition match—not interesting at all. Whether Daphne and Astoria participated didn't matter; going would only be a waste of time.
Daphne and Astoria didn't catch much of what their father and Rhys discussed toward the end. Both of them were fully immersed in the scene Rhys had painted for them.
Standing before the entire school, defeating the elites chosen from magical schools all around the world—just imagining it felt incredibly cool.
...
While Rhys and Jamison were discussing the Triwizard Tournament that might be held next year, Helga was in a classroom negotiating business with Ministry officials.
"The automated combat puppet you mentioned—how long can it be used?"
"If it's given regular maintenance and upkeep, lasting a hundred years is no problem," Hufflepuff replied with great confidence.
In truth, if she were being completely honest, she believed her puppets could last a thousand years. But she knew the wizards before her would never believe that, so she modestly toned it down.
Even so, a hundred years was a terrifying number.
A whole century! Literally a puppet that could be passed down through three generations—the grandson gone, yet the puppet still standing.
The Ministry officials seated below all exchanged looks, instinctively suspecting that Professor White might be exaggerating.
But just by glancing at their expressions, Helga could tell they were doubting her words. With a grand wave of her hand, she boldly declared that for fifty years after purchase, under all non-deliberate damage, she would guarantee repair or replacement.
The officials: "…"
Saying such a thing might have been a bit impolite, but truly—she didn't look like someone who would live another fifty years.
Still, since she dared to make such a claim, she must have had strong confidence in the quality of her puppets.
In truth, the officials weren't all that concerned with whether Professor White's puppets could truly last a hundred years. As long as they didn't cause any large-scale quality issues before the officials retired, that was good enough.
"You just said the puppet you showed us earlier wasn't even the limit of what you could make? That you could create ones with more complex functions and stronger power?" asked a square-jawed middle-aged witch with curiosity.
"Yes. The puppet I demonstrated in class just now was nothing more than a teaching tool I made casually. If I put real effort into it, I could certainly create far more refined puppets."
"And what about their combat strength?" In the eyes of the middle-aged witch, the puppet shown earlier was already powerful enough. If the official version's combat strength could be pushed even further, that would be truly shocking.
"I believe their combat capabilities would be no less than those of an Auror."
Helga's words set off an uproar among the audience.
Aurors were the Ministry of Magic's top combat force, a crucial pillar of peacekeeping. Each and every Auror was a precious asset to the Ministry. And yet here was this professor claiming that the puppets she made could rival an Auror's combat strength?!
"This answer is astonishing—are you saying you can create combat puppets that can last more than a century, possess combat strength on par with Aurors, and fight automatically without anyone controlling them?" The middle-aged witch repeated Helga's description of the puppets' specifications in a tone full of disbelief.
"Of course," Helga replied calmly.
In her eyes, modern Aurors weren't all that different from ordinary wizards. The only distinction was that the former had richer combat experience—perhaps enough to withstand one more spell from her.
The many wizards present all fell silent at once.
They were forced to confront a question: was this elderly witch simply talking nonsense? But judging by her demonstration in class earlier, it didn't seem entirely unrealistic.
"All right, then. How much would one of these puppets cost?" At last, it was Lucius Malfoy who broke the silence.
From the crowd's reaction, Helga had already discerned their thoughts, so without hesitation she answered: "Three thousand Galleons—that's the starting price."
_______
Read 12 Chapters ahead:
Patreon: HornyFBI