October arrived, covering the grounds of Hogwarts with a blanket of red leaves that brought with them a new air that vibrated in every corner of the castle.
Over the past few weeks, Aurelian had watched with curiosity and some amusement as his classmates in all the houses plunged into a frenzy of speculation. In the hallways, theories about how the guest schools would arrive ranged from flying carpets to giant dragon-shaped Portkey, while the older students debated who would be chosen to represent their schools. It was a fun way to pass the time while their own plans progressed in the shadows.
But as with everything, there were always setbacks.
Aurelian felt constant surveillance on the back of his neck. Alastor Moody kept his promise to the letter. Every time Aurelian entered the Great Hall, walked down an empty hallway, or attended Defense classes, he could feel the professor's electric blue eye staring at him with great persistence, looking for cracks, looking for Voldemort under Gaunt's skin. Aurelian had maintained his impeccable attitude and behavior, but the vigilance of the old, paranoid Invoker was an increasing nuisance, like a fly buzzing around your food.
Finally, the day arrived.
The entire school gathered on the front steps, shivering in the cold evening air. Dumbledore waited at the front, gazing at the horizon.
First came Beauxbatons, in a colossal carriage that descended from the sky pulled by a dozen yellow winged horses, landing with a small rumble that shook the ground. From it descended Madame Maxime, a tall woman of imposing elegance, followed by her students dressed in fine blue silk, who were visibly shivering in the Scottish weather.
Shortly thereafter, the Black Lake began to bubble. A whirlpool formed in the center of the dark waters, and slowly, the bow emerged, with tattered sails and a military air, followed by the hull, which looked like a specter resurrected from a shipwreck. The Durmstrang ship docked at the shore, and figures wrapped in heavy furs marched out.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Dumbledore's voice boomed.
That night, the Great Hall was decorated more magnificently than ever. When the huge oak doors swung open, an expectant silence fell over the four tables.
First to enter were the students from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. They advanced with grace. At the head of the group walked a girl with silvery blonde hair who seemed to glow with her own light. Fleur Delacour.
Aurelian watched with a raised eyebrow as the heads of almost all the boys in the hall (and some girls) turned to follow her, their mouths open and their eyes glazed over.
"Veela," Aurelian murmured amusedly to himself, remembering when he participated in the dueling tournament a few years ago. At his side, Hestia and Flora snorted in disdain, clutching Aurelian's arms as if the French girl were about to pounce on him at any moment.
The Beauxbatons people headed toward the Ravenclaw table, where the students hurried to make room for them, bumping into each other.
Shortly after, a rhythmic, heavy sound announced the second arrival.
The Durmstrang Institute students marched in, tapping the floor with wooden sticks, dressed in thick furs and blood-red capes. Igor Karkaroff, with his unctuous smile and yellow teeth, led the march, but quickly all eyes turned to the figure walking beside him.
Viktor Krum.
The world's most famous Seeker walked tall and frowning, ignoring the excited murmurs and pointing fingers.
Karkaroff gestured toward the Slytherin table, and the Durmstrang students headed there.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle straightened up in their seats, trying to look important to attract the attention of the Quidditch star. Draco even prepared to greet him. Viktor Krum walked past Draco without even looking at him. His eyes scanned the Slytherin table until they found what they were looking for.
Krum stopped in front of Aurelian.
The Bulgarian extended a large, calloused hand.
"Lord Gaunt," said Krum, in his deep voice and thick accent. "It's good to see you again."
Aurelian stood up and shook his hand firmly, a warm smile forming on his face.
"Viktor," replied Aurelian. "Welcome to Hogwarts. I hope the journey wasn't too arduous."
The Great Hall watched the interaction with amazement. Aurelian Gaunt knew Viktor Krum?
"The ship was slow, but comfortable," said Viktor, relaxing his sullen expression a little. "It's good to see a familiar face. I wanted to thank you personally. Your Noxum broom flew incredibly well in the final. Gauntcorp does good work."
"I'm glad to hear that. Quality is our priority," Aurelian said softly. Then he gestured to the two girls at his sides. "Allow me to introduce you. These are my fiancées, Hestia and Flora Carrow."
Hestia and Flora looked at him coldly and bowed their heads slightly to Viktor. They barely glanced at him. To them, Krum was just another customer of their boyfriend's.
"It's a pleasure," they said in unison, dryly but politely.
"Ladies," Viktor nodded respectfully. Far from being offended, he was glad they weren't bothering him for autographs; he hated fans.
Viktor and his companions took their seats around Aurelian, pushing an indignant but silent Draco Malfoy to one end of the table. Aurelian and Viktor talked briefly about business and Quidditch.
Finally, when everyone was settled, Dumbledore rose from his seat.
The lights dimmed and the headmaster, with a wave of his wand, revealed an antique wooden chest encrusted with jewels. When he opened it, the famous chalice was revealed, filled to the brim with hypnotically dancing blue-white flames.
"The Goblet of Fire," announced Dumbledore, his voice echoing in the silence. "Those who wish to apply to be champions must write their name and school on a piece of parchment and then throw it into the flames."
Dumbledore looked sternly at the crowd.
"You have twenty-four hours. Tomorrow night, on Halloween, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has deemed most worthy. Remember... once the Goblet chooses you, there is no turning back. It is a binding magical contract, and to prevent minors from giving in to temptation, I will draw an Age Line around the Goblet. No one under the age of seventeen will be able to cross it."
Aurelian watched the blue flames, leaning back in his seat. His eyes met Harry Potter's briefly at the Gryffindor table. It was time to take action.
Getting Harry Potter's name turned out to be disappointingly easy, almost an insult to the complexity of his plan.
Aurelian watched him from the shadow of a column in the main courtyard. Harry was surrounded by a group of first-year Gryffindor students, who looked at him with admiration.
What caught Aurelian's attention was Harry's attitude. This year, the "Boy Who Lived" seemed different. He walked with his chin held higher, his posture was more rigid, and there was a spark of arrogance in his green eyes that hadn't been there before. Perhaps the constant adulation or his new relationship with Sirius Black had gone to his head.
"Sure, guys, one at a time," Harry said with a tone of false modesty, signing a piece of parchment with a quill. "Don't push, I have time for everyone."
When the group dispersed, a small, excited boy tucked the autograph into his back pocket, almost tripping over in his excitement. Aurelian only had to make a subtle movement with his fingers as the boy passed close to him, and the parchment flew gently into his hand.
Aurelian looked at the signature: Harry Potter, written in large, decisive strokes.
"Perfect," he murmured, tucking the paper into his robe. "Enjoy it while you can, Potter."
Night fell over the castle and silence descended on the Great Hall. Aurelian waited until the clock struck three in the morning. Moving like a shadow, he made his way from the dungeons, easily evading the ghosts.
When he reached the Great Hall, the blue and white light of the Goblet of Fire illuminated the place. A few feet from the Goblet, a golden line shone on the floor: Dumbledore's Age Line.
Aurelian stopped in front of her. He could feel the headmaster's magic emanating from the circle. It was powerful and designed to repel anyone who had not lived seventeen solar years. Aging Potions did not work because the line could read the "truth" of time in the body.
"Very good, Albus," Aurelian acknowledged quietly, "But I have something even you don't know about."
Aurelian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His magical core began to spin, pumping power through his channels.
The air around his body visibly distorted. Aurelian used all his magical power, enhancing the "infinite" space barrier between his skin and reality. Mathematically, nothing could touch him. The distance between the Line of Ages and his body became infinite, even though visually they were only a millimeter apart.
Aurelian took a step forward.
The Line of Ages glowed with fury, trying to repel the intruder, trying to push him back or cast a curse of old age on him. But Dumbledore's magic could not find a "target." It slid uselessly through Aurelian's figure, unable to make contact with him.
With a grimace of effort to maintain such a level of spatial distortion against such powerful magic, Aurelian crossed the line. Without wasting any time, he pulled out the piece of parchment with Harry's signature.
Aurelian pointed his pinky finger at the blue flames before tossing the paper and began weaving a Confusion spell that Barty and his father had helped him perfect over the summer.
"Confundus," he whispered, injecting his will into the fire.
The flames turned red for a second, resisting, then returned to their original blue, accepting the new "truth."
Aurelian dropped the paper into the fire. The parchment burned up in a flash.
"Done."
He stepped back, deactivated his magic, and slipped out of the protections without a trace, disappearing back into the darkness.
The next day, the Halloween party was in full swing. The Great Hall was decorated for the occasion, with thousands of candy bats and giant carved pumpkins.
Aurelian sat at the Slytherin table, drinking pumpkin juice with a calmness that contrasted with everyone else's nerves. Viktor Krum sat across from him, stoic as ever.
Dumbledore stood up and the hall fell silent, instantly.
"The moment has come," announced the headmaster. The flames of the Goblet suddenly turned red and a tongue of fire shot out a piece of charred parchment.
"The champion of Durmstrang," Dumbledore read in a powerful voice, "is Viktor Krum!"
The Slytherin table erupted in applause. Aurelian banged on the table in approval as Viktor stood up and walked toward the chamber next door.
Seconds later, the fire roared again.
"The champion from Beauxbatons... It's Fleur Delacour!"
The Ravenclaw table cheered as the beautiful veela stood up, shaking her silver hair.
Finally, the third paper shot out.
"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore paused, smiling proudly at the Hufflepuff table, "is Cedric Diggory!"
A deafening roar filled the hall. Aurelian applauded genuinely, watching his friend smile at him and walk toward the glory he so desired.
"Enjoy it, Cedric," Aurelian thought.
Dumbledore clapped, ready to end the ceremony.
"Excellent! We now have our three champions. But now..."
The Goblet of Fire did not go out, and suddenly the flames, which should have returned to normal, turned a violent red and crackled with a sound like a whip. The entire hall held its breath. Dumbledore frowned, approaching cautiously.
A fourth piece of parchment shot out of the fire, floating gently toward the headmaster's hand.
Dumbledore caught it. He read it, and for a moment, the great wizard seemed speechless.
He looked up, and his normally calm blue eyes scanned the hall until they settled on the Gryffindor table.
"Harry Potter," Dumbledore said in a whisper that the silence amplified.
Then he spoke louder.
"HARRY POTTER!"
Aurelian, from his seat, took a sip from his glass to hide his laughter. The game had begun.
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