A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts-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."

"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.

Ron was about to ask again, but Fred and George each took one of his arms. "You're not escaping us, are you?" They left one after the other, heading away.

"They're definitely hiding something from their family," Ron said, looking at their backs with certainty. "But it looks like someone owes them money." He quickly brushed this thought aside and said with hope, "I wonder how the Aging Potion tastes. I really hope it's better than the Swelling Solution..."

Hermione said coldly, "You haven't given up on that idea, have you?"

"Well, of course, there's also a substantial prize involved."

Back in the common room, Ron groaned, face-down on the table. "The homework this year is too much. McGonagall assigned a paper on Transfiguring hedgehogs, Trelawney wants us to predict next month's horoscopes, Snape's forcing us to research antidotes, he even hinted at poisoning us! Binns always gives us a lot of work, and the Goblin rebellions... who cares about something that happened centuries ago? And Flitwick, he's got three reference books ready for the Summoning Charm. Even Hagrid suggested we observe exploding snapdragons every other day. Did you hear that? He actually wants us to observe things that set their butts on fire. His tone was as if he was talking to obedient little dogs..."

"Think about it, once you become a champion, you can be free of all that," he lifted his head, saying with longing.

Hermione and Harry didn't pay him any mind. He'd feel better after a bit of self-pity. Hermione took out a small book and muttered words to herself, while Harry made a call to Sirius using the Two-Way Mirror.

"I'm fine... the scar doesn't hurt anymore, probably just psychological... Yeah, the other three schools are coming, I really wish you could see... Hi, Kreacher, what? Well, of course, the pendant box would go well with your bald head... Early Happy Halloween to you..."

From the other side of the mirror came Sirius's annoyed voice: "Damn it, Felix won't let me use the fireplace in his office! No one's as fickle as him!"

In the evening, Neville brought back some news – Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were on their way.

...

The delegations from both schools arrived on the same day, almost as if it had been coordinated, with less than an hour's difference.

Having the experience of welcoming the visitors from Beauxbatons, Hogwarts was poised and composed from top to bottom. Even Filch's eyes weren't bulging out as much; it might have been because no young wizard was repeating the same elementary mistake.

The weather had turned cooler by late October. The students gathered on the steps outside the entrance hall, waiting for twenty minutes. Finally, the Beauxbatons delegation appeared in a huge, powder-blue carriage pulled by twelve winged silver horses. The carriage was as large as a house, and the horses carried it gracefully through the air.

The students looked up in awe, and there was a chorus of gasps. With a slightly teeth-grating crash, the carriage touched down. "Cool! A rough landing!" Seamus exclaimed. It wasn't until Madame Maxime stepped out of the carriage, walking down golden steps to the assembled crowd, that he took a sharp breath.

"Merlin, she's tall!"

Dumbledore and the professors led the applause, and then Dumbledore kissed Madame Maxime's hand. After a bit of chit-chat – "Isn't Karkaroff here yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He's running a bit later than expected," Dumbledore said with a smile.

Madame Maxime scoffed softly, muttering something under her breath. The professors at the front and the nearby students could clearly hear her say, "Putting on an act."

"Would you like to wait here to greet him or would you prefer to come inside to warm up?" Dumbledore asked as if he hadn't heard.

"I'll go inside to warm up first," she gave a slight bow and said, "My horses have strong personalities – they need someone with great strength to care for them, and they only drink pure malt whisky."

"Rest assured, our Care of Magical Creatures professor will take good care of them," Dumbledore assured her.

Madame Maxime smiled gracefully and nodded to the professors. When she saw Felix, her smile became more sincere. Then, with authority, she said to the Beauxbatons students, "Follow me."

Hogwarts students made way, watching as she led a group of about twelve students up the steps and into the castle. The Beauxbatons students were dressed in elegant blue silk uniforms, and a few slender girls even had their heads wrapped.

Dumbledore turned to Felix and whispered, "Felix..."

"Leave it to me," Felix replied. He looked towards the carriage, his eyes taking on a silvery-white glow. The group of elephant-sized horses stared with fiery red eyes, then suddenly became completely still. After a moment, they raised horseshoe-sized hooves and walked in the direction of Hagrid's cabin.

"Oh, and the pure malt whisky," Dumbledore said, raising his hand to pluck a note from the thin air. The note fluttered and stuck to the head of the lead silver-maned horse, making a peculiar rustling noise. Professor McGonagall pursed her lips, her expression growing stern.

"Ah, waiting is a bit boring," Dumbledore said. "Felix, do you have any new products in your 'Future World' company? I read in the newspaper that you recently signed a contract with the Weird Sisters..."

"That's for the Wizarding Gramophone. They'll collaborate to record the first batch of albums. I suggest Lymes make the products as compact as possible, and it would be great if they could project magical images. However, we've encountered a few minor issues. I urgently need some valuable advice."

The two of them began discussing, and the professors and students nearby perked up their ears to listen. Soon, the other professors joined in, and time passed bit by bit.

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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