Lunch in the Great Hall passed just as quickly and unnoticed, and afterwards, about half of the students settled on the benches in the Entrance Hall, continuing to go about their business while watching the proceedings. The youngest ones, by the way, were the most active of all—either running around or finding some games like Gobstones or card games with special effects; in short, they made quite a noise. The older ones behaved much more sedately.
The stream of those wishing to throw their name in increased, both among those who met the requirements and those trying to somehow outsmart the line. A third-year from Gryffindor—a wiry photography enthusiast, Colin Creevey—turned out to be the most resourceful. He simply levitated his crumpled piece of paper with a spell over the almost invisible hemisphere of the Age Line and released it. Everyone held their breath; silence reigned. Missed.
"Aww, come o-o-on!" indignant voices of various tones filled the hall, but quickly died down—the boy was in no hurry to give up.
It took him six attempts to correctly calculate how to hit the not-very-large Goblet with the piece of paper simply by dropping it from above—either it just wasn't over it, or it deviated slightly. But in the end, the piece of paper with his name fell into the Goblet, the flame flared up slightly, increasing in size, just like when accepting a name. The students burst into congratulations, but the Goblet spat out this piece of paper at that very moment, singing it slightly.
"The idea itself isn't bad," I nodded, and the others agreed with me.
Closer to dinner, the guys and I finished all our homework simply because there wasn't much else to do. A couple of times we left the hall for a walk or for some other reason, but invariably returned. During the observation, I was already forming a theory about how to properly bypass the restrictions. Returning to our seats after the last walk, I noticed Hermione among the other students, sitting in the front row—she was reading some large book and looked very busy. Actually, as always.
"What did we miss?" I turned to a third-year from our house who was sitting with friends a row below us.
"Oh, Gryffindor guys were throwing names."
"Many?"
"Yeah, almost the entire seventh year."
"I see..."
A group of guys from Ravenclaw, fifth years, approached the Goblet, and one of them, holding a piece of paper in his hands, boldly crossed the line. A moment, and with the same flash and sound, he flew out of there, beginning to grow gray hair and a beard. Chuckles rang out again, but the guy broke the mold for everyone—in this form, he headed towards the Goblet again and crossed the line again. Of course, everyone froze in anticipation of a miracle—no one had thought of this yet. But, contrary to hopes, he was thrown out of the line again, and his beard and hair became so long that he had to gather them from the floor to be able to move.
The comrades of this daredevil, not hiding their amusement, approached and helped him, patting him on the back a couple of times, which clearly caused a number of unpleasant impressions.
"Well I never..." he grumbled demonstratively. "What kind of youth has come. Oh, if I were a hundred years younger, I would give you..."
The guy shook his fist and, accompanied by the laughter of many, left with his comrades towards the main tower.
Almost at the same moment, a happy noisy crowd of our seventh-years practically dragged a sluggishly resisting and laughing Cedric to the Goblet, pushing him. Of course, ours immediately cheered on the prefect—the universal favorite of the house. However, I had a need to check something.
"Cedric!" I called out to the prefect and quickly descended from our upper rows of benches. "Wait a second."
"Yes?"
"I'm collecting information here, developing a method to successfully bypass the restrictions. Can you help?"
"Hmm, sure, no problem," he nodded with a smile, and his classmates approached us to listen.
"In short, to test some theories, can you throw a piece of paper without crossing the line?"
"I can, but why?"
"Some tried here already, who were younger and couldn't do it. The paper successfully passed the line, but the Goblet spat it out. I want to check if it spits out the paper of someone who meets the conditions?"
"Let me do it instead," Herbert stepped forward. "I'm seventeen, and I'm a goof in magic both in practice and in knowledge, so if I throw it in, the Goblet definitely won't choose me. And if I don't throw it in... What if it affects the attempt? Let's not spoil Cedric's chance."
"Yes..." the others standing nearby nodded in agreement, and I hadn't thought about it from that angle either.
"Sorry, didn't think of that. You're right, Herbert, better to play it safe."
Our Keeper quickly wrote his name on the parchment, tore off a piece, crumpled it into a neat ball, took out his wand, and with the help of Wingardium Leviosa levitated the ball over the protective dome, directly above the Goblet.
"Recording what's happening?"
"Thoroughly," I smiled.
"Releasing."
Herbert interrupted the spell, and the paper ball fell precisely into the Goblet. The flame intensified, but a second later spat out the charred ball.
"Didn't work," Herbert shrugged.
"Are you seventeen? Just for data accuracy."
"I am seventeen," Herbert raised his hands to the sky. "What injustice!"
"Stop fooling around," his classmates pushed him.
"Okay, guys, thanks for the help. I'm ninety-five percent sure I know how to bypass all this fun and throw a name into the Goblet."
"Will you participate?" Cedric asked, keeping a polite smile on his face.
"Nah, screw it," I waved it off. "Fame isn't eternal, you can't earn all the money, and it's not a fact that I won't die there, or get some dull injury. Or scars all over the ass that so craved adventure."
The guys laughed at the simple joke, and Cedric crossed the line and threw his name into the Goblet—everything worked as it should.
We moved away to those benches where there was the highest concentration of students from our house.
"And what will you do?" asked Cedric, while the others began to discuss something animatedly.
"Well, someone has to test my theory."
"From ours, I'm sure no one will go."
"I know. Everyone is for you," I nodded, looking out for a potential victim. "And those who aren't for you don't have other candidates to offer."
"But you could participate. Perhaps even the Goblet would choose you."
"Unlikely. I still don't know too much."
"But you beat Romanova, and she's the best in Durmstrang."
"How do you know?" I smiled. "Does the prefect have eyes and ears everywhere? And I didn't win. Draw."
"Well, how else," Cedric also began to examine the hall. "Connections—are needed everywhere."
"Right. Maybe she is the best in duels, or something else, but there are a bunch of other aspects."
"Don't deny it. You would have won if you had laid out all your trumps, right?"
"Who knows... Who knows... Oh, Weasley. Ron! Ronald Weasley!!!"
I had to shout for the redhead to hear me—he was trying to settle on a bench at the other end of the hall with Harry. Seeing that this couple of inseparable friends saw me, I waved my hand to them, like: "Come here." They exchanged glances, shrugged, and moved towards me. Hermione didn't leave this unattended—I saw it out of the corner of my eye—and also hurried to approach.
"Hi, guys," I smiled. "How are things, how's life?"
"Hi," they nodded, but Ron spoke, since I called him. "Not bad, but could be better."
"You speak correctly," I smiled. "Anyway, folks. There is a proposal."
"Just don't tell me," Hermione began sadly, "that you also want to try to bypass Dumbledore's Age Line. Maybe you want to participate in the Tournament too?"
"No, Mione," I smiled sincerely at my sister, and Cedric shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I just want to bypass the protection and check my theories, but I don't want to participate. I don't even want to allow the possibility of such a thing."
"That's right," my sister nodded, and with one hand fixed a couple of strands, which, by the way, look like a quite pleasant hairstyle. "People often died in the Tournament..."
"Oh, not again," Ron rolled his eyes. "Dumbledore said that maximum measures were taken so that no one dies. Well, injuries can always be obtained, even just walking on our damn stairs..."
"We regrow arms and legs with magic," Cedric nodded. "The rest—is nonsense."
Hermione clearly disagreed, but did not argue with Cedric—at least someone is an authority for her among schoolchildren.
"Anyway, guys..."
The Weasley twins didn't let me finish. They burst into the hall with a crash.
"We did it!" they shouted simultaneously, congratulating each other with a smile, spinning, dancing, moving towards the Goblet.
The students met them with general approval, and some even applauded. Only rare Slytherins either ignored or nodded to some of their thoughts. By the way, Slytherins are absent here almost entirely. Surely found something to do or declared a silent boycott of the event organized by Dumbledore—they do not harbor love for the Headmaster, but I suspect that this is the influence of parents. I think this is quite logical—if you believe various chronicles and sources, they had a very strong "falling out" at one time, between the Headmaster and fanatics or simply adherents of the radical Blood Purity movement.
The twins, with the approval of the majority of students, finally reached the Goblet. I decided that it was worth watching their attempt, and then voicing the idea to Ron.
"So, brother George..."
"Yes, brother Fred?"
"Ready?"
Both twins stood opposite each other and held vials with some extremely diluted potion in their hands.
"Ready."
"Well," they said simultaneously. "Let's go!"
The twins immediately drank the potion bottoms up. For a couple of seconds nothing happened, nor did it happen after—they only shuddered.
"Did it work?" asked one.
"No idea."
"Let's try."
They stood at the very border of the line, and just jumped over it simultaneously. Standing, examining themselves—everything is great.
"Did they really succeed?" Ron and Harry watched this with all their eyes.
"I don't think so," Hermione shook her head.
"There is a chance," Cedric nodded with a smile.
And the twins are not thrown out of the line and not thrown out. Noticing movement at the doors to the hall leading to the passage to another room, behind which was the entrance to the castle, I turned there. Dumbledore stood and watched what was happening with interest. Headmaster Karkaroff and Madame Maxime were also there. It seems students from other schools are there too.
"Take out parchment and write your name, Ron," I spoke quietly, addressing Weasley. "And you, Harry, if you want. Time is short."
The guys nodded sluggishly, only they didn't have anything with them. I quickly took out parchment, a quill, and an inkwell from my backpack.
"Quickly."
Meanwhile, the twins were dancing by the Goblet. Having rejoiced enough, they took out pieces of paper with their names and were about to throw them into the Goblet, but a flash sparkled, banged, and they were thrown out of the line. General disappointment literally swept through the hall, and the rapidly graying and aging twins staged a playful fight, rolling on the floor and pulling each other by the beard.
"I told you, stupid old man..."
"No, I said it... Oh, damn... My back aches..."
"Serves you right... Oh... knees..."
They looked not very good at all—old men are old men. Wonder what I will be like in old age? Never thought about it. However, this magic ages exactly as the student would look, and not according to some template—each resulting "old man" was unique and the students subjected to magic were really recognizable in them. Considering everything I've done with my body, I wonder what will happen in old age.
"I warned you," Dumbledore said quietly, coming out to the Goblet in the company of other Headmasters.
Amusement was read in his eyes, as in many present.
"Go to Madam Pomfrey. Many old men have already gathered there, but, to be honest, your beards are the most outstanding. And don't worry—this magic is easily and quickly cured."
The twins really had outstanding beards—perhaps only theirs grew in all directions, without any specific direction.
"And I wonder what I will look like in old age," I declared quite loudly and headed to the line.
"Hector!" Hermione was indignant, but did nothing.
Dumbledore and other Headmasters, who decided to spend the rest of the time until dinner watching those who risk throwing their name into the Goblet, looked at me with interest. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students had already entered the hall doors and moved towards the Goblet, but stopped, waiting for their turn, or at least creating the appearance of such.
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