Wait, so, after being chosen as the fourth TriWizard Champion, Harry was immediately asked if he had an older student put his name in for him. So, like, was it actually that easy? Because if it was, you can’t tell me that some broke-ass Slytherin seventh-year didn’t immediately realize this and start raking in the cash. Like damn, they don’t want to be a part of this Insane Danger Stunt Show themselves, but they’ll put basically any scrap of paper you want into that stupid cup for a sickle.
You’re a first-year who can’t cast Wingardium Leviosa yet? Whatever, sure, just pay up. There’s no way you’re going to be chosen against Angelina “Can Probably Crush You With Her Thighs” Johnson, but at least you can tell all your eleven-year-old buddies that you Did A Cool Thing.
You wanna forcibly enter your friend without their consent? Hell no, get that shit out of here. I’m a Slytherin, not a complete bastard. If I’ve hear about you trying this shit again, I’mma curse your butt into the Lake and report you to Flitwick. You might think that’s funny because he’s short, but you will learn, young padawan. You will fear the Flitwick.
You’re a third-year who thinks that becoming the Hogwarts Champion will impress your crush? Okay, into the fiery cup. But also lmfao, have you even seen Cedric “Hottie McDreamy the Hufflepuff” Diggory? Like, hot damn.
You wanna enter your owl? Your cat? Your toad? Go for it, man, that’d be effing hilarious. I would actually pay to see that Tournament.
You’re a fifth-year who genuinely wants to enter the Tournament? Well, okay, but man, I am roomies with Cassius “Wake Up Before Noon At Your Own Risk” Warrington and he’d be grinding you into the floor under the heel of his handmade, Italian, dragon-hide shoes before you even knew what hit you.
You wanna enter… McGonagall? No, no, nonononono. That’s how people effing die, man. Like, she would destroy the competition and it would be glorious to behold and I would cry tears of awe at the sheer beauty of her wrath… but also, I am too young and beautiful to die. She would find us and we would die. Best scenario is she keeps us as pet mice forever.
So after the Weasley twins get their Age Potion issues fixed, a tiny Slytherin first-year girl sidles up to them in the halls and whispers, “You wanna enter the Tournament? Phil can hook you up. But you didn’t hear it from me!” And so the Weasley twins go find Phil, and Phil tells them straight up, “One slip for a sickle, three for two, five for three, and ten for four.”
Fred’s like, “Does entering your name more than once actually do anything?”
Phil, “Don’t know, don’t care.” (It doesn’t, Phil’s checked. He’d charge more if it did.)
And how does Phil get away with entering all these names? He tells all the supervising professors that he’s entering his own name - again and again and again - for a better chance at being selected. Professor Sprout informs him gently that this won’t make a difference and Phil tells her with the wide-eyed innocence of someone running a major scam operation that “Might as well try, Professor! Maybe diligence with pay off in the long run!”
Sprout’s heart melts, and everyone in the know facepalms. Everyone not in the know looks at him with “cheating Slytherin!” expressions and Phil dgaf because he’s got a giant pile of money now, suckers. [Snape noticed something was up, but didn’t care enough to stop it. Moody also noticed, but didn’t do anything. (Barty approves.)]
Entering more names doesn’t help because it’s not a lottery, the Goblet actually chooses, so a person can only really be entered once. It’s probably actually a good thing that Cedric “Tried to have a won Quidditch match made invalid out of fairness” Diggory and Harry “I am confused and I don’t want to be here” Potter were chosen. Because if fourth-year Ravenclaw Travis Collins had been chosen, the Goblet would have spat out all one-hundred and eighty-three scraps of paper with his name on it.
“Kids these days have too much pocket-money,” Phil comments as he comforts his boyfriend, Cassius Warrington, for being passed over in favor of Cedric “Made of Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice” Diggory, and counts the massive pile of money he’s collected. “Kinda wish the fiery cup had picked that kid’s Kneazle, though. That would’ve been awesome.”
[-Inspired by this post by @accio-shitpost-]
