Chapter 380: Gathering of the Five Schools
A new week arrived, the last week of October. The professors all unconsciously quickened their pace, making time for the upcoming Triwizard Tournament.
Moody's class remained as unsettling as ever. "I can smell the fear in you lot," he said in class. He was about to take turns casting the Dementor's Curse on the students. Moody gazed at the students with his one good eye, his voice low and eerie, "You'll find, the more you try to avoid it, the more danger seeks you out... Yes, it's particularly fond of the scared ones."
As he raised his wand, the young wizards shivered in unison.
Among the entire year, only Harry displayed resistance to the Dementor's curse. "You've got a bit of a Dolores in you! Potter, show them what you've got!" Moody bellowed. He cast the Dementor's curse four times in a row on Harry until he could fully shake off its effects before moving on to the next person.
After class, Ron and Neville supported each other as they left the room. Their experiences were quite similar – under Moody's influence, Ron had performed an exuberant dance while Neville showcased an array of astonishing gymnastic moves.
"Who does he think he is, that madman..." Ron grumbled, rubbing his thigh.
Passing a group of second-year wizards, these young wizards stared at Hermione intently, openly discussing her astonishing performance on the grounds last weekend.
"That flaming phoenix... burned her hair right off..."
Hermione's expression was a mix of joy and embarrassment. "Don't they have anything better to do?" Even while doing homework in the library, she hadn't escaped the various heated gazes. When she declined the signatures of a third group of demanding students, one young wizard huffed discontentedly, "What's she so proud of?"
Hermione said in disbelief, "Am I being proud?"
"You look like you've been hit with the Cheering Charm," Ron said, not without envy. "All smiles and radiant."CHeCk for new stories on no/v/el/bin(.)c0m
"Terrifying, really..." Hermione paused, sighed, and then turned seriously to Harry. "I have to admit, Harry, I'm a bit impressed."
"What are you saying?" Harry asked, baffled.
"Just... feeling sentimental," Hermione said. "Think about it, I've only gained a bit of fame recently, and I already feel a bit floaty. But you've lived three years in that sort of scrutiny without showing any difference."
Harry stuttered, "Well, I don't think fame's all it's cracked up to be... Alright, fine, I'll be honest, sometimes it's not bad."
"Does that include being misunderstood?" Hermione looked deeply into his eyes, asking. Over these past few days, she had experienced the downsides of sudden fame. Only when you became the focus of attention did you truly understand what it was like.
Suddenly, she recalled their second year, when Harry had been suspected of being the Heir of Slytherin due to accidentally speaking Parseltongue, and how many students had avoided him and talked behind his back.
"It's got to do with you lot," Harry said.
Ron shrugged. "You two talking about some weird stuff? Come on, let's find Fred and George. I saw them heading to the owlery, maybe the Aging Potion's ready."
Harry was about to visit Hagrid, and Hermione thought a bit of fresh air would be good. They gathered their things and left the library.
As they passed by the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they saw two goblins emerging from the woods. They were carrying a wild boar between them, heading toward the Beauxbatons' camp. When the goblins spotted Harry, they muttered in a strange language.
"What do you reckon they're saying?" Ron asked.
"No idea, probably just curious," Harry said, looking in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. From his vantage point, he could only see the tall roofs of buildings, with four animal statues on the corners of the eaves. Facing them was a soaring thunderbird, resembling the bronze eagle of Ravenclaw.
"Do you think they'll include thunderbirds in this year's Triwizard tasks?" Ron asked, intrigued.
"Thunderbirds aren't easy to deal with. They're creatures of storms. Not even considering their magical abilities, their flight alone makes them formidable opponents," Hermione said, not particularly optimistically.
The Owlery was a circular stone room situated high up. As they endured the gusts of wind and the smell of owl droppings on the tower stairs, they coincidentally heard the footsteps of the twins descending.
"He can't hide from us forever, and that's no small amount!"
"Indeed, I wonder if sending letters will work. Maybe we should just stuff the letter directly into his hand. He's definitely going to come, isn't he..." George stopped mid-sentence as they rounded a corner, looking astonished at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"How did you lot get here?" Fred asked, his eyes wide.
Ron didn't answer; he stared at the twins. "Who's trying to avoid you?"
"I hope you, my daft little brother, can manage to avoid us," Fred said irritably.
After another half hour, even students wearing cloaks were starting to struggle, shivering in the cold wind.
"How much longer do we have to wait?"
Draco Malfoy complained discontentedly. He discreetly withdrew his wand and inflated a beetle on the ground with a swelling charm, then kicked away the rat-sized beetle. Soon, screams echoed from not far away.
He smirked, then suddenly fixed his gaze on the distant Black Lake, where a whirlpool appeared.
At that moment, Lee Jordan shouted, "Look at the lake!"
Draco made a disdainful noise, squinting to observe carefully. The previously calm lake's center churned up enormous splashes, as if it were a boiling cauldron. Then, a massive mast emerged from the vortex.
It was an oddly-shaped ship, like the wreck of a sunken ship that had been at the bottom of the sea for hundreds of years and was finally salvaged. The ship was full of holes, and its portholes emitted a faint phosphorescence. When the ship docked at the shore, a line of people dressed in thick fur cloaks disembarked. Only the leader was draped in special silver-white fur.
With an upturned goat-like beard, he was tall and thin, with a sunken face, prominent cheekbones, and slightly raised eyebrows that gave him an air of hidden cunning.
"Dumbledore!" the man shouted enthusiastically as he walked up the slope. "My dear old pal, how have you been?"
"Extremely well, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied.
He led them to the Great Hall, where the house-elves had prepared a sumptuous feast.
The gathering brought together students from four schools. When they learned that people from Vagadu were still lost in some remote mountains, Durmstrang's headmaster, Karkaroff, immediately grumbled in dissatisfaction.
"They really know how to make an entrance! Making everyone wait for them! You know, Krum caught a bit of a cold before setting off. I told him, tough it out, you'll have to get used to this in the days ahead..."
"They should be here by Halloween at the latest," Dumbledore said gently. "If your students aren't feeling well, Professor Karkaroff, the Hogwarts Infirmary can assist. Madam Pomfrey is quite professional."
...
At night, the deep blue sky, sprinkled with stars, was shrouded in dark clouds, and the moon was hidden behind thick layers of clouds. A bright lightning bolt streaked across the sky, followed by the rumble of thunder. Cold rain fell steadily.
In the Ancient Runes office, Felix was draped in a woolen cloak, watching a movie with Pigwidgeon nestled beside him. Pigwidgeon stared unblinkingly at the projected images. When it got exciting, it didn't even notice Felix discreetly swiping some Galleons from its grasp.
After finishing the movie, Pigwidgeon climbed into its crib, lying comfortably on the velvet.
"Good night."
"Hoot!"
At the same time, several mountain peaks away, a group of figures stood on a mountaintop, gazing at the majestic Hogwarts Castle.
"Keep going! This storm is nothing. We'll arrive before dawn."
A loud voice said. With a leap from the mountaintop, the person transformed into a tall bird with iron-blue wings, brushing against the steep rock walls as it soared through the valley.
"Whoop!"
Another figure rolled on the ground, transforming into a swift leopard. With a few bounds, it covered over a hundred feet.
Then, a long elephant trunk rose high, attached to a lithe African elephant with wide ears and silver-white tusks. It walked gracefully down a steep brown slope, the sharp stones on the ground as level as pavement for it.
"These little ones are quite spirited. Looks like the training has been effective," an aged, frail voice sounded, and a diminutive witch sat on a flying carpet, grinning broadly.
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