"...Recently, the British Ministry of Magic issued a 'Notice on the Celebration of the Three Hundredth Anniversary of the British Ministry of Magic, Launching the "Always Follow the Ministry of Magic" Thematic Education Campaign.' The notice outlines arrangements and deployments on how to improve cohesion among the Wizarding World community and how to benefit wizards..."
"Next, let's focus on Hogwarts School. It is reported that there have been several personnel changes in the 'Eight-Team Tournament' judging panel recently. Former Auror Alastor Moody has stepped down as safety officer due to health reasons and returned home to recuperate. Mr. William Richard is temporarily taking over the position..."
"Now, it's time for Muggle news. According to the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, there have been several cases of Muggles going missing near Great Hengton recently..."
On the screen, a newscaster in a well-fitted suit was reading the script passionately (but expressionlessly). However, it was clear that the person sitting in front of the TV wasn't interested in the upcoming Muggle news. Molly Weasley was just about to wave her oak magic wand—used as a remote—
"Wait, don't turn it off—"
On his day off, after lunch, while reclining on the sofa for a nap, Mr. Weasley quickly opened his eyes and somewhat vaguely stopped his wife's action.
"You were obviously asleep!"
Mrs. Weasley glared.
"No!!"
Entering middle age, Mr. Weasley, who had already picked up some passive skills, quickly refuted, "I was listening all along... to, to—"
"...You better be."
Mrs. Weasley squinted, put the remote magic wand aside, and sat on the sofa—at this moment, dishes were soaking in the kitchen sink, washing themselves, a wet mop had just run out from the bathroom heading toward the staircase, and a gray dining plate carrying some food ran towards the attic—
A ghoul was kept there; recently it had been too cold, and the creature probably couldn't find much to eat, now it's "thud-thud-thudding" on the water pipes.
A few minutes later, perhaps full, it indeed made no more noise.
"Wait, has the third event of the Eight-Team Tournament started?"
After lying on the sofa daydreaming for a while, Mrs. Weasley suddenly seemed to remember something and quickly sat up. Speaking, she reached for the remote magic wand—she paused, hesitating between today's afternoon Muggle soap opera and the tournament—
By this time, last night's "News on Screen" had long finished rebroadcasting. Mr. Weasley had no opinion on what to watch, as he was already snoring.
Though, this didn't necessarily mean he was truly asleep—
However, after struggling, Mrs. Weasley finally gave up the currently popular Muggle soap opera, deciding to see how Harry was performing in the tournament—
With a wave of her magic wand, the picture on the TV flickered, and soon, a lively scene appeared on the screen, with little wizards in various outfits noisily squeezed together on a circle of high platforms. As Ludo Bagman's voice sounded, the somewhat chaotic crowd finally quieted down—
"...Good afternoon, Hogwarts! Yesterday's TV quiz winners total thirty full names... So, welcome everyone to watch, exclusively sponsored by Olivander's Wand Shop—The Eight-Team Tournament!!!"
Bagman's tone couldn't hide his excitement. He was riding a broomstick, swaying leisurely above the field, his magic wand waving, "When buying a wand, go to Olivander's Wand Shop, with wand sponsorships by Garrick Olivander still in production—"
He ran the ad for about two and a half minutes before Bagman finally took a deep breath and pocketed the cue card with the script.
"So, next, I'm sure everyone can't wait any longer—"
Steering his broom to avoid an "impatient" little wizard's attack, Bagman shouted, shaking his head, "Let me introduce for everyone—" So saying, a blackboard carried by two wizards riding brooms wobbled into view behind Bagman—
"It is clear that this tournament's venue has come to the greatest forbidden area around Hogwarts, the Forbidden Forest—" saying this, Bagman switched the lens facing him, "Behind me is the plan map of this Forbidden Forest. The nine champions will be randomly placed at various points in the Forbidden Forest based on their second event scores—
"Then, they need to find various treasures in the Forbidden Forest to unlock the final trial—"
As he spoke, Bagman seemed to catch his breath, his voice started to become more enthusiastic, "Of course, things certainly won't be as straightforward as I just described; otherwise, how are we to improve viewership? Just kidding, as the champions hunt for treasures, a powerful hunter will also be searching for them in the Forbidden Forest—"
His drawn-out speaking style had viewers hanging on his every word. At the close of the twentieth century, the conservative wizards of the Magic Realm hadn't experienced the next century's viral marketing and hosting style. Bagman, merely by playing coy a couple of times, had Mrs. Weasley pacing in circles in front of the TV—
"The Forbidden Forest? Could it be dangerous? They say a group of English-speaking werewolves lives deep in the Forbidden Forest—"
Mrs. Weasley grabbed her hair, carefully recalling already dead school memories, though, she seemed to remember mostly "urban legends."
"Fake."
Mr. Weasley still hadn't opened his eyes, though he stopped snoring.
"How are you so sure? After all, no one has fully explored the Forbidden Forest—"
"..."
"Wait a minute, what's that expression? Have you been inside?"
"..."
"Hey! Arthur! Tell me—"
"Uh, okay."
Patting Mrs. Weasley's arm that was around his neck, Mr. Weasley finally escaped a chokehold. He rubbed his neck, still feeling a lingering fear, and said, "The Forbidden Forest, well, a lot of people liked going in back then, but not me. You know, I've always been very obedient—"
"Stop with the nonsense!"
"Oh, okay, I did go in once—The Centaurs found Muggle objects falling from the sky in the depths of the forest, something called... a UFO?"
In The Burrow, Mr. Weasley spoke slowly, while in the TV screen, Bagman finally stopped keeping the viewers in suspense. He had already flown to the ground with his board, and the man waved his hand, "Let's welcome William Richard—also known as Mr. Hunter!"
William, sitting next to Dumbledore, stood up, smiling and waving at the cameramen.
"So, Mr. Hunter, do you have anything to say to the Champions?" Bagman turned his head to indicate to William.
Though he wanted to put on a show, William held back in the end. He simply stared at the camera aimed at him, his tone calm, "Are you ready?"
"... That doesn't sound like a greeting to us."
In the waiting area for the Champions, Alexander tightened his fur coat, muttering quietly.
Harry listened, and he didn't think so either. He could even guess who William was speaking to—
Voldemort. It was quite likely that he was also watching this broadcast, maybe even... Harry looked up at the camera in the corner of the ceiling. The lens was dark, emitting a faint red light. He stared at that glimmer as if he was staring directly into Voldemort's scarlet eyes—
...
With a series of dull popping sounds and dazzling light effects, the figures of the nine Champions vanished from the center of the field.
The TV screen went dark, but after a brief wait, the magic carpet with the mounted camera began ascending in height, overlooking the lush, expansive black forest below. It then dived down between the gaps in the branches, the camera following with a violent shake before stabilizing with difficulty.
Harry felt his vision blur, the strong scent of wet earth and decaying leaves quickly filled his nostrils.
In the Scottish Highlands, the cold January air made the boy shiver involuntarily, but immediately, he drew his magic wand and began to watch his surroundings vigilantly.
Tall oaks and twisted willows layered over each other, though it was midday, the forest light was still dim, with only sparse beams managing to escape the dense branches and leaves, slanting down from above.
He heard the powerful sound of water flowing nearby, and further away, a faint, indistinct growl from some creature, but listening carefully, it seemed there was no sound, as if the growl was just his tinnitus.
Harry raised his wrist, looking at a watch given to him by Ministry officials before setting off—it resembled a crude disk with a flashing dot indicating his location and a very simple map of the surroundings, providing no other information.
Was this inspired by that map?
Looking at the dot on the watch, Harry felt it seemed familiar—Marauder's Map? That thing could also show real-time positions.
Harry thought he could still hear Bagman's voice, tiny noises echoing in the open forest, carrying an artificially created tension—
"Ladies and gentlemen! Our Champions have successfully entered the arena! Look, Cedric Diggory landed near the shallows! Our magic carpet is trying to find a better angle! Oh! Yamamoto Senren from the Magic Institute is lucky, landing close to a treasure point..."
Harry held his breath, listening intently to that voice until he had gathered about seventy to eighty percent of the dynamics of the other eight Champions—
Cedric landed by the shallows and was making his way into the Forbidden Forest. Alexander landed on the top of a hill, Krum took a wrong turn and got whipped by the Whomping Willow at an inopportune moment, and Fleur seemed to have fallen into a swamp. He could hear a sense of schadenfreude in Bagman's voice—
"Alright, so where am I now?"
Harry muttered reflexively, then took out the Forbidden Forest map he prepared in advance and the tablet he acquired in the last project.
But the next moment, before Harry could take action, he heard a rapid beeping, coming from the watch on his wrist—