Why would the headmistress of Beauxbatons send a letter?
Harry opened the letter with some surprise and began reading.
[Dear Headmaster Potter, It is with great pleasure…]
[…The wizarding world is about to face unprecedented… Wizards need more…]
[…Therefore, Headmaster Karkaroff and I wish to revive the Triwizard Tournament.]
[…]
After a long while, Harry set the letter down.
Though the handwriting was ornate, Madame Maxime's letter was straightforward and to the point. Aside from congratulating Harry on becoming the new Headmaster of Hogwarts at the start, the rest of the letter focused on the current state of the world and the matter of the Triwizard Tournament.
Harry needed to visit the library to look up records about the Triwizard Tournament and, while he was at it, seek Professor McGonagall's opinion.
"Beauxbatons and Durmstrang want to revive the Triwizard Tournament?!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock. "Why—because of those elementals or demons or whatever they are?"
"According to Madame Maxime, they want students to have the strength to protect themselves in these turbulent times," Harry said, handing her the letter. "Not just spend their days eating, drinking, and having fun."
"But… isn't that awfully dangerous?" McGonagall said, her brow furrowing. "I don't disagree with their idea of using this tournament to instill a sense of urgency and help students become stronger, but what if a student dies during the competition? To die not from external dangers but within the school—that's absurd! And it's not like this hasn't happened before in past tournaments."
The Triwizard Tournament, established roughly seven hundred years ago, was a friendly competition between the three largest magical schools in Europe… the kind of "friendly" competition where participants could die. Held every five years, the three schools took turns hosting. However, after centuries of tradition, the tournament was discontinued because too many young witches and wizards had lost their lives. According to the records Harry had dug up, the last Triwizard Tournament took place centuries ago.
"Yes, it's certainly dangerous," Harry nodded. "And we can't deliberately lower the difficulty just because we're afraid of the risks—that would defeat the purpose of the tournament." He continued, "Keep reading, Professor McGonagall. Madame Maxime suggests we could impose several restrictions, such as allowing only students aged seventeen or older—those who are of age—to participate."
"That could work," McGonagall said thoughtfully. "In the past, most of the deaths in the Triwizard Tournament involved underage students. At seventeen, they've at least mastered enough magic and are mentally mature enough."
"We could also hold a preliminary selection tournament at the school to weed out students who aren't skilled enough but want to join for the thrill," Harry added. "Only those who win the selection would be allowed to put their names in the Goblet of Fire. That way, we'd prevent the Goblet from choosing anyone who isn't up to the challenge."
"Good idea," McGonagall agreed.
It wasn't just his imagination—was this the spirit of a true Gryffindor graduate? After her initial concern for the students' safety when she heard the Triwizard Tournament might be revived, McGonagall was now thinking about how to make the tournament a success. She was already getting excited.
In that case…
"There's no need to limit the tournament to just students, is there?" Harry's mind suddenly opened up to a new idea. "Professors could participate too."
"What?" McGonagall's eyes widened. "Headmaster Potter?"
When Old Cat Lady—as some fondly called her—disapproved, she stopped calling him Harry and switched to "Headmaster Potter."
"No need to be surprised, Professor McGonagall. We all know the Statute of Secrecy is on the verge of collapsing. Madame Maxime and Headmaster Karkaroff want to revive this tournament partly because of that concern," Harry said, feeling his ideas flowing freely. "Sooner or later, we'll have to interact with Muggles. The wizarding world can't stay isolated forever."
"Why not make this tournament a public event, something grander and more meaningful?" he continued. "Like the Muggle Olympics. I want the new Triwizard Tournament to be more than just a competition between students. The audience shouldn't just be students or their parents—it should include wizards and even Muggles. The participants shouldn't just be students but also professors from the three schools… maybe even the headmasters!"
McGonagall was speechless, staring at Harry with wide eyes, stunned by his bold vision.
"Headmaster Potter…" she started, hesitating, her expression complex. "But isn't this a bit too sudden? I mean, many wizards might not be able to accept—"
"Don't worry, Professor McGonagall. It's decided," Harry said firmly. "I'll discuss this with Madame Maxime and Headmaster Karkaroff. If they don't agree, we'll just work with the British Ministry of Magic and the Muggle government to host it ourselves."
"But the Board of Governors—"
"I'm the Headmaster, aren't I?"
Faced with Harry's resolute expression, McGonagall opened her mouth to argue but ultimately let out a deep sigh.
"Fine. You're the Headmaster. You call the shots."
And so, the matter was settled—at least on Harry's end. Whether Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would agree to this new vision for the Triwizard Tournament, Harry was determined to host a competition open to the entire world, both wizarding and Muggle. If necessary, he'd rename it the Hogwarts Tournament.
Madame Maxime's letter had sparked a brilliant idea in Harry. Lately, it wasn't just him—Dumbledore, in several conversations, had expressed his concerns about how the wizarding and Muggle worlds could integrate. The Statute of Secrecy wouldn't hold for much longer. In a world with elementals, the difference between Muggles and wizards might not be as significant as it once was. Magic or not, it was all supernatural power in the end.
The process of integration had to ensure neither side felt threatened by the other. It needed to be peaceful, avoiding conflict or war between two societies that had long been separate.
What better way to show the harmless side of wizards than through a school—a place of education filled with children? A competition between students, combined with one between professors, would showcase the wonder of magic to Muggles who were curious or skeptical, while the innocence of children would highlight its harmlessness.
It would also demonstrate the strength of wizards, giving pause to those with malicious intentions before they acted.
It was perfect.
Reviving a centuries-old tradition that had been abandoned was no small feat. Over the years, many had tried and failed to restore the Triwizard Tournament. Harry's vision of a tournament bridging the wizarding and Muggle worlds was even more ambitious, requiring coordination and preparation far beyond the scope of a single headmaster.
The British Ministry of Magic couldn't be avoided.
As for the Ministry… well, Harry wasn't sure how efficient they'd been lately. He only knew that departments like the Auror Office and the Obliviator Headquarters had urgently recruited new Aurors and Hit Wizards, sending them into the field without even completing basic training. They were desperately trying to keep the wizarding world hidden despite the cracks in the system.
Rumor had it that many Ministry employees hadn't had a day off in over two months, working themselves to the bone.
The Ministry's leadership wasn't faring much better. Fudge had resigned. One ordinary morning, he called a press conference with various newspapers, stood there like a corpse, and submitted his resignation. There was no attempt to挽留 him, nor did he retain any position within the Ministry after stepping down as Minister. Fudge had left the Ministry entirely—a rather undignified exit, as he'd essentially been forced out.
Fudge had only become Minister by a stroke of luck, and even then, he'd relied on clinging to Dumbledore's influence to maintain any semblance of authority. But after a series of incidents and, most damningly, his cowardly flight during the Battle of Hogwarts, his orders no longer left his office. No one in the Ministry listened to him anymore, and even the pure-blood families he'd once courted abandoned him.
Still, Fudge had clung to his position for nearly two months before finally resigning.
Since the next election was still some time away and Fudge's departure was irregular, an intense internal competition ensued. Ultimately, Rufus Scrimgeour, former head of the Auror Office, became the new Minister, serving out the remainder of Fudge's term. He'd need to run for election again when the time came.
Harry had seen Scrimgeour's confident demeanor, and it made sense. Fudge's political career was effectively over. Barty Crouch, once a strong contender, was out of the running due to the Sirius Black case. Amelia Susan Bones, the capable head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had been defeated by Scrimgeour and wouldn't recover politically anytime soon. Scrimgeour had every reason to be confident.
"In principle, I don't oppose your plan, Headmaster Potter," Scrimgeour said earnestly, handing Harry a cup of coffee in the Minister's office.
"But will this really allow us to coexist peacefully with Muggles? I mean, aren't we exposing our weaknesses by letting them see us so closely? Won't this tournament make them think we're weak?"
Scrimgeour spoke quickly, his words tumbling out.
"Because we all know that wizards like you, Dumbledore, or… You-Know-Who—exceptionally powerful wizards—are incredibly rare. Maybe two or three in a century."
"For most ordinary wizards, many can barely cast a Levitation Charm without trembling. Their best spells are Apparition or household charms for daily life. Even the weakest Auror would be too much for them to handle—and even within the Ministry, training a competent Auror is no easy task."
Scrimgeour's rapid speech suggested he'd been mulling over these concerns for a long time.
"You're afraid," Harry said calmly, watching the new Minister catch his breath. "You're afraid that if war breaks out, wizards won't be able to defeat Muggles?"
"I'm not!" Scrimgeour snapped instinctively. He glanced at the office door, ensuring they were alone, then sighed deeply. "Alright, fine—I admit it. I'm afraid. But only here, in this room. Once I step outside, I won't admit it."
"I understand," Harry said reassuringly. "You're afraid of Muggle weaponry?"
"…Yes," Scrimgeour admitted, his face slightly pale. "Lately, my Aurors and I have seen how Muggles deal with those elementals."
"They use those weapons called guns to attack the elementals, and those shells—deafening explosions. Even if an elemental occasionally kills a Muggle soldier, it's quickly blown to pieces. The Muggles even collect the elementals' cores. They're truly dead."
"The aggressive elementals are killed outright, while the friendly ones are captured," Scrimgeour said, his voice hollow. "We've sent Aurors to infiltrate the Muggle bases where these elementals are taken. They conduct all sorts of experiments on them."
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