The Matter of the Basilisk

During dessert time alone, the young wizards had already forgotten all the exciting things that had happened during the summer vacation, and the news of the Goblet of Fire Triwizard Tournament their hottest topic.

"The Triwizard Tournament was founded about seven hundred years ago and is held every five years. In the past, only three schools— Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang— participated, so it was called the Triwizard Tournament..."

"Each school selects one Champion, and then the three Champion compete in three magical events... At first, people thought this was a great way for young wizards from different countries to build friendships, but later..."

What happened next?

"Later, the death toll became too high, so the Triwizard Tournament was suspended."

"Huh..."

Even after the banquet ended and the Prefect led them back to the lounge, the young wizards were still chattering about the Triwizard Tournament.

Fred had just stepped onto the Third Floor when the magic staircase made a loud noise and changed direction, but he didn't care at all, his face beaming with excitement. "George, did you hear that... Winning the game will give us a thousand Galleon, enough to rent the shop at 93 Diagon Alley, and the rest of the money can be used to buy a warehouse full of raw materials."

"And these wonderful visions..." George looked at him with equal excitement, his face flushed with emotion, "Are only a drop or two of Draught of Living Death away from us!"

He wasn't the only one who dreamed of becoming Hogwarts Champion. In each house's procession, you could see young wizards with expressions of either fervor or excitement, unable to contain their whispers to those around them.

"I want to participate too!" Ron looked dazed. "That's a thousand Galleon, a thousand Galleon ..."

"That's because the mortality rate has been suspended for hundreds of years. What is the mortality rate?" Loren said quietly from the side.

Ron's face showed a conflicted expression. "I want the prize of a thousand Galleon, but I don't want the death rate."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, "Then go to sleep early, you can dream about anything."

"And the Mirror of Erised, you can borrow it from Professor Dumbledore; you can see it even during the day," Hermione added.

"Can't you say something nice, even just to comfort me?" Ron looked at his friends with a hint of resentment. "Besides, that kind of death rate happened many years ago, right? And how can you gain fame and have fun without a bit of adventure?"

"Seriously, it would be amazing to be chosen as Champion!" Ron said, getting more and more excited. He turned around, trying to gain some support. "Neville, Seamus, if we can fool Dumbledore, would you like to participate?"

Neville, who was looking down at the steps, paused for a moment upon hearing this. After thinking seriously for a moment, he refused, saying, "What I've learned is definitely not enough. If it were a year ago, my grandmother would probably have wanted me to participate. She always nagged me about upholding the family's honor, but now she—"

Suddenly, a step appeared on the stairs beneath his feet. Neville, who was prepared, stopped his step and smiled smugly.

Ron shook his head and turned to look in the other direction. "What about you, Seamus?"

Seamus and Dean huddled together, whispering something to each other with mysterious expressions.

Loren and the others exchanged glances and then tiptoed closer.

"Did you see his nose, and that eye..." Seamus's suppressed voice held an uncontrollable excitement. "It's so strange, so incredibly strange!"

Dean nodded repeatedly, a smile playing on his lips, "There's no one stranger at Hogwarts, and I've never seen a stranger wizard. There's definitely something wrong!"

The two reached a consensus, exchanged a glance, and their expressions were full of determination.

Seamus nodded solemnly. "The era of Harry Potter and Loren Morgan is over. The Champion of Gryffindor will surely belong to Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas!"

Dean scratched his head in confusion. "Why not Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan?"

"That's not important."

The people eavesdropping behind them:...

"If you're talking about the new Professor Moody ..." Hermione's eerie voice startled the two of them, "Then you might as well give up and focus your energy on the Triwizard Tournament."

"Why?" Seamus's face was full of indignation.

Last year, Professor Lupin was a good person, at least Professor Lupin looked kind and approachable. But this year, Professor Moody doesn't seem like a good person at all.

"Because Moody was the greatest Aurors of the last fifty years, he spent his life fighting dark wizards, and he filled half of Azkaban." Hermione paused. "Most importantly, he was a good friend of Dumbledore."

Seamus and Dean opened their mouths, their shoulders gradually slumping, as if they had suffered a tremendous blow.

Loren gave Hermione a deep look. "You're right, but Gilderoy Lockhart, before he was exposed, was a legendary adventurer, a famous author, Order of Merlin, Third Class, an honorary member of the Dark Force Defense League, and a five-time winner of the Most Charming Smile award from Witch Weekly..."

Ignoring the little Witch's furious gritted teeth beside him, Loren put his arm around Seamus and Dean's shoulders, gave them a shake, and laughed, "Being vigilant isn't a bad thing!"

Seamus and Dean nodded emphatically.

After ascending the magical staircase, giving the password to the Fat Lady they hadn't seen for two months, they climbed through the Portrait Hole and up the spiral staircase back to their respective dormitories. On the four-poster beds with deep red curtains hanging down, a heated long-handled charcoal stove was already placed in the middle of the bedding.

I changed into my pajamas and lay in bed. The raging storm outside the window made the warm bedroom feel even more comfortable.

"Sigh..." Loren stretched his back in bed, feeling a bit sore after sitting in the car all day. "I wish I didn't have class tomorrow."

In the dim candlelight, Ron, already drowsy, mumbled, "I still want to participate. Maybe George and Fred can find a way... to get into the Triwizard Tournament... who knows, right?"

"Who knows..."

Harry imagined himself becoming Champion and winning the Triwizard Tournament...

"Hehe..." Harry rolled over, buried his face in the pillow, and laughed.

Just like the young wizards' excited hearts, the storm did not gradually subside until dawn.

In September 1994, Hogwarts welcomed the new school year.

The storm had subsided by the next morning, but the dome of the Great Hall remained shrouded in gloom, with large, thick, bluish-gray clouds rumbling as they rolled.

The young wizards had already received their course schedules for the semester and were chatting while eating breakfast.

"Herbology Class is with the Hufflepuff students, and Care of Magical Creatures is with the Slytherin..." Hermione's fingers traced the columns of the schedule, then she turned and bit into the piece of bread with jam that Loren handed her, stammering, "Are you really not planning to drop Divination Class and take Ancient Rune with me?"

"I think the Divination Class is pretty good." Loren leisurely sandwiched a fried egg and bacon between slices of bread, making a simple sandwich, and took a big bite out of it.

Chewing on a savory sandwich, Loren glanced at the High Table. Most of the faculty seats were empty, with only Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Professor Hagrid enjoying their breakfast and exchanging a few words every now and then.

Looking at the schedule again, he realized that Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn't until Thursday. What a pity, he wanted to get a closer look at Professor "Moody".

"Monday's class was great..." Ron's cheeks puffed out like a hamster from eating. "We were outdoors all morning, and the afternoon was a relaxing Divination Class... I'm really looking forward to hearing her death Prophecy..."

"Why?" Harry looked at him, puzzled.

"You just don't understand..." Ron raised his chin smugly, "Because the Triwizard Tournament carries the risk of death, if she gave me a death Prophecy, it means I have a chance to participate in the Triwizard Tournament!"

At the same table, George, Fred, and Lee Jordan, a few seats away, were discussing what magical method they could use to age themselves so they could cheat their way into the Triwizard Tournament.

The first class in the morning was Herbology Class. The vegetable garden was still damp after the rain. Loren and the others walked along the muddy path to Greenhouse Three. Professor Sprout had not yet opened the door, and the open space in front of the door was full of little wizards cleaning shoes.

Loren looked down and saw that their trouser legs were also covered in mud.

"Good morning, Loren, Hermione, Harry, Ron..." Rolf tapped the feet of the group with his wand, and the mud slid off like quicksand, leaving no blurry yellowish-brown mark. He seemed very skilled at it.

Loren and Hermione blinked, recalling the spell they had just heard with amusement. It was like Cleaning Charm, but different; it was very targeted.

Ron greeted him warmly, "Good morning, Rolf, how was your summer vacation?"

"Not good..."

"Have you encountered any difficulties?"

Rolf fell into thought, his gaze sweeping over the group. Loren was knowledgeable and experienced, Hermione had a remarkable memory, and Ron's father, as a Ministry of Magic employee, might also have inside information...

After a moment's thought, Rolf asked with anticipation in his eyes, "Have you ever heard of Basilisk hatched from Unicorn?"