Spending time with Tomoyo proved thoroughly enjoyable.
The refined young lady displayed impeccable manners and gentle demeanour, yet wasn't some stiff aristocrat – she possessed typical girlish emotions and even greater curiosity, often posing peculiar questions.
In short, Wayne found himself relaxing completely around her, speaking more freely while time seemed to fly.
Their meal wasn't even finished when afternoon classes were about to begin.
Before stepping out of the suitcase's miniature world, Wayne suddenly thought of a question.
"Tomoyo, I remember your birthday is also in September, just a few days apart from Hermione and Cho's. That would mean... you've just turned sixteen, right?"
After a quick calculation, Wayne deduced the young lady's age.
Since her birthday fell after September, Tomoyo had to attend classes with the fourth-years, forcibly separated from Sakura.
"Mhm, that's right." The young miss nodded. "Why do you ask?"
"Sakura's slightly older than you – her birthday's in April... So you're both sixteen, but this tournament requires participants to be at least seventeen. Can you two even register?"
Wayne asked curiously. He'd recalled this when the age line was first established, but never got around to asking until now.
"So that's what you're worried about." Tomoyo smiled brightly. "The age issue has already been resolved."
"Resolved?" Wayne grew more puzzled. "Don't tell me Mahoutokoro is planning to cheat, too?"
"Too?" Now it was Tomoyo's turn to be confused.
"Never mind." Wayne blinked rapidly. "Quick, tell me – how are you and Sakura planning to cheat?"
"No cheating needed." Tomoyo didn't press further, shaking her head. "Headmaster Koga has already discussed it with the other headmasters. Due to Mahoutokoro's unique circumstances, golden robe students have already met graduation standards. Their capability and safety aren't concerns."
"So, any golden robe student can register directly. Both Sakura and I meet the requirements."
"I see." Wayne sounded somewhat disappointed. He'd been hoping Mahoutokoro might unveil some high-tech solution, but they'd simply pulled strings instead.
Seeing the boy suddenly deflate like a punctured ball, Tomoyo unconsciously narrowed her eyes.
Wayne was truly interesting – just as amusing as Sakura.
...
The two arrived at the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom. Knowing they'd been receiving private tutoring, Hermione said nothing, simply pulling Tomoyo to sit beside her.
As for Wayne, with the two girls huddled together, he naturally had no place there and was shooed over to Toby's side.
Soon, Moody entered.
Seeing the packed classroom, even he showed slightly more seriousness.
With so many international students attending, if his teaching proved inadequate and word spread back to their home countries, where would that leave his reputation?
For this reason, Moody had prepared meticulously, intending to give these students a proper 'warning' in their very first lesson!
RIIIP!
"Bloody hell!"
The expletive escaped uncontrollably, followed by shrieks from the girls.
Moody had torn away half his robes, revealing a chest riddled with scars and festering flesh.
Wayne gaped at him, utterly dumbfounded. This... was even crazier than Barty Crouch Jr!
Sexual harassment in the very first lecture?
"Stop covering your eyes! Look at me!" Moody's roar silenced the class, though the girls still kept their heads bowed and faces hidden.
One more glance might actually make them explode!
"I'll say it once more – everyone, look at me!" Moody bellowed. "If anyone's still not looking in five seconds, leave this classroom and never return to my lessons!"
Under threat of expulsion, the girls finally – reluctantly – opened their eyes, staring at Moody with terrified expressions.
"Here!" He pointed to a large crater on his left chest: "This was left by a Dark Wizard who ambushed me fifteen years ago. A flesh-eating curse that dissolves all the flesh and organs in your body, leaving only a skeleton."
"I ended the fight within a minute, but the scar remained."
The classroom fell completely silent. Students covered their mouths, hearts trembling.
"Here!" Moody pointed to another gruesome scar: "A dagger laced with poison. Any deeper and it would've pierced my heart – instant death."
"And this one – the Phantom Mist Curse, a particularly vicious toxic fog spell that corroded my skin. What you see now is skin transplanted from my thigh."
Moody grinned, making his face even more terrifying: "That leg was gone anyway. Might as well recycle the materials."
"The Severing Charm nearly severed my arm. A puppet did this one – lightest injury, actually, since there was no Dark Magic involved. Spared me considerable suffering."
As Moody recounted the origins of each injury, the young wizards became utterly engrossed, emotions fluctuating with his stories. Gasps erupted intermittently, and during particularly dangerous moments, they unconsciously held their breath for him.
They were equally astonished by Moody's resilience.
Any one or two of these injuries could have killed an ordinary wizard, yet he bore dozens.
"I'm not telling you this to make myself seem heroic." Noticing the worshipful looks in many eyes, Moody said gravely: "I just want you to understand one truth... fighting Dark Wizards is nothing like the duelling games you've played."
"Can anyone summarise what caused most of these injuries?"
A Beauxbatons girl raised her hand high, and Moody called on her.
"Sir, it's Dark Magic. The Dark Wizards used Dark Magic to make the wounds incurable."
Her English was still unsteady, the words halting.
Moody shook his head disappointedly: "Even without Dark Magic, their spells would still have hit me. You just wouldn't see so many scars today."
Then Hermione raised her hand.
"Ambushes! Those Dark Wizards all used ambush tactics!"
"Correct." Moody gestured approvingly for Hermione to sit. The lesson finally reached its core.
"This is what makes Dark Wizards – and Death Eaters – truly terrifying. They're ruthless, without principles. As long as they win, as long as they kill you, they couldn't care less about methods."
"Why did Death Eaters strike such fear in people's hearts?"
Moody's good eye scanned the students, who barely dared to breathe, as he continued in a low voice:
"They used the Imperius Curse without restraint. You couldn't trust anyone – not even your spouse sharing your bed – because you never knew if they'd draw their wand while you slept and hit you with a Killing Curse."
At this image, many faces paled.
"I'll teach you how to recognise schemes, dismantle traps, anticipate ambushes... make the enemy's plots impossible to conceal..."
...
There was no doubt that Moody's lesson had been tremendously successful. Despite his half-naked state, he lectured through the entire double period with almost no students losing focus – all remained utterly absorbed.
Those who'd experienced warfare carried a peculiar magnetism that made people instinctively believe their words and remember them vividly.
After class, everyone still felt unsatisfied.
Due to time constraints, Moody had only covered several common ambush traps and concealment methods. The more exciting content would have to wait for subsequent lessons.
A Koldovstoretz student couldn't help remarking, "Before coming, I heard Hogwarts' Defence Against the Dark Arts was cursed. Clearly rumours can't be trusted – Professor Moody is truly exceptional."
His classmate nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. His standard isn't poor compared to Professor Karkaroff at all."
They were speaking Russian, so other students didn't understand. However, Wayne instinctively glanced their way.
Karkaroff... That name didn't sound particularly Russian at all.
...
In the following days, all Hogwarts professors demonstrated standards surpassing their usual performance. Each lesson was meticulously designed, with professors like Seamus being closely monitored to prevent any mischief.
This earned unanimous praise from the six schools' students, who agreed Hogwarts' teaching quality was truly outstanding, with remarkably skilled teachers.
Even Snape received considerable acclaim, mostly from Mahoutokoro students.
They considered having such a strict teacher utterly delightful, growing more excited the harsher his scolding became, making others view Mahoutokoro students rather strangely.
This period also saw schools mutually gathering intelligence.
Identifying each institution's most likely champion candidates, their magical specialities and strengths, and then relaying this to their own upper-year students.
Eventually, they uncovered a startling fact – Mahoutokoro, Ilvermorny and Beauxbatons' most probable champions were all girls frequently seen around Wayne.
Many couldn't help marvelling at Lawrence's astonishing luck with women and the other schools' disproportionate female dominance.
Had their schools run out of male students? For such a dangerous competition to have female frontrunners...
Particularly, Sakura and Tomoyo – their adorable appearances and relatively young ages made people suspect they might be Mahoutokoro's decoys.
Most perplexing was Uagadou. Their students were intensely secretive, with Transfiguration skills reaching outstanding levels, while Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms remained poor.
Professor McGonagall even suggested Uagadou students might benefit from dropping two year levels – fifth-years studying third-year material being ideal – though the proposal was eventually dropped over concerns it might cause offence.
...
As the month's end approached and selection day drew nearer, everyone grew increasingly restless. Professors had to assign double homework to help young wizards regain composure.
During Charms, Lavender Brown finally couldn't resist pressing about the champion selection criteria.
Other professors had revealed nothing thus far – maintaining mystery seemed instinctive to them.
Only Professor Flitwick's good nature and popularity made students bold enough to raise the question in class.
But today, the usually good-natured man turned into a riddle-speaker, smiling at everyone as he said in his high-pitched voice:
"Knowing everything in advance would spoil the surprise. Isn't it better to wait with anticipation for the big day to arrive?"
Everyone silently complained in their hearts.
Easy for you to say when you already know. We're the ones left itching with curiosity.
"Alright then," Flitwick said, standing on his stack of books and pressing his hands downward. "You'll learn everything tomorrow evening. For now, let's return to our lesson. You must master the Summoning Charm as quickly as possible..."
At last, the evening of the twenty-ninth day arrived.
Everyone had been anticipating nightfall since morning. When the final class ended, they rushed swiftly to the Great Hall, which soon filled with people waiting for Dumbledore to announce the selection process for the champions after dinner.
While eating, Wayne frequently glanced at the empty seat at the staff table.
That seat belonged to Snape. During this afternoon's lesson, he had sensed something oddly discordant about Snape, whose expression had been unusually grave.
He suspected Snape had already begun attempting to fuse with the bloodline—otherwise, he wouldn't have missed such a significant event.
If he succeeded... who knew what changes the Thestral bloodline would bring him.
A flicker of anticipation flashed in Wayne's eyes. He rather hoped Snape would succeed, if only to make the world a bit more interesting.
But if he failed...
Well, he'd visit his grave every year. At least he wouldn't let Snape's burial mound grow taller than his own.
Twenty minutes later, the plates were clean again. Many even clapped cheerfully, their expectant gazes fixed on Dumbledore.
Bang!
Suddenly, the doors of the Great Hall were thrust open from outside, and two figures strode in side by side.
"Just in time! We haven't missed this thrilling moment, have we, Dumbledore?"
Ludo Bagman laughed heartily as he strode towards the staff table, while Crouch remained stern-faced, as though someone here owed him thousands of Galleons.
"You couldn't be more punctual," Dumbledore rose and embraced the enthusiastic Bagman warmly before waving his wand, conjuring two additional chairs at the table.
His voice echoed through the hall.
"Allow me to introduce Mr Barty Crouch—Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr Ludo Bagman—Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."
"Both gentlemen and their departments have contributed immensely to this grand event. Let us give them a round of applause!"
Clap clap clap!
The hall erupted in vigorous applause. The four Headmasters—Fontaine, Koga, Zaka, and Katerina—bowed slightly towards Crouch.
They knew Crouch had played a significant role in securing their participation in the Holy Grail War and regarded him with goodwill.
Crouch acknowledged each with polite nods.
As the applause faded, Dumbledore calmly extended his hand. Between the staff table and the students' tables, a high platform suddenly rose, and the golden Holy Grail materialised mid-air.
He raised his wand, and a golden thread shot towards the Grail, erupting in a dazzling radiance.
Simultaneously, a six-pointed circular magic circle lit up on the ground, drawing astonished murmurs from the students.
"At this very moment, the Holy Grail War has begun."
"And it is the Grail itself that shall choose the champions."
Dumbledore spoke serenely. Though he withdrew his wand, the magic circle remained.
"Those who aspire to become champions may stand within the circle's bounds and, as I did just now, link their magical power to the Grail. A single flash from the Grail signifies successful registration."
His gaze sharpened abruptly. "Before proceeding, I must reiterate: even if you meet the entry conditions, the tournament entails grave risks. Consider your decision carefully."
"For once chosen, you will form a contract with the Grail. You must see the competition through—or face unspeakable horrors."
"Oh yes, you'll also need this." With that, he swirled his wand again, conjuring a faint blue circle that enveloped the magic array.
"This Age Line will prevent underage students from crossing. However, students in golden robes from Mahoutokoro are exempt from this restriction."
"That's not fair," George muttered discontentedly, though his voice was so quiet only those nearby could hear it.
He didn't dare speak louder, as Professor McGonagall had been keeping a close eye on their group.
"Now, I invite the Headmasters and impartial judges to inspect both the Age Line and the condition of the Goblet."
Having said this, Dumbledore took his seat.