Gabrielle Delacour

Monday, cloudy.

The ornate decorations in the Great Hall had not yet been removed, and the walls were covered with ribbons and emblems from the four schools. The gold-trimmed tassels on the Beauxbatons banner shimmered, and a little Witch at the Ravenclaw Table stared intently, lost in thought.

Phoebe Delacour patted her sister's shoulder and instructed her, "You stay in the Castle this morning. I'll come find you after my special training, okay, Gabrielle?"

The little girl nodded blankly.

A hint of guilt flashed across Phoebe's face as she hugged the little girl even tighter, trying to comfort her and herself.

Not far away, a strikingly beautiful Witch, entered the Gryffindor table from behind, carrying a tray of food. They sat down in a spot they had already reserved, with Herbology textbooks and notebooks beside them.

"I didn't expect classes to continue as usual during the Triwizard Tournament..."

"How can we support the academy's Champion if this is the case?"

"Why don't students from other schools have classes...?"

Loren muttered to himself in front of the group. Ever since he learned that classes would be held as usual that morning, he had repeated this sentence more than a dozen times, "The Champion from other schools are focused on training, but the Champion from our school have to attend classes and do homework. How are we supposed to win? Don't you think so, Harry?"

"Stop making fun of me, I don't want to get into this trouble."

Harry forced a smile, listlessly poking at the bread on his plate. Just then, a group of older Witch passed by, and Angelina handed him a piece of chocolate, saying cheerfully, "Eat more, Champion. Even if it can't be me, you should still be a member of Gryffindor."

Katie Bell affectionately put her arm around his shoulder. "Show the other schools what's what, and teach Diggory a lesson while you're at it!"

Seeing the Witch ' favored actions, Ron expressed his sincere envy. "Honestly, I'd rather switch jobs with you, even if it meant facing Voldemort."

Harry looked at his friends with a resentful expression, but their teasing eased his tense nerves a little.

Last night, after the Champion' training session, I returned to the Common Room in a daze and was dragged to a celebration party. It lasted until late at night before I had a chance to briefly chat with a few people about what happened.

After some simple reasoning, the group reached a consensus.

The person who threw his name into the Goblet of Fire must have been Death Eater. The fact that Voldemort and his name appeared together in the Champion' Selections suggests that Voldemort intended to attack him during the tournament... Their objectives were twofold: either to sacrifice themselves as a sacrifice for Voldemort's return, or to kill him outright...

However, he didn't need to worry too much. Since Voldemort had set up the arena, it meant that the school was safe, and Dumbledore and the professors could guarantee his safety...

Harry sorted through the clues in his mind and glanced at Hermione. During their conversation last night, Hermione always seemed hesitant to speak, as if she was hiding something from him.

"Stop joking around, you silly boys, think about serious things!"

Hermione said irritably as she spread mayonnaise on a loaf of bread, "According to what Harry said last night, the First Task will be held on November 24th. The focus will be on courage. Champion won't receive any help, and their only weapon will be their wands..."

"Listen to these statements, this must involve battle, a dangerous battle!"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Could it be more dangerous than the Basilisk?"

Hermione glared at him, about to scold him, when Loren placed a fried egg on Hermione's bread and comforted her, "Relax, there's no use in being anxious now, there's still almost a month to go."

"Not a month!" Hermione emphasized loudly, "It's three weeks, three weeks."

"Yes, yes, yes..."

Loren folded her bread into a sandwich, silencing her nagging.

"Hmm..."

Silk banners and ribbons fluttered gently. The Great Hall was noisy, and their voices blended into the cacophony, barely noticeable. Some young wizards glanced at Harry between chewing their food, but only for a few moments before moving on.

Newly enrolled wizards are often surprised and confused, and their older classmates always give them earnest advice:

Those people are like that, especially Harry Potter. He does something different every year. What's so strange about that? He's Harry Potter. He's been different since he was one year old.

So the new students patiently sought guidance.

The wondrous adventures of the past three years, accompanied by the aroma of fried eggs, were slowly swallowed down: Quirrell, who was manipulated by an evil spirit in his pursuit of Dark Arts; Lockhart, who stole the heroic deeds of others with the Memory Charm; the Basilisk and the Chamber of Secrets; and the Godfather, who was wrongfully imprisoned but swam across the ocean...

The little Ravenclaw Witch bit her spoon, looking distressed.

Should she tell them what Fred said? Fred only told her to keep it a secret, but he didn't say she couldn't tell her friends...

After having breakfast and chatting for a while, the group left the Castle and headed to the Third Greenhouse for their Herbology Class.

The lesson on the Bebop Tuber was over, and the young wizards were happy but also a little disappointed. Although the process of squeezing out pustules was disgusting, it was also strangely satisfying. Now that they didn't have any more to squeeze, they felt a little out of sorts.

The second Care of Magical Creatures. Perhaps the young wizards need more protection than the Fantastic Beasts themselves.

"Ah! Let go! Damn it, let go of me!"

Pansy Parkinson of Slytherin frantically shook the Blast-Ended Skrewts stuck to her hand, causing sparks to fly and the Slytherin students to scatter and flee.

There was a commotion of screams, which subsided only after Hagrid ran over to deal with the situation.

Loren deduced this from the sound; he was currently squatting on the grass, poking at the already developed Blast-Ended Skrewts with a small stick.

Completely different from when they first saw them, they resembled something between a giant scorpion and an elongated crab, covered in a layer of grayish-white, shiny, armor-like material. Loren had tested it; this shell could defend against some simple spells and possessed remarkable resistance to fire spells.

The stinger at the tail was already taking shape, but Hagrid still thought they were incredibly cute. Ron said that it would probably only when the venom glands were fully developed and he was given a few good whacks would he come to his senses.

Hermione squatted a little further away, writing in her notebook a diary of her observations of the Blast-Ended Skrewts, her expression focused but full of disdain.

Suddenly, she heard cheers behind her, as if something was worth celebrating.

Hermione turned her head and saw a group of boys forming a circle. Harry and Ron were in the crowd. In the center of the circle, a Blast-Ended Skrewts was suddenly thrown into the air.

Bang!

Startled, the Blast-Ended Skrewts spewed out a string of foul-smelling sparks that landed on the boys, eliciting cheers.

"..."

Hermione looked away, her expression somewhat complicated, then glanced at Loren, her expression softening slightly.

Having finished writing most of her work for the day, Hermione simply put away her notebook and walked over, looking down at him. "Why don't you join their games?"

"Hermione, I've noticed something interesting." Loren said without looking up, "The larvae of the Blast-Ended Skrewts have some stripes on their bodies. I originally thought those were where the carapace grew, but upon closer inspection, it seems that's not entirely the case..."

Hermione crouched down beside her, flipped through a dozen pages of her notebook, and examined the sketch of the juvenile Blast-Ended Skrewts: "Is there anything special about it?"

"Look..."

Loren used a small stick to draw distorted patterns on the grass, the style of which was very similar to the stripes on the young Blast-Ended Skrewts. "Does it Qidian anything else?"

Hermione sensed a strange familiarity from the patterns on the ground. Having excelled in Ancient Rune, she immediately recognized them. "Rune?"

"That's right, symbolizing Bursting Flame." Loren clicked his tongue. "Although Flamel emphasized when I first learned Alchemy that Rune originated from Fantastic Beasts and natural phenomena, this is the first time I've seen such a direct comparison."

Hermione found it interesting too, wanting to observe it more closely but still a little disdainful. She grabbed his hand and manipulated the small wooden stick in his hand to poke at the Blast-Ended Skrewts: "Professor Babbling mentioned that many of the Rune Fantastic Beasts associated with the origin of the Bursting Flame are now extinct, leaving only three or four, such as Fire Dragon, and—"

"For example, Veela," a soft, delicate voice added.

Loren and Hermione looked up, and the blonde, blue-eyed little girl grinned at them with an innocent smile. Under the light blue brim of her hat, her eyelashes fluttered, making her look as radiant and adorable as an angel.

"The Veela's transformed bird-headed banshees also wield Bursting Flame, and the patterns on their beaks are very similar to this Rune."

"You are..." Hermione paused, noticing the light blue silk dress beneath her coat, and hesitated, "A student of Beauxbatons?"

Looking at her youthful face, Loren did have a vague recollection. "You're the sister of Phoebe Delacour, Champion of Beauxbatons, aren't you?"

"You know me?" Gabrielle Delacour blinked her bright eyes and asked in a childish, clear voice.

"I remember you from the Champion Selection Banquet; you were the youngest student at Beauxbatons." Loren paused, then asked in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

Gabrielle's eyes dimmed slightly. "Madam Maxime is training my sister and leaving me alone. It's too stuffy in the Castle, so I came out for some fresh air."

Her accent was a bit strange. It wasn't obvious when she spoke short sentences, but when she spoke long sentences, she stumbled and her intonation was awkward.

Hermione asked blankly, "Every floor of Hogwarts Castle is well-ventilated, and even the enclosed classrooms have windows that can be opened, so how can it be stuffy?"

Loren was speechless. He squeezed the back of her hand and looked at the little girl. "Among the students in your school, are you only able to talk to your sister?"

Gabrielle looked down at the Blast-Ended Skrewts, hiding her expression with the brim of her hat. "I'm not in the same grade as them... and some people feel uncomfortable that my sister was chosen as Champion."

"..."

This is a bit tricky.

Wait a minute, Delacour, Phoebe... isn't that the Weasley family ' sister-in-law?

Loren pursed his lips, turned his head and called out to the crowd behind him, "Ron, I need to talk to you!"

A few minutes later, after hearing the whole story, Ron squatted down next to Harry, looked at the little girl with a wronged expression, and after a while, he put aside his question about what it had to do with him. He stiffly turned to look at Loren, and after a long pause, he managed to say, "If you two smart people can't do anything, what can I do?"

Loren and Ron stared at each other for more than ten seconds. Loren couldn't explain his reasoning, so he waved his hand and said, "Let Ginny take her out to play. Third graders have fewer classes now."

"Third-year students are just starting elective courses. Where are there too few classes?"

"They have fewer classes than us."

"But what does this have to do with me..." Ron looked at Gabrielle's pitiful, blinking eyes and couldn't bring himself to say what it had to do with him. "Okay, okay, I'll go talk to Ginny about it at lunch later."

Lunchtime, in the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was still noisy with conversations, and those sitting near Harry could still sense some scrutinizing glances, some from Hogwarts and some from students from other schools.

Many people still questioned the legitimacy of Harry's selection as Champion, but no one was so tactless as to discuss it openly.

Only a few professors were scattered in the High Table. Since last night, the four headmasters and two Ministry of Magic commissioners hadn't shown up. It was rumored that Phoebe, Krum, and Gravis had all gone for special training with their respective headmasters; the location, content, and time were unknown.

Only the two Champion from Hogwarts are still foolishly attending class; they clearly have little chance of winning.

Loren looked again and again toward the Slytherin table. A group of students in bright red school uniforms sat there blankly, their expressions vacant and their eyes lifeless.

He couldn't help but turn to Seamus and say, "What's wrong with Durmstrang's people? They look like they've lost their minds."

"You didn't know that!" Seamus said excitedly. "Students from other schools also started attending classes today. They're temporarily assigned to the seventh year, and they'll take the same courses as the seventh year. Durmstrang has chosen the Slytherin schedule, Beauxbatons has chosen Ravenclaw, Ilvermorny has split into two groups: one group has chosen Hufflepuff, and the other has chosen Gryffindor."

"So the Durmstrang took Potions class today and got poisoned by Snape?" Harry asked.

"Hehe, it's even more interesting than that..." Seamus said with a laugh. "The Durmstrang students had Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts today. Not only were they tormented by the Imperius Curse to the point of being delirious, but they also heard a lot of their headmaster's dark history, so most of them are completely dumbfounded."

The group immediately cast pitying glances their way.

Not long after, Ron returned, looking excited, having settled the little girl with Ginny.

"Loren, Loren! My dearest friend, you're closer than my own brother." Ron squeezed past Harry to sit down next to him, then put his arm around Loren's shoulder and shook him vigorously.

"Wait a minute, what's wrong with you?"

"Is this how you introduced me to Phoebe from Beauxbatons? You're something else, Loren!" Ron grinned from ear to ear, and before Loren could answer, he went to get his food, looking extremely happy.

Hermione and Harry looked at Loren with questions in their eyes.

Loren remained silent for a moment, then buried his head in his rice.

Never mind, let's just leave it at that.

Before leaving, Nicol instructed him to look after Beauxbatons, which was considered an honorary sacrifice for that purpose.