The German Ministry of Magic and the Austrian Ministry of Magic have merged?
This was earth-shattering news, so much so that Mr. Crouch was shocked enough to drop his wand on the ground.
In fact, it wasn't just Mr. Crouch who was shocked—Harry even subconsciously squeezed Poppy tightly, making her cry out in light pain.
"You're hurting me..." Poppy said with a wronged, pouty expression.
"Sorry, I was just too shocked," Harry said dryly, but he showed no intention of letting go.
Since it was a mistake, he might as well roll with it.
"I know you're shocked, but hold off on the shock for now," Poppy whispered. "Knowing Veratia's personality, there's probably even bigger news coming up. If you freak out now, it'll seem premature."
"That makes sense," Harry nodded, agreeing with Poppy. "But by the looks of it, Hagrid and Madame Maxime's date is doomed—
"Why?" Poppy asked curiously.
"With something this big happening, Madame Maxime, as the headmistress of Beauxbatons, definitely won't act like nothing's wrong—you see." Harry pointed at Madame Maxime. "As everyone knows, Madame Maxime is French, so what do you think will happen next?"
"Happen what?" Poppy asked blankly.
"Idiot!" Harry reached out and lightly patted Poppy's drum-like body. "Think about it—when Germany and Austria merge, besides Poland, who's the most upset?"
Poppy suddenly had a flash of insight.
"France?"
"Exactly." Harry gave her a look that said she was teachable. "As a Frenchwoman, this is absolutely Madame Maxime's PTSD... With something this huge, how could she possibly stay indifferent?"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than Madame Maxime hurried away.
Leaving Hagrid standing there alone, at a loss.
"This is a big deal," Harry said with gleeful schadenfreude. "I bet the school won't be peaceful tonight. Heck, even the Triwizard Tournament news pales in comparison to the German-Austrian merger. What do you think?"
"That's obvious..." Poppy said softly. "The Triwizard Tournament is just a competition between students, but the German-Austrian merger is an international-level event."
Harry chuckled stifled laughs; he figured the German-Austrian merger might just be the beginning, not the end.
However, what Harry hadn't expected was that Hagrid wasn't dejected by Madame Maxime's departure. After Mr. Crouch hurried off, he stood beside Charlie, staring entranced at the dragons not far away, his eyes clearly spelling out "want" in big letters.
As everyone knew, Hagrid dreamed of raising a dragon.
After staring for a long time, Hagrid finally remembered Harry.
"Four in total..." Hagrid said. "So that means each champion has to face one, right? What do they have to do—fight the dragons?"
"I think it's probably just getting past the dragons," Charlie said. "If things go south, we're ready to step in and rescue, casting extinguishing charms on the dragons. They're all nesting mothers with eggs—I don't get why... Four champions picking three, the ones who get the Welsh Green or Swedish Short-Snout are the luckiest, but I can tell you, the one stuck with the Hungarian Horntail is in for it—its back is as dangerous as its front, look."
Charlie pointed at the Hungarian Horntail's tail, where long spikes jutted out every few inches, gleaming with a chilling light.
"How about Harry?" Charlie asked again. "I already told Ron in my letter, but I think it's better if he sees it for himself... Dragons aren't a joke."
"If I were you, I'd worry about the dragons," Hagrid said, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the Hungarian Horntail in front of him, muttering praises nonstop. "She's so beautiful."
It was hard not to suspect he'd sigh the same way about Madame Maxime.
Charlie gave Hagrid a speechless look, sighed heavily, and said with worry: "I really hope he's safe and sound after facing this danger. I don't dare tell Mum what Harry has to do in the first task. She's already frantic about him..."
"Relax, Charlie," Hagrid said with a cheerful pat on Charlie's shoulder. "Trust Harry. Dumbledore and the Goblet of Fire chose him as Hogwarts' champion for a reason. I heard..."
At this point, Hagrid leaned in, glanced mysteriously around, and whispered to Charlie: "I heard the Dark Lord was defeated by Harry."
"That's no secret, Hagrid," Charlie said, rolling his eyes.
"No, I don't mean over ten years ago," Hagrid whispered. "You know? In first year, the Dark Lord possessed Professor Quirrell, but Harry foiled his plot... In second year, I heard Harry tangled with the Dark Lord too..."
"There's that?" Charlie said in surprise. "But Ron never told me..."
"Maybe for secrecy," Hagrid shrugged. "Ron was involved in the first takedown of Quirrell—I heard he contributed a lot and even won fifty points for Gryffindor."
"I heard about that from Mum," Charlie said with a smile. "She was thrilled; she mentioned it in letters multiple times, emphasizing that Ron's different from those two troublemakers."
Though no names were mentioned, whether it was eavesdropping Harry, Hagrid over there, or Poppy who wasn't too familiar with the Weasleys, they all instantly zeroed in on the twins.
Troublemakers—who else but them?
"Those two are a real headache," Hagrid laughed heartily. "Besides Peeves, they're the ones who give the professors the biggest headaches at school."
"Same at our house," Charlie shook his head helplessly.
With Madame Maxime gone and the dragons seen, Harry figured there was no need to linger.
"Let's head back," he whispered to Poppy. "By the way, where's Newt?"
"Newt should be sleeping; he's been helping escort these dragons here and it's worn him out," Poppy said softly. "But I think he'll be back to normal tomorrow—you know his personality, the kind who loves magical creatures to death. Even with dragons, he'd want to cuddle one to sleep."
"I really suspect he put a spell on Tina; otherwise, why would she like him..." Harry said, spreading his hands.
He was different from others—as a senior from the class of 1887, even Dumbledore was understandably junior to him.
No helping it—Hogwarts seniority, that damn hierarchy.
"You..."
Poppy helplessly reached out and thumped him.
When the two returned to Hogwarts, the professors were in the Great Hall, discussing something as if facing a great enemy.
Luckily, Harry's Disillusionment Charm was skilled enough; they slowly edged their way back to their respective common rooms.
Before parting, Poppy had wanted to invite Harry to the kitchens for a bite, but Harry turned down her kindness—after all, he had to get up early for classes tomorrow morning.
He didn't really need classes, but Potions was non-negotiable, or Snape would nag him to explosion.
Passing the Great Hall entrance, Dumbledore gave Harry a meaningful glance.
Harry knew, of course, that Dumbledore's meaning wasn't about him seeing the dragons, but about going with Poppy to see them.
That's how it was, but the specifics depended on the situation.
The next day after Potions class, Harry was called over.
It was Neville, relaying that Professor Moody wanted to see him about something.
Harry wondered why Professor Moody would want him, but he still went to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office.
This wasn't his first time in the office; last time, the professor was Lupin.
Lupin was probably Harry's favorite professor, then Rosier.
By rights, he quite liked Professor Quirrell too, but unfortunately, Quirrell didn't like him.
That made him sad.
Each professor had their own preferences and decorating style. On Moody's desk was something like a large glass spinning top with cracks in it.
Harry recognized it at a glance—it was a Sneakoscope, since he had one himself, though much smaller than Moody's—it was a gift from Ron not long ago.
In the corner of a small table was a strange thing, looking a bit like a golden TV antenna but twisted horribly, buzzing softly nonstop.
On the wall opposite Harry hung something mirror-like, but it didn't reflect the room; inside were many dark shadowy figures moving about, all blurry and unclear.
"You like my dark magic detectors, eh?" Moody asked; he'd been scrutinizing Harry closely.
"What's that?" Harry pointed at the twisted golden antenna and asked.
"Foe-Glass. It vibrates when it detects plotting and lies... Of course, useless here—too much interference. Students everywhere making up lies about not doing homework.
It's been buzzing nonstop since I moved in. I had to disable my Sneakoscope because it wouldn't stop whistling and screaming. Too sensitive—picks up anything within a mile. Of course, it detects more than just kids' tricks." He said in his gruff voice.
Harry always felt like Professor Moody was lying to him, but he had no proof.
"So you know what the first task is, right?" Professor Moody shifted his wooden leg and said gruffly: "You know—dragons, yeah?"
Seeing Harry nod, Moody was very satisfied.
"Good, but let me warn you—don't use that killing curse on the dragon. I know you're good at it, but don't do something stupid." Moody said again: "Wizards your age don't know the height of the heavens or the depth of the earth. I warn you—don't cast that curse in front of everyone, got it?"
Harry thought, I'm not an idiot; I'd never use an Unforgivable Curse in public, right?
"I understand, Professor," he nodded.
"Good to know," Professor Moody thought for a moment and said again: "The first task definitely isn't to defeat a dragon—that'd be too fantastical for students like you—but I think there must be a way to cheat cleverly. So I'm asking—what are you best at?"
I'm best at Unforgivable Curses, he thought.
But out loud: "Quidditch, Professor. I'm good at Quidditch—you know, my godfather got me a Firebolt last year."
"Good, Quidditch." Moody gave a teachable look. "What you need to do now is fully combine your strengths, understand?"
"I understand, Professor." Harry scratched his head; he didn't get why Professor Moody was telling him this.
Curious as he was, he didn't pry.
"Good, kid." Moody reached out and patted Harry's shoulder. "I also want to teach you a spell—Accio, heard of it? If I remember right, Filius will teach it to fourth-years next term."
"I've heard of it, Professor." Harry tried to act like a normal student.
"Good, I'll teach you how to use it. Come on... watch closely."
Half an hour later, Harry left Professor Moody's office.
He scratched his head, unable to figure out why Professor Moody was helping him, so he stopped thinking about it.
Maybe it was for Hogwarts, for Britain? He knew Moody was an old Auror.
That evening back in the common room, Hermione and Ron crowded around, with Neville trailing behind.
"Neville said Professor Moody called you to his office?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Yeah." Harry sat in a chair, crossed his legs, and spread his hands. "He told me some things about the Triwizard Tournament. I don't know why he's helping me, but I still have to thank him for the kindness."
"He's an old Auror," Ron said with a grin. "Dad's good friends with him; they worked together for years. I heard Dumbledore trusts him a lot—maybe it's Dumbledore's idea?"
"No way?" Neville scratched his head. "Would Dumbledore be that kind of person? Telling the champions what the first task is in advance?"
"I probably didn't tell you guys—last night, Poppy and I went to the camp, the one where Charlie is. It's full of..."
At this, Harry glanced around, saw no one nearby, and whispered: "Full of several dragons... I saw Madame Maxime there. You think she'd hold back from telling Beauxbatons' champion? I bet Karkaroff has his ways of knowing too..."
"Now that you mention it..." Hermione nodded in understanding: "Then it really must be Dumbledore's idea?"
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