A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts-Chapter 395: Approaching

"Whoosh~"

The golden thief extended its long wings in Harry's hand and disappeared in a flash under their gaze.

The three of them looked around anxiously. "There!" Harry pointed above Ron's head. A Disarming Charm shot out but missed. Hermione and Ron hurriedly chanted spells, and two red lights vanished into the sky.

"You're still far from catching it," Sirius said, arms folded, with a smug grin.

Harry gave his godfather a disgruntled look. "Then you give it a try."

Sirius flicked his wand silently. Several leaves from the pumpkin vines shot out like swords. The golden thief trembled slightly and dodged them. Sirius pouted in embarrassment.

"I refuse to believe—"

He joined the trio. They occupied the four corners, tilting their heads back, casting spells at the sky. The golden thief remained within a small area, constantly dodging like an agile ghost. Occasionally, they got lucky and hit it. A palm-sized transparent shield would appear on its surface, refracting colorful hues in the pale sky, blocking the spells.

The four of them played with high spirits until they saw three tall figures emerging from the Forbidden Forest in the distance. They were the champions of Durmstrang.

They pointed and gestured towards Harry's group, speaking in an awkward accent. The words weren't clear initially, but gradually, they could make out phrases like "cheating... fake champions..." This soured their mood.

"Ignore them. Once you defeat them in the first task, they'll learn to shut up," Sirius said irritably.

Harry felt like Sirius was convincing himself more than anyone else—he really wanted to go up and give them a piece of his mind.

Days passed, and on the last Friday of the new week, during the final class, all the champions underwent wand checks. Mr. Ollivander himself came over to assess the condition of each champion's wand.

Bagman and a few heads of the school were present. Harry observed the champions from other schools. Krum seemed even quieter, brooding and almost forgetting how to speak. Bryl's presence, unseen for a while, became apparent. He looked darker than before. Every time he passed by the Quidditch pitch, the sounds of collective training could be heard, but two goblins stood guard at the entrance, so he never approached to watch.

Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons stood proudly in a corner, with the other two champions flanking her, forming a small group.

The three champions from Durmstrang hadn't changed much. Besides looking more robust, there were suspicions about how they trained. The guy who seemed like a wall, when he pulled out what could be described as a wand but looked more like a stick, Ollivander didn't seem too pleased.

"African wands... quite extreme, even more unconventional than those from Germany and America... I can't provide an accurate assessment. At times, perhaps, they could yield surprising results..."

Harry guessed it was about hitting a dragon's toe when it wasn't paying attention. He found the idea strange and exaggerated, turning his head away. Nona Lebert, the witch from Durmstrang who resembled a leopard, said, "That's because we're better at gesture-based magic!"

During the wand checks, a minor incident occurred. Harry declined an interview with a woman named Rita Skeeter. He'd held a dislike for the sensationalist journalist who had smeared Headmaster Dumbledore since his second year.

When she grabbed Harry's shoulder with claw-like, red-painted nails and tried to lead him to a broom cupboard for an interview, he instinctively shook her off. She glared at him dangerously, but when she noticed Professor Snape's presence from the corner of her eye, her face erupted into a false smile.

The final newspaper displayed three names and the relatively common 'concern'—doubts about their age. However, champions from other schools weren't as fortunate. For instance, one of the Beauxbatons champions, Victor Krum, who had been defeated by a 'regular' fourth-year student from Hogwarts, was highlighted with heavy emphasis. There were also some bits of gossip: the Beauxbatons champion excelled in enchanting magic, the Durmstrang champion was preparing a 'spectacular' display of dark magic, and there was even talk about the prodigious Quidditch player Krum, who had made a splash in the Quidditch World Cup recently. But it was the introduction to Durmstrang that attracted a lot of attention. The dynamic photo of a student with the last name 'Aelifindi' transforming into an African elephant appeared consecutively for several days in the pages of the Daily Prophet, eliciting awe and discussions from countless readers.

One of the impacts of this newspaper was that Ron's news of becoming a champion could no longer be kept secret. In the Weasley household, the only one unaware of this news was Mrs. Weasley. The others—Ginny, Fred, and George—all attended Hogwarts. Mr. Weasley and Percy were well-informed at the Ministry of Magic, Charlie was working with dragons, closely related to the first task, and Bill, who worked at Gringotts, had quite frequent contact with the family.

They formed an alliance of sorts, all united to keep it from Mrs. Weasley.

But all their efforts were in vain in the face of Rita Skeeter's reporting. The very next day, an angry letter arrived—not for Ron, but for the Weasley twins—

"If I hadn't read it in the paper, who knows when you would've told me—poor little Ronnie! He's only a fourth year—" Ron's head was lowered, fixated on the bowl of porridge in front of him. It seemed like he wanted to drown himself in it because everyone else dining turned their heads towards him, laughing incessantly. Mrs. Weasley's deafening voice still echoed in the Great Hall, "Stop being so caught up in those pranks—pay more attention to your younger brother—"

Fred and George had already slipped away, each holding a piece of bread. Ron dashed out of the Great Hall, leaving behind stupefied students and the ceaseless screeching of the angry letter.

...

Everyone had a different sense of time. While the ordinary students were still planning for their first trip to Hogsmeade of the new school year, the champions were improving themselves in various corners.

Ron hadn't turned in his potion homework for two consecutive weeks. Snape didn't bother hiding his displeasure as he slapped a "T" on it. Ron merely yawned in response, during the lesson on brewing antidotes, Snape's gaze was fixed on him the entire time.

"We're definitely going to pass this year anyway," Ron told Harry and Hermione after class.

"But next year is O.W.Ls year!" Hermione countered passionately. She had admitted to the two of them that she regretted handing over the Time-Turner.

"Who cares, Hermione? You don't seriously think I plan on taking his N.E.W.T level classes, do you?" Ron looked at her strangely. "Fred and George chose to give up some classes last year, including required ones like Astronomy and History of Magic. They discussed product concepts during class..."

"That's different! Do you have any plans for your future, Ron? Potions are necessary in many fields!" They left the classroom bickering, heading straight for the library—there were still plenty of spells they weren't proficient with.

Felix's demands were becoming stricter. In recent days, he had them facing two dragons simultaneously. A panel of several professors made up the judging panel, providing evaluations.

"The idea of summoning crossbow arrows in flight is good, but you have to consider your two teammates as well, Harry!"

"Collins, you're dealing with a dangerous beast; you need to learn to mask your scent. Also... stopping spells isn't a bad idea."

"Ron, the tunneling spell isn't used like that. You can't just jump in yourself."

Finally, the day came—November 24th.

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