Chapter 360: What Makes a Warrior

Chapter 360: What Makes a Warrior

Felix, Flitwick, Sprout, Snape, and Moody stood together, with Moody leaning on a long staff, engaged in a lively conversation with Flitwick.

"Such a pity Millva didn't come; we're one Head of House short," Flitwick said.

"No need to worry, Professor Flitwick," Moody's deep voice rumbled, "we all agreed in advance. We came here today to join in the festivities. I also want to see how these students perform..."

"Millva is chairing the meeting. Lupin arrived this morning, along with representatives from the school board. It's important to have significant figures present on the school's side," Felix explained concisely, understanding the reasons behind it.

"Is that the Magic Lamp?" Moody inquired, his magical eye swiveling toward Felix, "The future world company's name, I've heard of it. The Daily Prophet practically interviewed everyone in Diagon Alley, asking for their thoughts on that suddenly appearing building."

"Indeed, I've seen it too, along with the Quidditch World Cup's light show. Although it seemed to have been overshadowed by that unexpected parade, I wonder if it was affected?" Sprout added.

"Not really a problem, actually. Lims complained to me about too many orders, unable to keep up, so they had to urgently hire more people," Felix replied with a smile, clearly satisfied with the progress of the Future World Company.

The professors conversed amongst themselves, while Snape remained silent on the sidelines, appearing even more withdrawn than usual. He wore a black robe, arms folded in front of him, a distant observer.

At ten in the morning, the crowd formed a dense mass. Some students sat on the slope, laying out blankets and various foods, as if they were having a picnic, leisurely observing their surroundings.

Felix looked at the professors, "It's about time. Shall we begin? How about"

"We're here to spectate," Flitwick interrupted, "Dumbledore assigned you to handle the training of the champions. Your Pensieve is the most suitable tool. I've already left my own memory eagerly, but I'm no match for Dumbledore. I'm planning to leave the memory of when I won the Dueling Championship that year..."

In the staff room, Professor McGonagall had organized several meetings to discuss the selection and training of the champion candidates. To legitimize Dumbledore's assignment of Felix, McGonagall used the Pensieve to convince the other professors. She recalled the Headmaster's admonition and only briefly explained its purpose. Later, it was Flitwick who voluntarily approached Felix, inquiring about the details and readily agreeing to provide a memory.

Aside from Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Felix himself, none of the other professors had done so. This actually illustrated that everyone held their memories in high regard. Dumbledore's previous concerns weren't unfounded; he didn't want to turn it into a mandatory action.

Felix slightly bowed and stepped forward, using his wand to point at himself. His voice carried far and clear, as though speaking directly into the ears of the students, all of whom could hear him distinctly.

"You should have seen the notice on the bulletin board. Today, we aren't selecting championsthat's the task of the Triwizard Tournament. What we're doing is selecting a group of promising students for special training. It's highly likely that the eventual champion will emerge from among them. Even if not, they will represent the students, welcoming staff and students from the four participating schools and attending exchange activities."New novel chapters are published at novelhall.com

Felix idly twirled his wand, "So, what defines potential and a worthy champion?"

"The Sorting Hat sorts students into the four houses based on their most prominent traits. You might think it would be great if there was a 'Champion Hat'..."

Laughter rippled among the students.

They took a few steps away, "Oh, right," Felix stopped, thoughtfully saying, "I seem to have forgotten to add an age restriction. Actually, students from other years aren't necessary..."

"No need to complicate things, Professor Harp," Moody rasped, simultaneously gripping his staff tightly, "The more forbidden it is, the more people will attempt it. That's the lesson I've learned this week!"

His prosthetic eye swiveled, retracting into its socket, and he pointed his thumb backward. The Weasley twins were craning their necks, gazing at the black door. One of them seemed like he wanted to touch the steps on it.

The other Weasley noticed the professors looking back and hurriedly pulled him away. The two of them revealed identical grins.

"You're testing the students' character; it's a good move. But instead of imposing restrictions that make them resentful, it's better to let them try one by one. That way, they'll realize their own capabilities."

Moody rapped his staff with force, speaking sternly, "Not just anyone can become a champion."

Felix looked at Moody, his gaze lingering slightly, before saying congenially, "You're right, Professor Moody."

They left together, and the students on-site watched as the professors opened the door to classroom seven and walked out one by one. With a "thud," the door closed.

After a few seconds of silence, the students erupted into a flurry of excitement. Their gazes were fixed on the black door, shrouded in the mist and suspended in mid-air. The seven smooth steps that extended upwards seemed to hold an enchanting charm, drawing all their attention.

"Gulp!"

Harry swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

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