"So, what do you all think?"
Ron stood on tiptoe, poking his head out from between his two twin brothers' shoulders, one arm slung over each of them.
"What do we think?"
Fred reached out and smacked Ron on the forehead, grinning as he said, "Relax, we've already talked to Professor McGonagall about this. She doesn't think we can represent Gryffindor in the contest, but she agreed to pass the matter on to the headmaster."
"Yeah." George's eyes sparkled. "Hogwarts' champion is very likely going to be one of us—of course, that's the optimistic view. Who knows if the Goblet of Fire might suddenly go mad and pick one of us to represent Hogwarts?"
"That Goblet must be blind," Ginny piped up with a sarcastic jab from the side. "That's the only way it'd choose you two—"
The twins put on an exaggerated look of dismay, clutching their heads and chorusing, "That really hurts our feelings, Ginny."
"But we still have to thank Headmaster Dumbledore," Seamus said, hands on his hips. "After all, he's willing to give us under-seventeens a chance. Though Professor McGonagall turned me down because my skills are average, I'm still ready to fight for Gryffindor…"
He didn't get to finish before the twins cut him off.
"Oh, Merlin's exploding thunderbolts!" Fred declared dramatically. "How can you call your skills 'average'? I'm sure McGonagall didn't reject you because you're lacking—she's probably afraid you'll blast the Durmstrang or Beauxbatons champion into the sky."
"We at Hogwarts promise not to prioritize Seamus," George added with a wink and a grimace.
Seamus was furious. He chased after Fred and George, pulling out a Dungbomb to lob at them.
But Fred and George were quick on their feet, dodging his Dungbomb with ease and even pulling out a pile of bizarre gadgets to fire back.
They laughed and horsed around for a bit, agreeing to meet up the next day to vote, then left the Great Hall.
The next morning, Hagrid mysteriously tracked down Harry.
More precisely, he sent someone to fetch Harry.
Colin Creevey was a big mouth, and he shouted the news across the Great Hall, which meant Ron and Hermione—Hagrid's good friends—had to come along and see what was up.
Seamus and Neville wanted to tag along too, but at the thought of Hagrid's rock cakes, they both decided against it.
They set down their food, wove through the crowd in the Great Hall, and headed straight for Hagrid's hut.
Hagrid was already waiting at the door. When he saw them coming, he welcomed them awkwardly, not forgetting to open two bottles of whiskey and pour them for the winged horses in his care.
Once he'd finished fussing, he led the trio inside the hut.
Inside, Hagrid sat on a tiny stool, looking incredibly cramped.
"What's wrong with you?" Hermione asked with concern. "Something's off with you right now, Hagrid."
"Oh, er? Is it?"
The oversized, lovable Hagrid clearly couldn't hide a thing. He gave an embarrassed laugh, lifted his head, and glanced awkwardly at the trio.
Harry noticed that Hagrid's usually wild beard was groomed to perfection today, and even his hair was combed neatly.
It looked like… more than just something. Definitely something.
"Anyone with eyes can see it, Hagrid."
Ron reached out and patted Hagrid's massive shoulder. "If there's anything you need help with, just say it. We'll do whatever we can."
"Yeah," Hermione chimed in.
Hagrid lifted his head, then lowered it again, his huge hands twisting nervously.
"It's not really a big deal," he said. "You know, lately, er, Dumbledore's had me looking after Beauxbatons' winged horses. They need a lot of careful tending—they drink only the finest whiskey."
"So you need us to help you get whiskey?" Ron asked.
"No." Harry caught the real issue right away.
Whiskey, no matter how fancy, wasn't something Hagrid lacked.
After all, the richest person at Hogwarts had to be Hagrid.
Who else could match his wealth? His whole hut was made from scraps of magical creatures from the Forbidden Forest—even a rug woven from unicorn hair.
Yes, you read that right: a unicorn-hair rug. And Hagrid had several of them.
So there was only one truth: the thing tying Hagrid's stomach in knots was Beauxbatons' headmistress, Madame Maxime.
"I'm guessing Hagrid's in love?" he asked with a cheeky grin.
Hagrid's face flushed crimson in an instant. He stammered for a while, his hands flailing up, down, left, and right, before it all dissolved into a sigh.
"You're right, Harry." Hagrid scratched his head. "I've gone and fallen for Beauxbatons' headmistress, Madame Maxime… I know you're the best at Hogwarts—not just with magic, but, er, with romance too. I know three girls are head over heels for you, even someone as brilliant as Miss Grindelwald can't help herself. So… I figured I'd come to you for advice."
At those words, everyone in the room froze.
Hermione shot Harry a look, her disdain unmistakable.
Scumbag!
Even as a friend, Hermione thought Harry was irredeemably awful.
Ron, meanwhile, gazed at Harry with pure admiration. He knew all about Harry's tangled love life with three girls, but he'd never realized what a jaw-dropping feat it was.
Not until Hagrid mentioned it did he grasp how impressive it truly was.
Harry scratched his head. He knew his own business—he wasn't exactly a Casanova.
But a man never admits that.
Still, out of responsibility to Hagrid, Harry said, "I only know a little, and most of the tricks were taught to me by Sirius. If you want to pursue Madame Maxime, I'd recommend asking Sirius for help."
Then he added, "Tonight, I'll write to him, explain your situation, and have him send you advice—or even come to Hogwarts in person to coach you. What do you think?"
"That'd be brilliant!" Hagrid beamed, rubbing his hands together. "I don't even know how to thank you lot—Merlin's socks, I really…"
"We're friends; no thanks needed," Harry said with a laugh.
"Oh, right."
Hagrid stood up, went to a cupboard, opened it, and rummaged around for ages before finally pulling out three small purses.
"Dragon-hide purses," he said, handing them to the trio. When Hermione took hers, he lowered his voice and added, "These have Undetectable Extension Charms—I remember you've always wanted one but couldn't find a way to get it… I had someone make three and figured I'd give them to you…"
"This is too much, Hagrid," Hermione said, though her eyes were glued to the purse, not moving an inch.
Hagrid, knowing full well how much she loved it, chuckled and said, "The purses aren't expensive. They're just a token of our friendship—"
They thanked Hagrid again, lingered a bit longer, then headed back to the Great Hall with him.
A little later, they had the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament champions to attend.
Hermione really adored the little purse. Not only was the material top-notch, but it had the all-important Undetectable Extension Charm for extra space.
These days, items like that with the charm weren't sold on the market anymore.
That evening, the students gathered in the Great Hall, buzzing with excitement as they waited for Dumbledore to announce the final champions.
But Dumbledore said there was no rush to make the selection and announced the evening banquet first.
With students from the visiting schools present, Hogwarts' house-elves were working overtime, preparing dishes suited to the foreign students' tastes.
After all, anyone who knew anything about Britain understood: the locals could stomach the food, but students from a French school like Beauxbatons might not.
As everyone knows, heaven has British police, French chefs, and German workers—while hell has German police, French workers, and British chefs.
"Today's food is actually pretty good," Ron said, tearing into a chicken leg.
"It's just a chicken leg. How's it different from what you've had before?" Hermione gave him a disgusted look.
For some reason, that one comment set Ron off.
He grumbled, "Different? It's way different—forget the rest, I just think this chicken leg isn't as good as the old ones."
"That's all in your head," Hermione said, refusing to trust a chicken-leg connoisseur.
Ron opened his mouth to argue, but then he heard Professor McGonagall tapping her goblet.
"Quiet, please?"
The noise in the Great Hall died down, and with it, the food on the tables vanished completely.
Then Dumbledore stood up, and the hall fell silent as a graveyard.
Everyone knew the main event was here—this was it, the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament champions!
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