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The Legend of Harry Potter Schoolmaster

Traveling to England in the 1980s, Jon Hart was ready to study and work hard. Not wanting a letter from Hogwarts, disrupting all his plans. What is the cruelest thing for a student who is ready to devote himself to scientific research and has carefully planned for more than ten years? That is to tell him that this world is not only unscientific, but magical! ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// I do not own this story nor the story of Harry Potter. I just want to transfer it here for convenience, so that it will be easier to read. I also change some grammar errors as well as spelling errors, If you do see something wrong, then please do comment it. If the author wants to take it down, then please do tell in the review section or the comments.

zcbmo29 · Bücher und Literatur
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147 Chs

An Unexpected Entrance

There was a violent knock on the door, but it abruptly ceased after a few seconds.

"Just as I suspected, it was a prank," Jon sighed and shook his head. He discarded the last black eel's body onto the ground.

Then, he picked up the glass bottle from the floor...

"Alohomora opens!"

A loud voice echoed from outside, causing the door of Snape's office to crash down.

"Who's there!" Jon swiftly turned around, his hand, clad in dragon leather gloves, reaching for his wand at his waist.

Standing outside the door was a short, gray-haired witch.

"Why... Professor Sprout, what are you..." Jon expressed surprise.

Professor Pomona Sprout's expression seemed peculiar...

In Jon's memory, Professor Sprout had always been gentle, but now, she wore an expression that seemed to be a mix of shame and helplessness.

"Jon, hurry..." she hoarsely urged, "follow me to the auditorium!"

Almost involuntarily, an invisible force pushed Jon forward, compelling him to exit through the door.

"Just a moment, Professor..." Jon exerted considerable effort to ensure that the black eel blood in the glass bottle spilled out:

"Let me change my clothes first... and put these things down!"

...

Meanwhile, in the entrance hall of Hogwarts...

A buzzing sound permeated every corner.

Within a portrait hanging on a pillar in the auditorium, a conversation took place...

The portrait's occupant was a wrinkled witch—

Headmistress Isabel Garwood (1547-1622), who oversaw the reconstruction of the Hogwarts Auditorium in 1607 and enchanted the ceiling to resemble the outside sky. Her portrait always adorned the hall.

Yet now, more than a dozen wizards and witches squeezed into the portrait.

"How is the situation?" Headmaster Phineas Black asked in a low voice, striving to avoid being heard by the students.

"He hasn't arrived yet, which is unprecedented in 700 years!" Headmistress Isabel Garwood sighed helplessly. "Such a disgrace... When the Goblet of Fire revealed the name of the Hogwarts champion, he wasn't present. Instead, he was locked up!"

"Is that boy called Jon Hart?" Headmaster Phineas Black's voice carried a touch of satisfaction. "He has brought shame upon Hogwarts!"

With a soft "bang," Phineas was suddenly struck and pushed aside, making way for another wizard.

"What are you doing, Chris?" Headmaster Phineas Black weakly inquired, clutching his waist.

"Apologies, Phineas... but he's here!" Headmaster Chris Evra exclaimed with excitement. "I saw him in the staircase portrait on the first floor. He was rushing here at high speed... He should be here soon!"

All eyes fixated on the entrance, filled with anticipation.

Even in their scramble to secure good positions, they jostled each other.

Finally, the doors of the auditorium swung open...

And a disheveled boy, seemingly propelled from behind, stumbled inside!

"Oh, Merlin's beard!" Headmaster Phineas Black's jaw dropped in astonishment.

"Did he just slay a dragon?" Headmaster Chris Evra shook his head in disbelief.

"Judging by the amount of blood, it could be from a Ukrainian Ironbelly..." Headmaster Oliver Cromwell analyzed with a serious expression.

"Such a disgrace!" The wrinkled witch closed her eyes and shook her head sadly. "Why did the Goblet of Fire choose such an individual as the representative of Hogwarts?"

"Don't you think he looks rather impressive?" Headmaster Dairis Dewent exclaimed, surprised.

...

As the doors swung open, the previously whispering hall fell silent.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes fixed upon the doorway, uniformly focused.

Many students, particularly the girls seated at the back, recoiled in shock.

Jon Hart awkwardly made his way into the hall. The dragon leather coat he wore was intermittently dripping with blood.

This made Jon contemplate whether to remove the attire, but his original robes remained in Snape's office. If he took off the coat, he would be left in just his undergarments, making the situation even more embarrassing.

Simultaneously, he pondered over the reason for Professor Sprout's ostentatious escort to the hall.

Could it be that...

"Let's welcome..." Mr. Ludo Bagman, mustering his courage, approached the "uninvited guest". "The fourth champion, or rather, the second champion from Hogwarts!"

"What? What are you saying?" Jon's mouth gaped open. "Who is the fourth champion?"

"Why, it's you, Mr. Hart!"

With a resounding clatter, the glass bottle of black eel blood slipped from Jon's hand, shattering on the ground. The scarlet liquid splashed all over Mr. Bagman.

"This must be a joke, right?" Jon stuttered.

Mr. Bagman hurriedly covered his nose and stepped back.

"I don't believe anyone would make a joke about something like this, Mr. Hart..." He frowned. "Go to the podium!"

Jon already knew what was happening... Why had Hannah sought him out? Why did Professor Sprout force him to the hall?

Why was this occurring?

Who had shamelessly entered his name into the Goblet of Fire?

Why was the Goblet of Fire once again so blind... I am not a savior, but an ordinary student. I never considered its history at all!

...

"Jon, proceed to the podium!" Professor Sprout approached him and gently reminded.

There was no other choice—

Jon had to traverse the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. The journey seemed exceedingly long...

As he walked, the black eel's blood dripped along the way, almost forming a dark red boundary between the lengthy tables of Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.

It felt like an entire hour had passed before he finally reached Dumbledore. All the teachers' eyes were fixed upon him.

"Well... enter that door, Jon," Dumbledore said, devoid of a smile.

"But... Professor Dumbledore!" Jon raised his hand. "I am a third-year Hufflepuff student. How could I participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Can't I opt-out?"

Jon's request was candid, seeking a way out.