The First Task Ends

The other young wizards in Gryffindor had previously felt somewhat inferior to those from other houses. With a 14-year-old Champion now in their house, they believed Harry hadn't used any improper means, but it was still against the rules. Although the Gryffindor supported Harry, they weren't entirely sure his abilities matched those of the other Champion, and remained somewhat apprehensive.

Now, the Gryffindor students looked up at the shooting star that streaked across the sky, crashing into the arena and transforming into Firebolt in the boy's hand. A surge of heat rose from their hearts to their entire bodies, their hair stood on end, and their blood boiled. Ron and the others were filled with excitement, while Ginny was completely mesmerized, muttering to herself in words only she could hear.

Loren also felt a sense of relief, muttering to himself, "Tsk, he really is handsome. It's worth it for me to weave beautiful dreams for him every night."

"Yes, Professor Morgan is very responsible," Hermione finally found an opportunity and said with a smile.

On the judges' stand, Dumbledore's deep blue eyes revealed admiration, and the other headmasters nodded in approval. To make full use of the speed of the Firebolt while ensuring one's own safety was the best a 14-year-old wizard could do.

Only Karkaroff was secretly annoyed. Why hadn't they thought of this method? With Viktor's flying skills, he could definitely have scored higher.

On the field, the youngest Champion lifted his leg, straddled the flying broom, pushed off the ground, and soared into the air.

The broom carried the boy, spiraling upwards at high speed, as agile and free as a fish in water, circling around the Hungarian Horntail.

The Fire Dragon stretched its neck completely out, its head swaying from side to side with Harry's movements, its tail lashing out repeatedly, but the distance wasn't enough; it breathed fire, and Harry dodged it...

Finally, the Hungarian Horntail stood upright, spread its wings and began to flap. Harry seized the brief moment of stiffness before it took off, swooped down, and scooped up the Golden Egg.

The Hungarian Horntail froze, its massive head revealing a rather human-like look of bewilderment.

Before it could take off to give chase, Charlie and his keeper rushed into the arena, serving up all sorts of jerky laced with Potions potions, which quickly lulled the Fire Dragon into a blissful slumber.

"Look!" Bagman shouted, "Look! Our youngest Champion has gotten the Golden Egg in the fastest time!"

Harry held the Golden Egg high, rode his broomstick around the field, and a clear smile was on his face.

People were shouting, screaming, clapping, and cheering, the sound deafening.

"Excellent flight performance, beautiful and crisp! I'd give it a perfect 10!" Bagman roared, his face flushed, looking even happier Harry himself. "Let's see the judges' scores..."

"Madam Maxime, 8 points! Oh, that's a bit biased."

"My dear colleague Mr. Crouch, 9 points! But if you ask me, Potter deserves more..."

"Next up is Headmaster Dumbledore, 9 points! He's truly fair and impartial..."

"Headmaster Fontana from across the Atlantic Ocean, 9 points! Considering the previous scores... he has a very good chance!"

"Finally, it's Principal Karkaroff of Durmstrang, 4th place, 4 points?"

Bagman's face turned even redder with anger, but as a commentator and referee, he couldn't say anything too offensive. He just continued his commentary in a strange tone, "What a stingy guy when it comes to praise. Anyone with eyes can see that even so, Harry Potter is still in first place with an average score of 8."

"Let's congratulate Harry Potter!"

A deafening roar of screams instantly engulfed the stands, and even the ground trembled slightly. Excitement and joy pushed aside the cold east wind from the depths of the forest.

The celebratory dinner that evening seemed louder and more boisterous than any other banquet, with everyone talking about the five Champion ' performance during the day:

Cedric's ingenuity, Gravis's perseverance, Phoebe's captivating dance, Krum's ruthlessness, and Harry's agile flight.

The young wizards in the Great Hall kept standing on stools, craning their necks to look at the Champion in the hall, each face showing longing and curiosity.

At the front of the Gryffindor table, Harry slowly but anxiously enjoyed the sumptuous feast prepared for the banquet, because in the short time it took for just a few appetizers, five or six young Witch had already passed by and greeted him warmly.

Among them were students of Beauxbatons and Ilvermorny, whose accents were very strange.

After dealing with a Hufflepuff girl, Harry turned and rubbed his stiff, smiling face, complaining, "Honestly, couldn't they have waited until I was full before coming?"

"Creak—"

Ron's knife sliced across the plate, his expression contorted with envy.

"Giggle..."

Ginny's teeth were clenched so hard they made a sound; her contempt for certain girls and resentment at her own cowardly behavior made her unrecognizable.

Hermione looked around and then asked Loren, "Where are the Champion of Ilvermorny?"

"Still in the Hospital Wing. According to Seamus, almost every bone that could be broken is broken; he'll have to stay in bed for at least two days." Loren took a sip of the fragrant mushroom soup, clicked his tongue, and shook his head. "Ilvermorny's first time competing; he still lacks experience..."

Aegilbert Fontana, High Table, wholeheartedly agreed. At that moment, he was silently dealing with the fish and chips in front of him, chewing mechanically with a blank expression.

Recalling the scene of visiting his student, poor Pickley, in the Hospital Wing that evening... Fontana glanced at Maxime, who was chatting happily with the Hogwarts Gamekeeper and Professor of Care of Magical Creatures, not far away.

Turning to look at Karkaroff, he saw him avoiding the two from the Ministry of Magic, pulling the Potions Master aside and whispering something to him;

Finally, I glanced at Dumbledore; he was telling boring, lame jokes.

"..."

They're all bad people!

Fontana chewed hard on the fish bone in his mouth. It tasted pretty good. The House-elf at Hogwarts were excellent cooks. The fish bones were fried until crispy and flavorful.

Who would have thought that the Goblet of Fire, Triwizard Tournament with a history even longer than the founding of Ilvermorny School, was actually a cheating competition rife with behind-the-scenes manipulation!

Who would have thought that out of the four participating schools and five participating Champion, only Ilvermorny's Champion didn't know that the First Task would be facing Fire Dragon!

Look at all of these: hypnotic dances targeting Fire Dragon, Blinding Curse targeting Fire Dragon...

Poor Pickley, unprepared, is now lying alone in the Hospital Wing, eating bland pumpkin porridge with chicken breast.

"Don't worry too much, Aegilbert ..." Dumbledore glass of wine. "It's just a superficial injury. Gravis will be discharged soon, and his grades are quite good too..."

Fontana glanced at him sideways, then raised his glass in a fit of grief and indignation and drank it all in one gulp.

No wonder these people gave Gravis such high marks.

Those two Hogwarts Champion weren't good people either!

Poor Pickley...

"Ton ton ton..."

"Great job, Harry!"

"I know you won't die!"

"At most, one leg will be broken."

"Or an arm."

"Want to kill you?"

"No way!"

George and Fred lifted Harry up and spun him around in the center of the Gryffindor Common Room, joking with each other, and the young wizards watching erupted in cheers and screams once again.

The table and chairs were piled high with cakes, along with jugs of Pumpkin Juice and Butterbeer. Lee Jordan lit a bunch of Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs, which sparkled and shimmered in the air.

Harry, still feeling unsteady on his feet as he was put down, murmured, "I can't believe I passed the Fire Dragon Project unscathed, and the Second Task won't be until three months from now."

"Speaking of which..." Lee Jordan patted Harry's Golden Egg, weighing it in his hands, and said, "It's quite heavy. Come on, open it and see what's inside, Harry! Let's see what's inside?"

Harry slowly came to his senses, and upon hearing this, smiled and looked around, "Does anyone want me to open it?"

"Of course!" the young wizards shouted in unison.

Do you really want me to open it?

"Open!"

Loren, standing outside the crowd, quickly cast a Bubble-Head Charm on himself and then covered Hermione's ears.

The girl blinked, and the clever girl didn't struggle. Instead, she snuggled closer to Loren's chest, his palm completely enveloping her earlobe, warm and cozy.

The next second, an extremely terrifying, piercing scream filled the entire room.

Hermione frowned as she listened to the weakened sound of the Golden Egg. She had only heard a similar sound before at Sir Nicholas's Commemoration Feast, when the Ghost Band played a noise on a saw-like instrument.

Harry slammed the Golden Egg shut, his head buzzing.

"What was that?" Seamus asked, covering his ears. "It sounded like a ghost... Harry, you might have to walk past a ghost next time!"

"It sounds like someone is being tortured!" Neville's face turned deathly pale, sausage meat scattered all over the floor. "You're dealing with the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't talk nonsense, Neville, that's illegal," George said. "They can't cast the Cruciatus Curse on Champion. I think that sounded a bit like Percy singing..."

Harry rubbed his temples and looked back at the Golden Egg: "This is a real problem..."

Seeing that he was still going to investigate the clues about the Golden Egg, the surrounding young wizards scattered in fright.

"You know the clues in the Golden Egg, right, Loren?"

Hermione looked up, smoothed the stray hairs from her forehead, and stared at Loren, who had just broken the Bubble-Head Charm, her face full of doubt.

"Do I know... or do I not know? That's a good question..." Loren muttered a pointless sentence, scooped up a spoonful of cream cake, put it in his mouth, and fell into deep thought.

Hermione wasn't in a hurry. She sat down next to him calmly and shared his cream cake.

After a while, Loren said in a serious tone, "It's the end of the month, Dobby and Winky should get paid. How about we go see them in a bit?"

"..."

Hermione's eyes gleamed, and she pursed her lips. "Okay, I'd also like to know how the other House-elf view them."

"And Winky, I need to talk to him."

"What's up?"

Don't ask about things you shouldn't ask about.

"What information should be sought out, and what information should not be sought out."

"Information that can be inquired about is information that should be inquired about, and information that cannot be inquired about is information that should not be inquired about."

"..."

Hermione suddenly felt a pain in her wisdom tooth and clenched her fist.

Adding some body language would make communication more efficient.

The Castle were off, but the underground Kitchen was still brightly lit, with Winky, fragrant broth in a gleaming copper pot and a roaring fire in the large brick fireplace.

"Because French dishes have been added, many of the steps for making cream soups are quite complicated."

Winky explained in a high-pitched voice that he was wearing an apron over his butler's uniform, and that he was wearing socks that Hermione had given him, instead of his bare feet.

Winky arranged the chairs for the two of them and stood beside them nervously rubbing the hem of her clothes. She was also wearing an apron, and underneath the apron was a neat and clean little skirt. The matching blue hat was decorated with cloud patterns.

She looked up cautiously at Loren's expression, and when she noticed Hermione looking at her, she quickly lowered her head again.

Hermione took a deep breath, wanting to say something, but Loren stopped her.

"Sir, would you like a cup of hot tea?"

Dobby rushed over with a tray of tea and snacks, and looked a little disappointed when he saw that there were only two people. "Mr. Morgan, Miss Granger, hasn't Harry Potter come down yet?"

"Did you see him facing the Fire Dragon today?" Loren picked up his Hot Cocoa and blew on it.

Dobby nodded emphatically and said happily, "Dobby was hiding in the Fire Dragon's tent. Dobby was thinking that if Harry Potter couldn't handle the Fire Dragon, Dobby would secretly help him."

"It's good that you didn't do anything unnecessary. Your little tricks couldn't have been hidden in front of those referees."

"It's better for Dobby to be punished Dobby for Harry Potter to get hurt. Mr. Gravis bled a lot, Dobby doesn't want to see Mr. Potter bleed too."

"..."

Leaving the anxious Winky aside, Loren finished talking to Dobby, and then Hermione started chatting with Winky: "Winky, what do the other House-elf think about Winky and Dobby lately?"

"Winky and Dobby ..." Winky stammered, "Many House-elf are praising Winky ..."

Hermione's eyes lit up, somewhat delighted. "A compliment?"

Winky lowered her head, looked at the socks on her toes, and answered softly, "Many House-elf think that Winky is enduring humiliation in order to return to her former master's home. Her loyalty made her endure those torments and insults, so she deserves respect."

"Endure humiliation?" Hermione glared angrily. "How are wages and holidays torture and humiliation?"

Winky couldn't answer and looked at Loren with difficulty.

Loren tugged at the slightly agitated little Witch and turned to ask, "Dobby, I'd like to ask about Winky's performance over the past month. Please be detailed."

"Of course, Mr. Morgan!" Dobby seemed to have opened a floodgate, chattering on about how difficult things had been for Winky, and how he had negotiated Winky wages and vacation time...

After receiving his first paycheck, how did he take Winky to Hogsmeade to buy things?

A few weeks ago during his vacation, he took Winky to other wizarding communities for a stroll...

After listening to him, Loren looked at the female House-elf who had been left standing there for nearly an hour:

"Winky, I want to hear how you've felt over the past month."