Hogwarts, Quidditch Pitch
The Quidditch pitch was unusually quiet today, with only a handful of young wizards scattered about, barely enough to call a crowd. Normally, when any of the four Houses held training sessions, the stands would be packed with eager spectators. Quidditch, after all, was the wizarding world's favorite sport.
"Hey, Wood, what's going on today? Did everyone suddenly decide to take their O.W.L.s early? The dates don't add up," George, one of Gryffindor's Beaters, said, nudging his team captain with his elbow.
Oliver Wood glanced at him but didn't respond. The sour look on his face, however, made it clear he knew exactly why the stands were empty.
"Just focus on training," Wood said gruffly. "We've got a match against Slytherin in two days. Don't mess this up."
Just then, a cheer erupted from outside the pitch. The few spectators in the stands suddenly grabbed their things and bolted, as if some urgent news had spread like wildfire.
"Well, great," George groaned, clutching his broomstick dramatically. "Not a single soul left to watch us. How am I supposed to find the motivation to train now?"
It wasn't really about the lack of an audience—it was the nagging feeling that everyone else seemed to know something he didn't, and that was driving him mad.
"Seriously, what's going on?" George demanded.
"You mean you don't know?" Fred, standing next to him and looking almost identical, said with a smirk.
George blinked, staring at his twin brother. "You do?"
Fred's grin widened. "Of course I do. Little Angelina just told me."
"Ohhh, little Angelina," George teased, dragging out the words with a mock-jealous glare. He knew Fred had a thing for Angelina Johnson.
Fred's expression turned serious. "Hey, watch it, George. That's my future sister-in-law you're talking about."
"Why not my future sister-in-law?" George shot back.
"Because I'm older," Fred said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Wanna drop your trousers and compare?" George quipped.
"Enough!" Wood barked, cutting off their increasingly ridiculous banter. "Get back to training!"
"Tyrant's on the warpath," George muttered under his breath.
Tyrant Wood. That's what they called him sometimes. To outsiders, Oliver Wood was a nice guy, but when it came to Quidditch—especially Gryffindor Quidditch—he transformed into a relentless taskmaster.
"So, what's actually happening?" George whispered.
"It's the first-ever 'Wizard Cards' tournament," Katie Bell answered, not Fred. Like Angelina, she was one of Gryffindor's Chasers. "It's being held at Hogwarts today."
"Wizard Cards?!" George wailed, as if he'd just missed the chance to ride a dragon. "What did I miss?!"
"No wonder everyone ditched Quidditch," Katie said. "Who's got time for it when there's a Wizard Cards tournament going on?"
Not every young wizard was obsessed with Quidditch, but you'd be hard-pressed to find one who didn't know their way around a deck of Wizard Cards.
"I wanna go," George mumbled.
"Me too," Fred added quietly.
"I said, get back to training!" Wood's roar echoed across the pitch, silencing their complaints.
Hogwarts Castle, The Great Hall
The Great Hall had been transformed. The long House tables were gone, replaced by rows of small desks, each with a stool on either side. The hall was decked out with colorful decorations, and in the center hung a massive banner proclaiming in bold letters: The World's Greatest Wizard Tournament.
Well, almost. In tiny print, tucked between "Wizard" and "Tournament," was the word "Cards." From a distance, it looked like The World's Greatest Wizard Tournament, which was probably the point.
The hall was packed with witches and wizards of all ages, craning their necks to get a better view. The excitement was so palpable that even Professor Dumbledore had shown up, clearly surprised by the turnout. What he'd thought would be a small event, like the Duelling Club, had drawn a massive crowd.
Thankfully, this first-ever Wizard Cards Tournament was just a trial run at Hogwarts. If it had been open to adult wizards, the Great Hall wouldn't have had enough seats to hold everyone.
"I'm Caro," a young man announced from the front of the hall, his voice confident. "Many of you probably know me. A year ago, I was a seventh-year student here at Hogwarts. Now, I'm the head of Witch & Venom Publishing, and it's my honor to be here today."
Caro, one of the event's organizers, was clearly enjoying the spotlight. Meanwhile, Dudley, his partner, was happy to stay in the background and collect his share of the profits. Hosting Wizard Cards tournaments with hefty prize pools was a brilliant way to keep the game popular. As long as they didn't mess it up and kept holding regular events, the money would keep rolling in. They could practically sit back and watch the Galleons pile up.
"And so," Caro continued, raising his voice, "I hereby declare the first-ever World's Greatest Wizard Cards Tournament officially open!"
The crowd of young wizards erupted in cheers.
"Let the matches begin with a draw to determine the pairings!" Caro announced.
"Hey, my dear students," Gilderoy Lockhart called out from the crowd, never one to miss a chance to draw attention. "Did I ever tell you how skilled I am at Wizard Cards? In fact, I'm working on a new book—My Secrets to Mastering Wizard Cards. You'll want to grab a copy to learn all my tricks!"
No event was too big or too small for Lockhart to insert himself into. When it came to stealing the spotlight, he was unmatched. He'd tried to weasel his way into co-hosting the tournament with Witch & Venom Publishing, but Caro—unlike the company's previous head—had shut him down cold. Lockhart wasn't one to give up, though. If he couldn't host, he'd compete.
"No rule says a professor can't join in," Lockhart said with a dramatic flourish, boasting, "My Wizard Cards skills are unbeatable."
And with that, he faced his first opponent.
"Lockhart? No way he's winning," Ron Weasley scoffed. He was in the tournament too, drawn by the grand prize: five hundred Galleons. For any young wizard, that was a fortune, enough to splurge for ages. Caro had originally suggested a thousand-Galleon prize, but Dudley had argued it down to five hundred. For the kids, the difference didn't matter—it was still a massive sum.
"Don't be so sure, Ron," Draco Malfoy said, smirking. He was also competing, not for the money but for the sheer satisfaction of crushing Ron. "Lockhart's deck is actually pretty solid."
Sure enough, Lockhart breezed through his first match with ease.