Chapter 159: The Blast-Ended Skrewts
Dumbledore maintained a kind smile. "As for the champions, they will naturally be the most worthy candidates from our school—those who are most capable. This choice is not heavily influenced by house affiliation. After all, they will represent Hogwarts as a whole. So, once the champion is chosen, I hope all houses can set aside their biases, unite, and fully support Hogwarts' champion."
Malfoy sneered disdainfully, clearly uninterested in Dumbledore's sentiments.
"Let's continue with the topic," Dumbledore's half-moon glasses glinted slightly as he spoke. "The Triwizard Tournament was established over seven centuries ago as a friendly competition between Europe's three largest wizarding schools: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. Each school selects a champion, and the three champions compete in three magical tasks. The tournament was held every five years, with each school taking turns as host. It was widely regarded as an excellent opportunity for young witches and wizards from different countries to build friendships. However, due to the high number of fatalities, the Triwizard Tournament was eventually discontinued."
"Deaths, huh?" Lillian remarked with a sly smile. "Anyone who dies in a competition that's half-entertainment and half-contest doesn't deserve to be called a champion."
Loki glanced indifferently at Dumbledore on the staff table. "The tasks in the Triwizard Tournament do have some level of danger. But if someone dies in such a public competition, lacking any means of self-preservation, they deserve it. A waste of resources, really."
Saul forced a bitter smile. Having such senior mentors who completely disregarded human life certainly came with its own unique pressures.
In front of each house's table, some students gazed passionately at Dumbledore, while others whispered excitedly with their neighbors. Dumbledore's voice rose again, silencing the chatter.
"I know many of you are eager to win the Triwizard Cup for Hogwarts," he said. "However, the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction this year. Only students aged seventeen or older may submit their names for consideration. We believe"—Dumbledore's voice grew louder to override the protests of outraged younger students—"this is a necessary measure. The tasks remain extremely challenging and dangerous. Despite all precautions, younger students simply would not be capable of handling them. I assure you that no underage student will deceive our impartial judge to become Hogwarts' champion."
Augustus's silver eyes gleamed with intrigue. "Impartial judge?" An interesting choice of words. Historically, most champions have been of the appropriate age, simply because younger students lacked the means to bypass the Goblet of Fire's enchantments. However, for a skilled wizard, there are easily over a hundred ways to circumvent such fixed magical rules.
Power always reigns supreme—whether in the wizarding world or elsewhere. Rules often serve merely as chains for the weak, mere pebbles beneath the feet of the strong.
With the introduction of the Triwizard Tournament concluded, Dumbledore dismissed the students. The night passed uneventfully.
The next morning, the storm had subsided, though the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall remained overcast.
Morning: Care of Magical Creatures Class
The day's first lesson was Care of Magical Creatures. Augustus, Malfoy, and Lillian strolled leisurely across the sloping lawns, heading toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest where Hagrid's hut stood.
The summer breeze carried away the lingering heat. Augustus looked up at the blazing sun, its golden rays gilding his pitch-black robes. The verdant grass blanketed the earth beneath their feet, painting a vivid portrait of black, green, and yellow against the bright canvas of the day.
"Good morning, everyone!" Hagrid emerged from his quaint wooden hut, his cheerful face alight with enthusiasm. He waved at Augustus and the others. "You lot are in for a real treat—Blast-Ended Skrewts!" He proudly gestured to a crate at his feet.
"Disgusting!" Lavender Brown shrieked, leaping backward in horror.
Augustus narrowed his gaze. Inside the crate wriggled a tangle of pale, slimy creatures resembling oversized gray lobsters, their many legs flailing awkwardly. Each crate held roughly a hundred of them, each about six inches long, crawling clumsily over one another and occasionally bumping against the crate walls. They exuded an overpowering stench of rotting seafood. Occasionally, sparks shot out from one Skrewt's tail, propelling it forward with a sharp pop.
Indeed, their grotesque appearance, aggressive nature, and uncanny resilience made them a perfect addition to Hagrid's menagerie of "favorites." If Augustus guessed correctly, today's lesson would revolve around raising these so-called "adorable little creatures." He absentmindedly stroked his chin, pondering what kind of food could sustain such bizarre organisms.
"They've just hatched," Hagrid announced proudly. "You lot get to raise them yourselves! We'll make a big project out of it!"
A long, awkward silence hung over the clearing. Not a single student showed the slightest enthusiasm for the idea. Hagrid's cheerful smile faltered as he glanced nervously at the blank-faced Slytherins. Desperately, his gaze shifted to Harry and his friends in the Gryffindor group.
With a soft sigh, Hermione stepped forward, feigning interest. "These creatures aren't classified as magical beings yet. We don't know their uses now, but once they're fully grown, I'm sure their unique qualities will become apparent."
Most Slytherins remained indifferent, their faces twisted in disgust. Out of loyalty to Hermione, many Gryffindors reluctantly approached the crates.
Augustus observed the scene with quiet amusement before stepping forward with a faint smile. Malfoy hesitated before begrudgingly following. The other Slytherins exchanged wary glances before finally joining in.
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