Chapter 137
Two days later, on November 24, Tuesday.
The morning class was Herbalism.
The lesson covered how to prune the Flutterby bush. This is a plant that is unconscious but has perception, similar to the fluttering umbrella fungus. When it senses living creatures approaching, it shakes its branches incessantly, making it difficult for people to successfully harvest its twigs.
It only blooms after being carefully tended for a long time. Its flowers are extremely precious, blooming only once every hundred years. The flowers are butterfly-shaped, usually blue, but other varieties may also exist. The peculiar thing about its flowers is that the scent it emits is not fixed; it can change according to the target it wants to attract.
The most famous use of this flower in potions is for love potions, but it is also often used by wizard hunters as bait or traps.
I have to say, this class is actually quite interesting, but all the young wizards seem distracted, with most of their gazes secretly glancing towards Soren.
Because in just a few hours, the Triwizard Tournament will begin!
On the contrary, Soren, as a champion, is completely unconcerned about the competition, enjoying himself—whatever time it is, he will just let it pass!
At noon, after lunch, Professor McGonagall hurried towards him in the hall, followed by the small and thin Harry. Harry's face looked very bad, an obvious shade of pale. This is not surprising; in the original story, even knowing the questions in advance made him extremely nervous, let alone now facing the unknown.
Soren suddenly felt a bit sympathetic towards Dumbledore. Is this really the successor the headmaster has worked so hard to cultivate?
Harry's character is kind, pure, and loyal. However, without the power left by his mother, he would not be an outstanding talent, let alone bear the heavy responsibility of being a savior.
The original story said he had courage, which was built through numerous adventures that were thrilling yet safe (with Dumbledore supervising). Facing Voldemort in the first year, the basilisk in the second year, and over a hundred Dementors in the third year… Unfortunately, aside from the adventure in the first year, all other achievements were overshadowed by Soren.
"Soren, the champions need to head down to the arena now... You must be prepared to complete the first task," Professor McGonagall said.
"Alright, no problem, Professor, I'm all set," Soren stood up, revealing a sunny smile. He gently adjusted his supreme wizard robe, which clung to his body in battle robe mode, outlining his perfect, solid muscle lines. The subtle patterns on the robe emitted a charming glow, making him appear incredibly confident, heroic, and handsome!
Daphne and Astoria also stood up simultaneously, planting kisses on his cheeks. Daphne whispered in his ear, "Good luck."
"You really are a lucky kid," Professor McGonagall said with a rare smile. "And you look great today. Are you confident?"
"Thanks to the professor's careful guidance in the past, Soren has the strength he has today," Soren said with a smile. "I will give it my all and won't let the professor down—"
He looked around the grand hall, raised his right hand with a clenched fist, and loudly declared with an amplification spell, "I won't let you all down! Hogwarts will win!"
Ravenclaw, led by Moray and Cho Chang, cheered loudly, waving small flags with Soren's face on them, making a crackling sound in the air. Luna even brought a horn from somewhere and blew a rousing tune!
Hufflepuff, led by Cedric, clapped vigorously. Susan Bones pulled along Hannah Abbott, Megan Jones, and several other girls; they clearly had rehearsed and shouted in unison, "Soren! Victory! Hogwarts! Victory! Soren! Victory!..."
Gryffindor's Hermione stared at herself, silently waving her tightly clenched right fist, mouthing the words "Go!" Among the many young wizards sitting still, her actions were particularly conspicuous. Ron next to her even showed a look of disgust, but he didn't want to criticize her because their relationship had improved recently.
The little wizards of Slytherin collectively stood up, all looking at Soren with awe and admiration. Although they said nothing, their supportive and encouraging attitudes were evident on their faces. Draco walked over and slapped Soren hard on the shoulder, smiling as he said, "Bro, go for it! Just do it! My parents and I are proud of you!"
At the professor's table, the short Professor Flitwick stood on a chair and applauded vigorously, giving Soren an encouraging look; Professor Sprout was all smiles, scattering a large handful of colorful flower petals; Professor Trelawney raised a tall glass filled with pear cider high; Snape put aside his usual aloofness and, rarely, joined the other professors in applauding, although his face remained cold…
Soren smiled, genuinely smiled, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, lost in the moment.
No matter the outcome of the competition, he would never forget today; he would never forget this moment.
His name is Soren Malfoy; his identity is that of a Slytherin, but today—
In this moment, this minute, this second, he is Hogwarts!
From afar, Dumbledore watched this scene from the professor's table, his gaze flickering, unable to suppress a sigh in his heart.
Although he was mentally prepared and had already begun attempts to win over Soren, Soren's reputation among the students was so high that it still surprised him. After all, Soren was only a fourth-year student; he couldn't recall Voldemort having such a reputation in his fourth year!
Moreover, the family Soren comes from is notoriously unfriendly to half-bloods and Muggle-born wizards; calling them infamous would not be an exaggeration—yet now? Even Hermione, a Muggle-born and a friend of another champion, Harry, was cheering him on. What was going on?
A wise light flickered in Dumbledore's eyes; he had a premonition that all of this was probably just the beginning for Soren. He could already ignore the divisions of houses and blood status, uniting the will and hearts of many. If he really won the competition…
It seems that his earlier gesture of goodwill in sending "Abattoir" was indeed prescient!
Professor McGonagall led Soren and Harry around the edge of the Forbidden Forest toward the area where the dragons were located.
The outdoor weather was quite cold, with gusts of chilly wind blowing against the faces of the three. Harry's face grew increasingly pale. Soren activated the temperature-regulating function of his supreme wizard robe, feeling not the slightest chill, but rather a bit warm.
As they approached the thicket where they could originally see the arena, a tent had been erected, blocking the view of the dragons, with the entrance of the tent facing them.
"You must go in with a few other champions," Professor McGonagall said, this time looking at Harry, her voice trembling slightly. "Wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is also inside… He will tell you the—steps… Good luck."
"Thank you," Harry replied in a monotone, drifting voice.
Inside the tent.
Katarin lounged lazily in a luxurious unicorn leather chair, dressed in a pristine white wizard robe that accentuated her creamy skin.
Her eyes were tightly shut, her eyelashes fluttering slightly, and her prominent chest rose and fell gently, exuding a breathless, languid beauty, as if she were in a deep sleep, like the sleeping beauty from Muggle fairy tales.
But through Soren's magical eye, he could clearly see the fluctuations of magical energy around her, strong and weak, rising and falling frequently, as if the magic in her veins was experiencing continuous mini magical eruptions. He knew she was resting her eyes, focused on nurturing the power of "magic Heart" within her bloodline, even oblivious to the fact that someone had entered.
Eleanor stood straight, gently stroking her wand, her gaze soft and focused on it, as if caressing her lover. Soren frowned; his magical eye could clearly see the sealing power on the wand slowly dissolving…
These two, just in the first event, are they getting serious already? Are they planning to slay a dragon?
As for Harry, he seemed like a statue, his whole body stiff and standing still. Soren smiled faintly at Harry, but Harry returned a smile that was more painful than crying.
Well, this guy's reaction is much more normal.
There has been a massive roar coming from outside the tent; just hearing that deafening roar makes it clear that it is definitely some kind of large animal.
At this moment, Bagman walked into the tent with a beaming smile.
As if sensing something, Katarine's eyelashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes. The entire tent suddenly brightened, as if a light had fallen, and a wave of invisible sharpness stirred in the air, brushing against the exposed skin of the others, each person feeling a slight chill.
Bagman turned pale and immediately swallowed the words he was about to say.
He first waited in place for a few minutes to regain some color in his face before speaking: "Alright, now that everyone is here, it's time to introduce the situation to you!" At this point, excitement reappeared on his face. "Did you hear the sounds outside? Those are the enemies you will face... dragons!"
"I will pass this bag around to each of you," he said, raising a cloth bag and shaking it at them. "You will each pick out the dragon model you are going to face! There are different types. I have one more thing to tell you... ah, right... your task is to collect golden eggs!"
"Ladies first," he said, as he handed the bag to Katarine with his large arm.
Katarine reached her fair jade hand into the bag and pulled out a small, exquisitely crafted dragon model—a turquoise dragon body, brown pupils, and an elegant long neck with a number tied around it: Number Two. This is a Welsh Green Dragon.
Among the many types of dragons, the Welsh Green is considered one of the most docile breeds. The corners of Katarine's mouth slightly curled up, and a smile appeared in her eyes, looking quite pleased with her luck.
Eleanor pulled out a bright red Chinese Fireball Dragon, with the number tied around its neck being Number Three. The Chinese Fireball Dragon is lion-like in shape and is known for its fierce and aggressive nature. Although this dragon type is not too strong, it is not an easy opponent, especially when it becomes enraged after being injured, increasing its danger significantly.
At this moment, Eleanor showed no expression on her face, not even blinking, as if no matter what type of dragon she had drawn, it could not stir any emotions within her.
Soren pulled out a silver-blue Swedish Short-snout Dragon, with the number tied around its neck being Number One.
Meanwhile, the unfortunate Harry drew a black Hungarian Horntail, which is Number Four. This is the most aggressive and dangerous of the four fire dragons. Its notorious reputation is known even to Harry, who has only recently entered the wizarding world from the Muggle world.
At this moment, Harry's face turned ashen, showing no trace of color.
"Alright, you all have your dragons!" Bagman said. "You have drawn the fire dragons you will face, and the number around their necks indicates the order in which you will interact with the dragons, understood? Now, I need to leave you for a moment because I have to give commentary to the audience. Mr. Malfoy, you are first; as soon as you hear the whistle, you will enter that arena, understood?"
"Understood, don't worry, Mr. Bagman," Soren nodded in response, his face showing no sign of tension, but rather a confident and calm smile.
Swedish Short-snout, here I come!
***
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