When Ruskin noticed that Adrian remained completely unmoved by Fleur's charm, she couldn't help but feel somewhat disappointed.
Her reaction was curious, almost as if she had been hoping to witness the spectacle of Adrian showing teenage awkwardness.
But upon reflection, as she watched Adrian continue their conversation with the same steady demeanor he had maintained throughout the evening, this lack of reaction seemed quite normal after all.
Adrian wasn't one of those young wizards whose hormones and inexperience made them easy prey for magical influences, whether intentional or otherwise. He was an experienced and mature wizard who had undoubtedly encountered many forms of magical persuasion in his life and career.
This encounter marked Adrian's first meeting with a witch carrying quarter-Veela blood, and he was quite intrigued from both academic and practical perspectives.
"So, Miss Delacour," Adrian said, leaning forward with the eager attention of someone who had stumbled upon an unexpected research opportunity, "may I ask which specific Veela abilities you've managed to inherit?"
He paused, recognizing that his enthusiasm might be making him overstep social boundaries. "Of course, you're under no obligation to answer if you'd prefer to keep such information private—it's entirely your personal business. I'm simply curious from a theoretical standpoint about how diluted magical creature traits manifest in practice."
A flash of wariness crossed Fleur's eyes. However, she quickly composed herself.
"Only some of them, and only partially developed," She replied briefly. "I believe you may have already experienced the primary one just now, Professor."
"Oh, I was actually wondering about the other abilities," Adrian shook his head and leaned forward even more, asking expectantly. "I was wondering—can you manifest and throw fireballs?"
"Fireballs?" Fleur repeated, clearly taken aback by the unexpected direction of his inquiry. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, and for the first time since removing her veils, she looked genuinely startled.
"Yes, exactly—the ability to conjure and hurl balls of magical fire," Adrian clarified with growing enthusiasm.
"I once had an encounter with a full-blooded Veela during my travels. When I inadvertently angered her—quite by accident, I assure you, she became more bird-like, sprouting what I can only describe as a raptor's head, and then she began hurling these powerful fireballs in my direction."
"I... I cannot do that," Fleur replied slowly, her expression becoming somewhat peculiar as she processed this rather unusual line of questioning.
This was the first time anyone had asked her such a question.
"What a genuine pity," Adrian said with unmistakable disappointment, his shoulders slumping slightly as if he had just learned that a promising research grant had been denied.
Those fireballs he had witnessed, Adrian reflected silently, had possessed considerable destructive power and demonstrated fascinating principles of magical energy manipulation. They would have made for a worthy subject of detailed study.
After the various conversations around the Great Hall had continued for nearly an hour, with the mingling of three school populations creating a constant buzz of excited chatter, Dumbledore finally rose to his feet preparing to address the large gathering.
As soon as the headmaster stood, a wave of silence rippled out from the staff table like stones dropped into still water. Within moments, the entire Great Hall had fallen into expectant quiet, with hundreds of pairs of eyes focused on the tall figure at the head table.
"I believe you all have some idea of what I'm about to announce," Dumbledore began, his voice carrying resounding through the hall without need for magical amplification.
"But before we proceed to the main event," he continued, gesturing toward the two Ministry officials seated at the staff table, "please allow me to introduce two very distinguished guests who have worked tirelessly to make this evening possible."
He paused, allowing the anticipation to build before continuing. "Mr. Barty Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, whose diplomatic efforts have been instrumental in reviving this ancient tradition. And Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, whose expertise in competitive magical events has been irreplaceable in designing the challenges that await our champions."
The Great Hall erupted in applause, though the response was particularly restrained rather than enthusiastic. It was the sort of applause reserved for visiting dignitaries whom one was expected to acknowledge but might not particularly admire.
Ludo Bagman responded to the recognition with typical showmanship, rising from his chair and waving cheerfully with both hands. His ruddy complexion, flushed from good food and perhaps a bit too much wine, made him appear cheerful and approachable.
Barty Crouch's response was distinctly different. He acknowledged the applause with nothing more than a brief, expressionless nod that could barely be called gracious. His meticulously groomed gray hair and robes made him look like a stern banker.
However, not everyone in the Great Hall was participating in even this perfunctory show of respect.
Down at the Gryffindor table, the Weasley twins were conspicuously not clapping. Instead, they sat with their arms crossed, glaring at Ludo Bagman.
Bagman still owed them a significant sum from gambling debts incurred during the Quidditch World Cup, and despite their repeated attempts to collect, he had shown no intention at all of honoring his obligations.
Fred leaned over to whisper harshly in George's ear, "Look at him sitting there like he owns the place. The bloody nerve of the man."
George's response was equally bitter. "If those debt-collecting goblins could get into Hogwarts, he'd be singing a very different tune right about now."
"Over the past several months," Dumbledore continued once the applause had died away, "Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked with dedication to ensure the smooth operation of this revived Triwizard Tournament. Let us thank them properly for their commitment to this historic endeavor."
This prompted a second round of applause, though it was no more enthusiastic than the first.
"They will join me, along with Headmaster Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, to form the panel of five judges responsible for evaluating the champions' performances throughout the competition," Dumbledore announced.
As soon as he finished speaking, excited whispers began to ripple through the students.
"Now then," Dumbledore said, his voice sounding through the excited murmur, "please bring it forward, Mr. Filch."
Filch, who hadn't appeared in quite some time, emerged from an unnoticed corner, with Mrs. Norris following closely at his feet. Of course, no one paid attention to a cat at this moment.
Everyone stared intently at the chest Filch was carrying, it was a large wooden box inlaid with jewels that looked rather ancient.
Adrian knew without doubt that it contained the legendary Goblet of Fire. Professor McGonagall had mentioned during one of their conversations that she and Dumbledore had spent considerable time searching before finally locating this treasure.
Since the last Triwizard Tournament held at Hogwarts had concluded in 1792, the Goblet had been forgotten in some storage room deep within the castle.
"This year's Triwizard Tournament will consist of three tasks, each designed to test different aspects of magical ability, courage, and resourcefulness," Dumbledore explained, his voice taking on the formal tempo. "These challenges will be evaluated by our panel of five judges, each bringing their own expertise and perspective to ensure complete assessment.
I'm certain you're all wondering how we will select our three champions from among the many qualified candidates present here tonight,
The answer lies in.... the Goblet of Fire!"
After Dumbledore's announcement, he gently tapped the jeweled wooden box with his wand.
The hall fell completely silent, even breathing became audible.
"For centuries beyond memory," Dumbledore's words seemed to carry a special magic, "the Goblet of Fire has served as the most impartial and reliable judge in the selection of Triwizard Tournament champions.
Its magic goes far beyond simple name recognition, it possesses the ability to see into the very hearts and souls of candidates, determining with accuracy who truly possesses the essential qualities required of a champion."
As his words faded into silence, the lid of the ancient chest sprang open with a soft click.
Dumbledore waved his wand, and a rather crude wooden goblet floated out from the box.
After the box closed, the wooden goblet settled steadily on its lid.
All eyes were focused on this unremarkable cup.
The next second, a dazzling blue-white flame shot up from the goblet, reaching toward the ceiling before gradually stabilizing and being contained within the cup.
'Very complex magical flames,' Adrian thought as he studied the Goblet with interest.
"Now," Dumbledore announced, "let me explain the most important rules governing champion selection."
The Goblet's blue-white flames provided stagey lighting for his words and serious expression.
"Students wishing to enter their names for consideration should write both their full name and their school clearly on a piece of parchment, then drop it into the Goblet of Fire. You have until tomorrow evening's Halloween feast to submit your candidacy, the Goblet will not accept entries after that deadline has passed."
He paused, allowing this information to settle before continuing in a solemn tone.
"However, I must emphasize in the strongest possible terms that this selection process constitutes a binding magical contract of the most serious nature. Once your name is chosen by the Goblet of Fire, you are magically compelled to complete the entire competition. There can be no withdrawals, no changes of heart, no exceptions for any reason."
The flames seemed to burn brighter as he spoke, as if the Goblet itself were emphasizing the importance of his words.
"Therefore, I strongly urge each of you to consider your decision with the utmost care and seriousness. This is not a game or a casual adventure. Tomorrow evening, at the conclusion of our Halloween feast, the Goblet of Fire will select the three candidates it deems most suitable to serve as champions."
As soon as he finished speaking, Fleur unconsciously straightened her spine with a confident air. The Beauxbatons students exchanged excited glances, while Krum appeared perfectly calm and unmoved.
Even Harry wore a thoughtful expression—perhaps he was considering whether to try entering his name.
Becoming a school's champion was something that would appeal to any young person.
"One final point of critical importance," Dumbledore added. "For safety reasons that I hope are obvious to everyone present, only students who have reached their seventeenth birthday will be eligible to enter their names.
To ensure this restriction is properly enforced, I will personally draw an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire that cannot be crossed by anyone below the required age."
The announcement hit the younger students like a blow to the gut.
"An Age Line?!" Fred suddenly exclaimed, his voice cracking with shock and outrage. His face had gone pale with disappointment. "That means we don't even get a chance to try, doesn't it?"
"Oh yes," Dumbledore replied with what could only be described as merciless cheerfulness. "Your understanding of the situation is entirely correct, gentlemen. The age restriction is absolute and non-negotiable."
The Great Hall immediately erupted in whispers and muttered conversations as students processed this information. Th
In fact, this age restriction had been common knowledge for some time as Professor Flitwick's information pamphlet, distributed weeks earlier, had made the requirements crystal clear. However, knowing about a restriction intellectually and hearing it confirmed officially in such circumstances were entirely different experiences.
Those underage students who had been harboring hopes of participation hadn't spent the intervening time merely lamenting their situation. Many had been researching, experimenting, and preparing various countermeasures designed to circumvent the magical barriers that would soon be put in place.
The Weasley twins were certainly no exception to this trend. They had spent considerable time and effort over the past several weeks working on their solution to the age restriction problem.
Just yesterday, after numerous failed attempts and several minor explosions that had scorched their eyebrows, they had finally completed brewing their Aging Potion using the formula and materials Adrian had provided.
However, despite their successful completion of the complex brewing process, they remained uncertain about whether their creation would actually prove effective against Dumbledore's Age Line.
Still, they had come too far and invested too much effort to abandon their plans now. If there was even a chance that their potion might work, they were determined to attempt it.
Finally, after Dumbledore had announced several additional competition guidelines, and after the visiting delegations had been provided with detailed information about their accommodations and the schedule for the coming days, the historic evening drew to its natural conclusion.
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