[The student representatives from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons will arrive on the evening of October 30th.
Afternoon classes will end half an hour early.]
This was the announcement every wizard saw upon entering the Great Hall that morning.
Only seven days remained.
After the notice was made public, it became obvious that Hogwarts Castle was undergoing a full-scale cleaning in preparation for the visiting schools.
Several grimy portraits were scrubbed spotless, prompting them to shout insults at passing students as if this was their only way to protest their dissatisfaction. Being polished made them feel a little too… un-antique.
The suits of armor lining the corridors were polished to a bright shine by the House-elf. If anyone tried nudging them now, not even a hint of creaking metal could be heard.
This made it much easier for certain students who knew the secret passages to slip around without alerting patrolling professors.
But because of all this…
Argus Filch had become increasingly hysterical. Whenever he spotted a student who forgot to wipe mud from their shoes, he would erupt into furious yelling. Neville Longbottom, perpetually dazed and unlucky, had naturally landed on his blacklist…
...
While most students were busy thinking about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament and the two visiting schools, Draco was focused on improving Goyle's abilities. As his childhood friend, Pansy—along with Hermione, who had come seeking him—became the two he gave special attention to during training.
The main reason, however, was simply that they had asked for it.
Right after the High Inquisitor from the Ministry had left, the two girls had approached Draco together, hands linked and shoulders touching…
"You want to get stronger? Why so suddenly?"
Draco tucked the letter he'd just received into his robes and looked up, puzzled, at the two girls standing before him.
He had never skipped coaching them during Goyle's training just because they were girls. He'd treated them the same as the others. But it was clear Pansy and Hermione were not satisfied with their current rate of improvement, which was why they had come.
Still, Draco was curious about their reason.
Was it really just a desire to grow stronger, or had they run into something they couldn't handle…?
"Sudden? Maybe. Anyway, are you helping us or not?"
Hermione was much more straightforward with Draco than she used to be, though she still lapsed into tsundere moments now and then.
More importantly, she didn't dare say her true reason aloud.
Pansy, on the other hand, had no such hesitation. "It's because we can't help you at all. As much as I hate to admit it, that jerk who dared attack you in class was actually pretty strong."
"Jerk… oh." It took Draco a few seconds to realize who she meant.
If anything, Draco wanted to correct her description of "pretty strong."
He could say for certain that the retired Auror was far more than just "pretty strong"...
Leaving that aside, Draco had more or less figured out why they wanted to become stronger—at least Pansy's reason.
With that thought in mind, Draco began to size up the two girls in front of him, mentally outlining what their individual training plans should look like.
If Pansy had talent in Transfiguration, then Hermione was more of an all-rounder…
Noticing Draco's evaluating gaze, Pansy and Hermione exchanged a look before both straightened up, unwilling to lose to the other and eager to prove their potential.
Of course, their competitive spirit was even stronger than their desire to show talent.
And although this wasn't a real measure of magical aptitude, their eagerness did reveal another kind of potential for growth.
Hmm… Hermione seems to be catching up…
...
Setting aside how Draco planned to train Pansy and the others, the rest of the students were far more invested in the Triwizard Tournament—wondering who would represent Hogwarts and how the selection would take place.
Would it be based on exam scores, or would there be a wizard duel?
Naturally, the ones most excited about all this were the Gryffindors who loved attention and never shied away from a bit of chaos...
"I think you totally deserve to be our school's champion, Harry. If you enter, I'll definitely support you."
"Yeah! Maybe we should ask a professor if they can lower the age requirement. It'd be such a waste otherwise."
"Mhm, exactly."
As the Tournament drew closer, Harry Potter heard comments like these more and more often.
Over the holidays, he had undergone secret training from his godfather and his godfather's companions—training he wasn't allowed to mention to anyone. His strength had clearly improved, and with that came newfound confidence.
Combined with all these flattering voices, Harry couldn't help feeling that he was the best choice to represent Hogwarts—not Cedric.
Thinking this, Harry looked up at the friend sitting across from him as they played wizard chess...
"Ron, do you… also think I should try to be the school's representative?"
"Also?"
Ron, still holding his king, didn't look up. He merely repeated that word—also—silently in his mind.
Harry, eager for approval and support, didn't notice that the eyes of the only friend sitting opposite him had gone utterly still, like unmoving water.
When Ron didn't reply, Harry frowned. "Ron?"
"Huh? Sorry, Harry—what did you say? I got completely distracted by your last move. I couldn't figure out what to do next."
"Really? Am I that good?"
Ron acted as if he had just snapped out of deep concentration. His conflicted expression looked almost like Harry had played a brilliant move.
This made Harry—who normally lost far more than he won—momentarily forget his earlier question.
Or rather, he no longer felt like asking. Even more than that, beneath the smile he forced onto his face, his eyes held a trace of discomfort.
Because the lightning scar on his forehead had begun to throb again...