Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 390 Selection Rules
The auditorium was adorned with brand-new candlesticks and torches, and the entire castle was meticulously decorated, even more grand than for Christmas. Brightly colored silk banners hung on the long tables of the academy.
Above the Gryffindor table, a red and gold lion shakes its mane; the Ravenclaw eagle is bronze, its feathers shimmering with blue light; above the Slytherin table, a boa constrictor coils, its green eyes and silver scales exuding an air of nobility.

And there's the fat badger from Hufflepuff.

Four long tables were set up in the middle of the hall. Among the young wizards seated around the tables were many unfamiliar faces. These were all sixth or seventh graders, around 17 years old, from the other three schools.

The young wizard from Beauxbatons sat at the Ravenclaw table, his school uniform dominated by silver. The most eye-catching one was the witch sitting in the front row, with a waterfall of long, shiny silver hair that cascaded down to her waist, shimmering in the candlelight, and a slender waist with a beautiful curve.

"By Merlin! She must be the most beautiful girl in the world! Beauxbatons... what was her name again?"

Simon was completely mesmerized, his eyes practically glued to the screen: "Is Beauxbatons an all-girls school? How come I wasn't born in France? I've even traveled to Paris, so why didn't Beauxbatons send me an acceptance letter?"

Dean agreed repeatedly, and Harry nodded in agreement.

Hermione glanced at the dejected Ginny and nudged Harry with her elbow: "Stop swooning! That girl has Veela blood. Remember what happened at Dartmoor that night? Staring at her too long will affect your brain with magic and make you look ridiculous!"

Harry recalled his performance on the World Cup field and quickly snapped out of it, straightening his back and sitting upright, though he couldn't help glancing at the Ravenclaw table out of the corner of his eye.

Did you guys go to watch this year's World Cup final?

The witch, who was not far away, suddenly turned around, pulled the boy next to her, and gave Harry and the others a bright smile: "Nancy Boot, this is Pickley Grevis, a sixth-year student from Ivermony Longhorn Serpent School. It's nice to meet you."

Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean immediately stopped laughing and joking, wiped the food crumbs from their mouths with napkins, and quickly became serious.

"Harry, Harry Potter."

"Ron Weasley."

“Just call me Seamus. This is Dean Thomas. We’re both from Gryffindor, fourth year…”

Simo was used to gathering information and had a rather outgoing personality, so he didn't mind the awkwardness and restraint of their first meeting and quickly struck up a conversation with the two of them:
"Professor Levent is a graduate of Iphamoni. Compared to the other two schools, we are much closer. You know Professor Levent, right? I heard he is quite famous over there."

"..."

Nancy and Pickley exchanged a smile.

Ilvermorny's students chose to sit at the Gryffindor table. The group of young wizards wore blue and burgundy robes with identical knots tied around their necks, though some tied them crookedly while others tied them into neat triangular shapes.

Durmstrang, known for his dark magic, took his seat at the Slytherin table under the direction of Headmaster Karkaroff. Perhaps because they came from a cold region, these students were all very large, wearing thick fur cloaks that they were reluctant to take off even after returning indoors.

The Slytherin students, however, looked down on these guys, finding their cloaks ugly and a waste of fine animal hides, and disliking the way they examined the magical dome and fiddled with their plates and goblets, thinking them crude and like country bumpkins.

If Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons is the most eye-catching, then Durmstrang is the most attention-grabbing boy in the back row. He has two thick, dark eyebrows and a distinctive hooked nose, and thanks to the Quidditch finals in the summer, he is already a world-renowned Quidditch player.

"My God! That's Viktor Krum! The Bulgarian national team's finder! Bulgaria wouldn't have made it to the final without him! I thought he was already an adult!"

Ron's voice trembled: "So he's still a seventh grader who hasn't graduated yet! He's already a well-known Seeker before he's even graduated! He's bound to have several trophies in the future. Do you think I can get his autograph?"

"..."

Behind the main guest table hung a magnificent velvet curtain embroidered with the Hogwarts crest, featuring four animals clustered together around the letter [H].

The four headmasters and professors took their seats, along with Barty Crouch from the Ministry of Magic. The sudden increase in guests made the previously spacious room feel cramped, and the magical dome was adjusted to simulate a bright, starry night sky, regardless of the gloomy clouds outside.

The brightest ray of silver light shone down from the dome, landing on Dumbledore's robes and illuminating his thick, silvery beard.

The other three principals were equally conspicuous:

Igor Karkarov of Durmstrang was dressed in a magnificent mink robe, smooth and luxurious, clearly very expensive. He was tall and thin, with short gray hair and a goatee on his thin chin, the ends of which curled.

He wasn't very popular with the Hogwarts students, because their headmaster didn't like him much either.

Just now, on the shore of Black Lake, Karkaroff reached out to greet Dumbledore, but the headmaster gave a cold snort.

Principal Gilbert Fontana of Iphamoni was around sixty years old, still in his prime among wizards, with only two tufts of gray hair at his temples, a ruddy complexion, and a loud voice.

Finally, there was Orim Maxim of Beauxbatons, dressed in a long black satin robe and adorned with many magnificent and shimmering eggshell jewelry. She was tall and imposing, comparable to the half-giant Hagrid, and Dumbledore could kiss her hand without even bending down.

But she had a pretty and delicate face, with bright and sparkling eyes, a delicate nose, and long hair combed back and tied into a shiny bun.

“Hagrid is smitten with her, I’m sure of it, Hagrid is absolutely smitten with her!” Professor Flitwick said to Professor Sprout, sitting on the cushion.

As a fellow mixed-blood wizard, Flitwick recognized Ms. Maxim's identity as soon as they met, but he also understood the trouble that this bloodline would bring. Since the person in question had not made it public, he certainly wouldn't cause trouble for others.

But that doesn't stop him from making fun of his colleagues.

In addition, Beauxbatons was accompanied by a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Christine Rozier. Unlike the other headmasters, she did not sit in the central seat but was seated on the right, quietly watching the equally young Muggle Studies professor in front of her, a faint smile in her eyes.

“That’s Miss Rozier.”

Hermione whispered to her companions and new friends, "She's the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Beauxbatons, a friend of Professor Levent, who helped us in Paris last summer. Bastian, my parents, and I all wanted to thank her in person, but she was too busy and didn't have a chance before she left."

Charlie mentioned it to me!

Ron immediately raised his hand and said, "Professor Levent and Miss Rozier met in Romania. She used to be an Auror in Romania, and the professor helped her solve the case of the stolen dragon eggs."

Simo rested his chin on his hand and muttered thoughtfully, "So Durmstrang is the only outsider after all."

"It seems this year's Goblet of Fire has nothing to do with them either." Dean nodded, his expression somber.

"Quiet……"

Professor McGonagall tapped the goblet with a silver spoon. The noisy auditorium fell silent, and some of the students below the stage put on solemn expressions, looking at the wooden goblet placed in front of the head table. The rough-carved wooden goblet looked very old.

Fortunately, there were no spider webs, rat bites, or burn marks. This cup was originally stored in an abandoned warehouse, sealed in a jewel-encrusted box. I don't know how it was found.

The Durmstrang students' eyes burned with fervor. Over the centuries, the Tournament had been held 125 times. Hogwarts had won 63 times, Beauxbatons had won 62 times, while Durmstrang had only reaped humiliation.

This will be their breakthrough!
"All four schools have arrived. The opening ceremony will now begin."

Melvin stood up, placed his wand against his throat, and said, “Headmaster Fontana, my old friend, it’s a pleasure to see you here. Madam Maxim, I missed you last time in Paris, but I’m glad to make up for it today. And Headmaster Karkaroff, I’ve heard so much about you. You are a graduate of Hogwarts, so this is a homecoming.”

The students sitting below the stage were at most three or four years old during the Wizarding Wars and had no idea about the principal's past. Durmstrang's students only knew that their principal was a foreign wizard.

The applause was fairly enthusiastic for the three headmasters from beginning to end, but it became sparse when the staff sent by the Ministry of Magic were introduced.

Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman didn't seem to care much. Crouch was busy holding his wine glass and swirling the liquid inside, while Bagman stared at the students below the stage, his dark eyes shining.

During the last Quidditch World Cup final, he ran the betting himself, attracting people to gamble. A few mischievous goblins placed heavy bets on the Irish team to win, and Bagman set the odds too high, losing most of his fortune.

Fortunately, he had made a lot of money in the past two years thanks to the Magic Mirror Club, so he didn't go bankrupt, but it was still painful to suffer a major setback. So Bagman set his sights on the Goblet of Fire.

He's back to being the bookmaker again, and he's also a member of the tournament committee, serving as the host and referee. Bagman doesn't believe he'll lose money again this time!
"The Flame Cup has a glorious 700-year history. Restarting the tournament is a decision we made together. Iphamoni joins as a new partner, turning the three-way tournament into a four-way tournament, bringing new competition and new vitality."

Melvin's voice echoed in the auditorium: "Given the dangers and casualties of those previous challenges, we have revised the competition rules, developed a more reasonable selection process, and designed safer challenges to ensure the safety of participating students to the greatest extent possible."

He waved his wand at the wooden cup, and instantly blue-white flames burst forth from it, bright and dazzling.

Many students then understood the origin of the name "Goblet of Fire".

"There are two rounds of review. The first is the registration form. The four principals, the four deans, and Professor Rozier from Beauxbatons all have the parchment of the registration form. Every student who wants to participate in the competition must get their approval and obtain the registration form."

"The second challenge is the Goblet of Fire. Applicants must write their name and school name on parchment and throw it into the Goblet of Fire. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the Goblet will select the students who have passed the registration."

Melvin paused briefly, then raised his voice slightly: "The Goblet of Fire is in the foyer, and all students who wish to run can touch it. You have 24 hours to think and act: whether you want to be a rational spectator in the audience or become a warrior in the spotlight."

"No age limit?" a little witch exclaimed from the audience.

The Flame Cup tournament wasn't suddenly discontinued. In order to cope with the heavy casualty rate, the professors of the three schools made efforts, and the age limit for warriors was proposed as early as 300 years ago.

From the initial age of 14 and 15, to 16, and then to 17 in the years before the competition was discontinued, it still couldn't reduce the casualties. The professors from the three schools had no other choice but to stop the competition.

That's why the students in the audience were surprised and asked questions when they heard that there were no age restrictions.

Melvin smiled and said, "The restriction on enrollment is to ensure that you have basic self-defense capabilities. Age is just a relatively intuitive and easy-to-verify indicator. We don't want to use such a lazy, one-size-fits-all approach, so we have set up two levels of review. Only by demonstrating sufficient strength can you gain the professor's approval."

A roar of cheers erupted from the audience: "Long live Professor Levent!"

The principals of other schools in the main seating area smiled. They had brought seventh-grade students with them. If there were no age limit, the number of participating students would be significantly less than that of Hogwarts, but they didn't mind.

While a one-size-fits-all approach is lazy, it's not wrong.

Generally speaking, a 17-year-old wizard is stronger than a 16-year-old. Seventh graders are already at the pinnacle of the entire school. Even if Hogwarts has a few more warriors from the lower grades, they will still be defeated in later competitions.

“How many places are available at each school?” George and Fred asked again, getting up to ask.

"In fact, we did not set a quota for the Goblet of Fire."

Melvin raised his hand to stop the commotion that hadn't yet started, and explained with a smile, "The competition is an elimination format, so don't worry about the format. The final winner will be determined in the subsequent rounds."

……

It was the early hours of the morning, and the night was deep and quiet.

The lights were still on in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. Harry leaned back slightly on his four-poster bed, listening to his roommates' lively discussion.

After the banquet ended, Hogwarts students returned to their dormitories, while students from other schools went back to their vehicles. The magical carriages and cabins, modified with the Unseen Stretching Charm, had ample space to serve as dormitories and lounges.

"Let's sign up together, maybe we can even team up!" Ron shouted, raising his arms.

"I still don't know how to get the professor's approval," Harry sighed.

“I know,” Neville said weakly.

"How did you know?!" All eyes in the dormitory turned to them.

"The professor started preparing from the beginning of the semester. In the second week of Potions class, I knocked over the cauldron, and Snape punished me with detention. Professor Sprout took me to set up the challenge."

Neville muttered under his breath, "It's the original third-floor corridor. The space under that trapdoor is no longer a series of interconnected rooms; it's been converted into individual rooms. Professor Sprout moved half of the second and third greenhouses there, and the registration parchment is kept inside."

"The other deans should be the same."

The boys' breathing quickened, they exchanged glances, and their faces showed the same expression.

"Night tour!"

"Now!"

(End of this chapter)