Dumbledore detailed the tournament rules from the staff table while Kevin worked his way through Hermione's steak. Three champions, one from each school, three dangerous tasks, no withdrawal once selected. Past tournaments had produced fatalities. This was not something to enter lightly.
"The Ministry has introduced new safety measures this year," Dumbledore said. "Bartemius Crouch will elaborate."
Two assistant professors hauled in a two-metre-tall golden pedestal and set it at the centre of the hall. Crouch made his way to the front.
Thunder split the enchanted ceiling. Rain poured down on screaming students before a scarred, battered figure limped in through a side door — magical eye rolling independently in its socket, every step supported by a cane.
Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody. The new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.
He levelled his wand at the ceiling. The storm cut off like a switch had been thrown.
Ron craned forward. "That's Mad-Eye Moody — the Auror. Dad says he put half of Azkaban behind bars single-handed."
Moody hobbled to the side, letting Crouch have the floor. The students watched him pull out a flask, turn away, and take a long pull from it. Whatever was in there, it wasn't Butterbeer.
Kevin watched this with quiet attention. Polyjuice Potion. Had to be. The regular top-up to hold the disguise. This was fake Moody — Bartemius Crouch Junior, unless Kevin was mistaken about everything he knew. And he wasn't.
He needed this impersonator in place. He needed Harry's name in the Goblet. He could identify the man without moving against him. Not yet.
Crouch cleared his throat. "After extensive deliberation — for student safety — the Ministry has ruled that no one under the age of seventeen may enter the Triwizard Tournament."
The hall erupted.
"Why?!"
"That's rubbish!"
"This is a protest!"
Hogwarts students roared. Kevin shouted louder than most. He had a plan, and the age line was in his way.
"Quiet!"
Dumbledore's voice carried the specific quality that ended all argument. The noise died.
"I refuse to accept this," Kevin said anyway, into the silence.
Dumbledore looked at him with the expression of a man who had already identified his headache for the evening.
"Kevin. That will do," Hermione hissed, yanking his sleeve. He sat.
Harry, Ron, and the others weren't surprised. Kevin had talked about entering. And they all knew what he was capable of. If not him, then who?
The crowd settled. Dumbledore flicked his wand. The golden pedestal dissolved from the top down, revealing a rough wooden cup inside — blue-white flames dancing on its rim.
The Goblet of Fire.
"The Ministry's decision stands. Names may be submitted until Thursday evening. But think carefully before you act. Once chosen, you are committed. All the way through."
He let the silence do its work. Unhappy grumbling, but no one openly argued.
"I have a question."
Kevin again.
Dumbledore exhaled through his nose. Public event. "Yes, Kevin."
Kevin stood. "Can you stop someone from submitting a name?"
Silence clamped down over the hall.
He continued before anyone could respond. "The Ministry wants the younger students protected. So do I. I propose I place a barrier around the Goblet. Anyone who can break through my spell is strong enough to be safe in the tasks. Anyone who can't is weaker than I am at under seventeen — therefore unqualified."
He said it without a hint of embarrassment.
"No, Kevin. That is against the rules."
Dumbledore understood exactly what this was. The boy was furious about the age restriction, and he was looking for any angle to circumvent it.
"What's wrong with it? It's a safety measure. Age doesn't equal ability. I'd wager none of the older students from any school could overcome it — including people here who'd call themselves my friends."
Harry and the others stared. He had the skill to back it. That didn't make it any less breathtaking to say out loud.
The hall ignited.
Karkaroff, Durmstrang's headmaster, barked a laugh before Dumbledore could interject. "Hah! Albus, your student is all mouth. Arrogant little show-off."
"Very possibly," Kevin said. "In which case, I'm not qualified to judge your students."
Karkaroff's grin lingered.
"But I can challenge your entire school. If every one of them loses to someone my age, the tournament champion gets to enjoy their victory with the wizarding world quietly laughing. A championship that nobody could stop a student from undermining? Worthless. The tournament itself becomes a joke." He paused. "Or your school refuses — in which case the reputation damage is worse."
No backing down in any direction.
Karkaroff's grin had faded. He didn't know this Kevin Croft. Bluff? Or genuine threat?
Either way, if Durmstrang's finest were publicly bested by an underage Hogwarts student, it would follow them for a decade. Senior Durmstrang students had risen to their feet, staring daggers. How dare this—
Tension coiled through the hall.
Then, from the staff table, Snape picked up his wine and took a slow, satisfied sip. "Let him try," he said pleasantly. "What damage can one student do? Block them or fight them — that's his business. If my Slytherins can't overcome a student in his fourth year, they don't deserve a place in the tournament."
Silence stretched.
Madame Maxime waved it off with elegant indifference. One child couldn't stop her students.
Karkaroff loosened, following her lead. No, Viktor Krum wouldn't be stopped by this.
Dumbledore said nothing for a long moment. He was thinking hard. If he let Kevin loose, the boy might very well collapse the tournament entirely. And if Kevin couldn't participate, no one could. That was leverage the boy had just placed on the table, and he'd known exactly what he was doing when he did it.
"Kevin. That's enough. Keep pushing and nobody enters."
Karkaroff and Madame Maxime exchanged a glance. Was Dumbledore backing the child? Did he genuinely think the barrier would hold?
"Professor," Kevin said, tone shifting slightly, "I won't obstruct the other schools. Just Hogwarts. If our older students can't break through my spell before Thursday, I represent Hogwarts in the tournament."
The senior students erupted.
"Challenges welcome," Kevin added.
"No, Kevin. The Goblet decides. Not you."
"Then there's a simple fix. Let me enter. The Goblet picks whoever it wants."
He let that sit for a moment.
"One more time — disagree? I'll challenge every student and every champion after the tournament's done. They keep their glory. Or they don't."
Post-tournament duels were entirely legal. He wasn't threatening the tournament itself — only what came after.
Dumbledore stood there, calculating. He could see the headlines. The wizarding world's premier competition, undermined by a student spectacle in the aftermath. It didn't bear thinking about.
A pause. Long enough that the hall went very quiet.
"Kevin," Dumbledore said at last, "there is nothing preventing you from placing a barrier around the entry point."
Clear implication: Block whoever you can. But the Ministry's age rule holds. Under seventeen, you're still out.
Kevin smiled.
"One condition," Dumbledore added. "No duelling students. Barriers and shields only."
"Understood."
He sat. The Gryffindor table erupted.
Crouch, from his position near the wall, shrugged inwardly. Three schools' politics were their own problem. If Kevin beat Dumbledore's Age Line and successfully blocked Hogwarts entries? Even Fudge couldn't object to the process. Karkaroff and Madame Maxime? Their students weren't Kevin's target. Their students weren't Kevin's problem.
The students of every school were a different matter. Every one of them was now itching to prove him wrong.
The feast wrapped up in exactly that mood.
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