"Harry, you absolutely have to let me use a Geminio Charm to copy this later!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed with urgency, her hands instinctively reaching toward the wand in her pocket, her eyes glued to the piece of parchment in Sirius Black's hand.
The parchment was covered in notes on spells and their uses, which were crucial for Harry and the others' preparation. An extra copy meant extra security.
Harry took the parchment back from Sirius, smiling and nodding. "No problem at all. We'll find an empty table later, and you can take your time copying it."
"Uh... could you make a copy for me too?" Ron immediately piped up, his voice slightly tentative, clutching his empty non-alcoholic Butterbeer mug. "I'm worried I won't remember everything. It'll be handy to have a copy of the notes to look at whenever."
"Let me take another look at what you've put together, I want to review it carefully." Sirius didn't wait for Hermione to respond, taking the parchment from Harry's hand, his fingers lightly stroking the paper as he looked down and read intently.
"The Undetectable Fire and Water Charm, the Repelling Charm, the Shield Charm..."
He read the spell names aloud as he went, his brow sometimes relaxing, sometimes furrowing, clearly pondering how the spells could be combined and used.
After a good while, he slowly lowered the parchment, a touch of resignation in his voice: "Honestly, I don't have much to add. You've organized this incredibly well, from defense to offense, and even emergency fixes. It covers just about every situation you could run into."
He paused, his finger tapping the edge of the parchment, and his tone grew serious: "If I have to find something to add, it's the practical training methods. For instance, casting a Shield Charm on a teammate while both of you are moving—that's no simple feat. You need to ensure the spell covers them without the magical surge interfering with their movements."
He pointed to a line of notes. "You even wrote here that an unstable Shield Charm could end up hindering your teammate. Have you thought about how you'll solve that problem?"
"That's exactly what we've been worrying about, and we're already discussing a practice plan," Harry quickly replied, sounding relieved. "We're planning to go to an empty classroom after school every day. We'll start by casting on each other from a fixed position, and once we're good at that, we'll try moving and coordinating."
"That's excellent." Sirius raised his fist to his mouth, his voice a little softer, his eyes showing a hint of relief. "Hogwarts having four Champions who can help each other and practice together is much better than going it alone. James and I, back in the day, we certainly didn't have this kind of setup."
A little more time passed.
"Oh, right, it's already been a week," Ron suddenly spoke up, holding the parchment that Hermione had just copied with the Geminio Charm. His gaze was wandering, clearly preoccupied with something else. "Why hasn't the Triwizard Tournament released any new announcements? They haven't even given us the exact date of the first task."
"I'm not sure, either," Harry shrugged, recalling a previous conversation. "Cedric tried asking the judges, and they said the first task was originally planned for the end of the month. It's probably being adjusted because of the extra Champion."
"Actually, that's even better," Hermione immediately interjected, her voice full of optimism. "It gives you more time to prepare. You'll be calmer and better equipped when you face whatever dangerous creature it is. It's much better than being rushed into it."
"Almost forgot what I mentioned earlier," Sirius suddenly straightened his back, his voice instantly regaining its usual energy, his eyes sparkling. "Harry, I'll teach you the Conjunctivitis Curse. That spell is super effective against a dragon; it can temporarily blind it and buy you some time. Once you learn it, you can teach Dylan and the others, and you can all practice together."
As he spoke, he picked up a small spoon from the table and pointed to its handle. "Watch closely: pay attention to the stress in the incantation, and keep your wand tip steady..."
"Yes! That's brilliant!" Harry's eyes lit up, and he nodded immediately, his voice full of anticipation, instinctively leaning forward a bit. "Where should we practice, though? If we use an empty classroom, we might run into other students."
"Let's go to the Shrieking Shack," Sirius said with a smile, his finger lightly tapping the table, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "It's secluded, usually nobody goes there, and it's nice and quiet. Perfect for practicing spells without being bothered."
"The Shrieking Shack?" Ron immediately frowned, almost dropping the parchment in his hand. "I remember Hermione mentioning it before..."
He turned to Hermione, sounding uncertain. "Isn't that the haunted house that was cursed, the one the villagers in Hogsmeade are afraid to go near? I even heard it's the most heavily haunted place in all of England?"
"Oh? It has such a reputation now?" Sirius couldn't help but chuckle, his eyes full of nostalgia, as if remembering a funny story from the past. "I never told you lot about that place?"
Harry ran a quick mental check. Since meeting Sirius, the topic of the Shrieking Shack had definitely never come up, so he shook his head gently: "No... I don't think you have."
Hermione and Ron also nodded, clearly as ignorant as Harry about its history.
"Well, that works out perfectly," Sirius said, a look of remembrance in his eyes and a gentle smile playing on his lips. "When we go to practice, I'll tell you all about the fun times James, Remus, and I had there, and how we used to sneak off to study."
He stood up, picked up his jacket from the chair back, and told the three of them, "Wait here for me, I'm going to buy some more food from Madam Rosmerta. Practicing is hard work, and you'll need a snack later."
With that, he quickly walked to the bar, returning soon after with a paper bag containing a few sandwiches and a small tin of nuts.
The four of them then left the Three Broomsticks together, heading toward the Shrieking Shack.
Just as the Charms class bell rang, Dylan and Neville walked out of the classroom, while Harry and Ron lagged behind.
As they reached the staircase, Neville, who was ahead, suddenly stopped, pointing toward the corner of the corridor. "Huh? Is that Mr. Ollivander? Why would he be at Hogwarts?"
Dylan followed the direction he pointed and saw an elderly man with white hair and round glasses standing at the end of the hall, holding a familiar dark brown wooden case.
It was none other than the proprietor of Ollivanders Wand Shop in Diagon Alley.
Dylan walked over and gave a slight, polite bow. "Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander."
"Good afternoon, Dylan." Ollivander smiled and nodded, his eyes behind the spectacles warm. He looked Dylan up and down and quietly asked, "Are you feeling pressured having to compete in the Triwizard Tournament on your own?"
"I am a little worried, to be honest," Dylan admitted. "This year is a special case, with an extra Champion, so the difficulty of the tasks is sure to be increased accordingly. I'm afraid I haven't prepared enough."
He paused, then changed his tone: "However, apart from the worry, I'm also really looking forward to the competition. No matter the result, I believe all that matters is giving it my absolute best and leaving no regrets."
Such a great chance to grab lots of slaves—I mean, people, and various test subjects.
How could I possibly have any regrets?
"That attitude is excellent," Ollivander said approvingly. He gently patted the wooden case in his hand, then suddenly changed the subject. "By the way, can you guess why I've come to Hogwarts this time? Here's a hint—it has something to do with the Triwizard Tournament."
"Something to do with the Triwizard Tournament?" Dylan raised an eyebrow at that.
The rules clearly stated that the Champions could only bring their wands into the tasks, and as the sole means of casting spells, if a wand failed, the consequences would be unthinkable.
He looked at the familiar dark brown wooden case in Ollivander's hand and quickly found the answer, stating with certainty: "We can only bring our wands into the tasks. They are our most important partners, and absolutely nothing can go wrong with them. You're here to help us check the condition of our wands, aren't you?"
"Precisely, you are very sharp." Ollivander smiled and nodded, lifting his hand to tap the case. "It holds the specialized tools for checking wands. Let's head upstairs now; the Champions from the other schools should be arriving soon. We don't want to keep everyone waiting too long."
Dylan told Neville he'd talk to him later and quickly followed Ollivander, stepping onto the magically moving staircase.
Figures in the portraits lining the staircase peered out, curiously examining Ollivander. The famous wandmaker rarely visited Hogwarts of his own accord.
The two soon arrived at the door of a rather small classroom.
When they pushed the door open, a number of people were already gathered inside.
Dumbledore sat in a plush chair by the window, his long silver beard resting on his chest, speaking quietly with Karkaroff beside him. Ludo Bagman and old Barty Crouch stood near the podium, holding thick folders, seemingly cross-referencing some information.
Even more surprising to Dylan, a familiar figure stood in the corner of the room.
Dressed in eye-catching magenta robes, with a shiny hair clip pinned in her golden curls.
It was Rita Skeeter, the reporter from the Daily Prophet.
She held a Quick-Quotes Quill and was cautiously observing everyone present, clearly hunting for a story.
Ollivander walked straight over to Dumbledore, and the two spoke in hushed tones.
Rita Skeeter, as if she had discovered new land, quickly walked up to Dylan, her face arranged in a professional smile, her voice deliberately sweet: "Dylan, how about I interview you first? I promise to put your story in the most prominent spot in the paper—even longer than Harry's."
"I'm afraid I'm too busy," Dylan replied flatly, without any change in his calm demeanor.
Since Dumbledore had inexplicably roped him into becoming some kind of Youth Representative, Rita had tried to interview him many times, but he had always declined, citing his busy academic schedule.
"Of course, but you're not busy right now, are you?" Rita shrugged, intentionally raising her voice. "Though now isn't the best time for an interview; this is private business, as you know."
Rita winked at Dylan.
"Your charm is growing, rising star of the Wizarding World! Even Mr. Ollivander delayed the wand check just for you."
Seeing Dylan raise an eyebrow, she immediately leaned closer, lowering her voice, but still loud enough for those around to hear: "You don't know, do you? The Headmasters were just arguing over the timing of the inspection."
"One of the Headmasters said that since it gets dark early now, delaying the check would mess up the photo light, and the pictures wouldn't look good. But Headmaster Dumbledore shut him right down, saying, 'It would be wholly inappropriate to make a student miss class for a wand check'—oh, look how perfectly phrased that was; the Headmaster was immediately speechless."
She paused, a flash of slyness in her eyes, then changed the subject: "However, as far as I know, 'The Boy Who Lived' Harry would probably be delighted to miss Potions class. As for which student would genuinely regret missing class... Mr. Rising Star, who do you think it would be? Draco, maybe? After all, Malfoy children have always valued their grades."
Without waiting for Dylan to reply, Rita leaned in even closer, dropping her voice even more: "Honestly, the fact that this year's Triwizard Tournament is so strange, with an extra Champion and the task difficulty so vague, it must be related to some Headmasters' little schemes."
"If you could just reveal a few more details, they might receive quite a few 'friendly greetings' from readers in a couple of days—like letters 'concerned' about their educational philosophy."
"Ms. Skeeter," Dylan gently shook his head, his voice still calm, but carrying an undeniable firmness. "As Mr. Ollivander said, our focus right now is preparing for the competition. Do you really think I would compromise the normal exchange between wizarding schools for such an inconsequential matter?"
His words were firm yet polite, stating his position while subtly guiding the conversation back to the competition itself, giving Rita no further opportunity to pester him.
Rita pouted, clearly not expecting such a sharp refusal. She could only turn away in annoyance, directing her attention to Harry, who had just walked into the classroom.
Watching Rita's disgruntled retreat, Dylan suddenly felt that this would probably be the easiest interview he'd ever faced.
No prying for gossip, no deliberate attempts to goad him into controversial statements.
Even the brief moment of entanglement was decisively blocked, leaving him completely at ease throughout the exchange.
And Rita's appearance struck him as particularly amusing.
She stood on the other side of the classroom, her magenta robes drooping, her usually sparkling eyes now dull, her fingers aimlessly fiddling with her Quick-Quotes Quill.
Her listless appearance reminded him exactly of the "crumple-horned Snorlack who hadn't found any nettles" that Luna had once described, with even the corners of her mouth slightly downturned.
Dylan knew exactly why she was so disappointed.
After all, they had crossed paths a few times. Although he had always pushed her away, she knew that his statements would never be exaggerated.
Any interview involving him would have to be grounded in objective facts, without the sensational speculation and wild guesses that were Rita's trademark style.
These things are for the papers, after all.
Dylan didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention.
While Rita was capable of writing such conventional reports, it would certainly require more time to polish the details, which was far less enjoyable and effortless than writing scandalous gossip.
Thinking this, Dylan suddenly had an idea. He took two steps toward Rita and spoke: "Ms. Skeeter, there's something I think only you might be able to help me with."
"Oh?" Rita immediately stopped fiddling, her drooping shoulders slightly tensing. The Quick-Quotes Quill she had been adjusting immediately stood upright on the parchment, its tip lightly trembling, clearly ready to record.
Her eyes instantly lit up, and she sounded slightly eager: "I'm the most suitable person? I never thought I'd hear such a thing from the lips of the Wizarding World's rising star!"
She leaned forward, her voice full of anticipation: "You're not going to ask for the same boring report as before, are you? Have you changed your mind?"
"Do you want to teach some of the Headmasters a lesson?" She grew even more excited, even starting to egg him on. "Honestly, those little schemes they've been pulling should absolutely be exposed. You don't need to feel guilty at all."
Dylan's face remained impassive, his tone still steady, as if he hadn't heard her encouragement: "Ms. Skeeter, I'd like to ask, how much do you know about Durmstrang Institute? Please note, I'm only asking about the school itself, not involving any other people or events."
"Just the school itself?" The excitement immediately drained from Rita's face, and her eyebrows knitted together. Her fingers subconsciously tapped the desktop as she began to search her mind for relevant information. "The most unique thing about Durmstrang is probably their curriculum."
"Their students can systematically study the Dark Arts, unlike other schools that only teach defense. Also, they never enroll Muggle-born students, which is very unusual for a European wizarding school."
She paused, then added: "Another widely known fact is that they expelled Gellert Grindelwald—the Dark Wizard who almost dominated the magical world—who was supposedly kicked out by the school after his extremist views were exposed while he was a student there."
"However, the school hasn't had much presence over the years; it's been quite quiet," Rita said casually, as if recalling irrelevant old news. "I only recently found out that Viktor Krum is a Durmstrang student while researching for the Triwizard Tournament. I never expected such a low-key school could produce such a famous Quidditch player."
She frowned, thinking for a moment, and then added another point: "If you want to go further back, there are only unconfirmed rumors. For example, their tradition for appointing a Headmaster—there are reports that Durmstrang doesn't look at seniority or ability; whoever kills the previous Headmaster gets to take the position. It sounds like something out of a barbarian's code."
"Thinking about it, Durmstrang is quite mysterious," Rita's curiosity was completely piqued. She took two steps closer, her Quick-Quotes Quill lightly tapping the parchment, her eyes full of scrutiny. "Mr. Hawkwood, I'm increasingly curious—what are you planning to do by suddenly asking about all this?"
"Ms. Skeeter," Dylan didn't answer directly. Instead, he changed the subject, speaking calmly. "I've read your work, Armando Dippet: Master or Moron?"
"Oh? You've actually read that book?" Rita's eyes instantly sparkled, and a look of triumphant satisfaction immediately covered her face, the previous disappointment completely forgotten.
She even subconsciously adjusted the ribbon on her chest, her voice betraying a hint of eagerness: "Mr. Hawkwood, what did you think after reading it? Objectively speaking, that book has quite a bit of depth."
"Objectively speaking, it perfectly fits your usual style," Dylan's tone remained steady, without any exaggeration. "The language is sharp, even bordering on vicious, and there's a strong element of sensationalism between the lines, making it easy to influence the reader's emotions."
"Exactly!" Rita nodded repeatedly, clapping her hands together, clearly very pleased with the assessment. "I want the reader to feel the power of the words right away, not read some bland, boring narrative."
"Furthermore, there's another very important point," Dylan changed the subject again, his gaze resting on the quill in Rita's hand. "Ms. Skeeter, your writing speed is incredibly fast."
"Oh? You even noticed that?" Rita looked surprised, raising an eyebrow, her voice a mix of astonishment and secret pride. "Very few people ever pay attention to that."
read more inpat***
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