or How Hogwarts Accidentally Turned the Goblet of Fire into a Dating App

It all started—like all disasters do—with Dumbledore’s declaration of progress.

The Great Hall was already buzzing with excitement over the revival of the Triwizard Tournament. Students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had arrived the night before, and everyone expected dragons, near-death experiences, and maybe someone catching on fire again (everyone side-eyed the Gryffindor table at that).

But Dumbledore had other ideas.

“This year,” he announced, rising to his full dramatic height, his voice echoing magically across the enchanted ceiling, “we are trying something different.”

A beat.