At least, we can't let wizards still look like they're nearly a whole world behind.
Wizards need their own internet too.
No! A magic net!
But these things would probably take a long time to change gradually. After all, truth be told, wizards are quite stubborn. In this collision between the two sides, all sorts of incidents and disputes might arise, and the laws governing both would need to be revised over time until a version emerges that most people can accept.
This process could easily take ten or twenty years, or even longer.
No one knows what the future will look like once the two worlds start making contact. Adults always have endless things to worry about, but for the students, the most important thing right now is just one—summer vacation is over.
Harry's plan to surprise his friends had ultimately fallen through. At this point, what student wouldn't know about the Triwizard Tournament?
An ancient competition that had lasted for centuries, where the participants would be the most outstanding individuals from each school—true champions. For these adolescents in the prime of their youth, this tournament offered not only substantial prizes but also immense honor. There was simply nothing better.
Not to mention, this time the Triwizard Tournament contestants wouldn't just be students in school; professors from the three schools would participate too, making it far more exciting than previous ones.
Europe had three highly renowned magical schools. As the one with the longest history among them, Hogwarts had always looked down on the other two with an air of superiority. This mindset hadn't changed even in recent decades, when Hogwarts had fallen behind the other two in school rankings.
So for Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, this tournament was an excellent opportunity to prove, in an undeniable way, that they had surpassed Hogwarts.
Everyone was gearing up for it.
And Harry couldn't stay idle either. He finally understood what Dumbledore must have felt like in the past. As the first batch of new students he was welcoming as the new headmaster, for some reason, Professor McGonagall seemed even more tense than he was, constantly telling him what to watch out for.
She emphasized reminding Harry not to be too casual, because unlike Dumbledore, Harry's physical age was what it was. If he was too approachable, he'd lose his authority, and those bold students would climb all over him.
A headmaster needed to act like one.
Even though the past two years had seen plenty of turmoil, and last year demons had nearly destroyed half the castle along with most of its decorations and furnishings, when school reopened this year, the castle showed no signs of post-war dilapidation. Instead, it was as grand and imposing as ever.
Hmm... perhaps to prove that Hogwarts was still safe even after such an attack, this year's start-of-term feast was decorated more lavishly than usual. Professor Flitwick had conjured many beautiful, semi-transparent blue birds that flew around high in the hall, and the ceiling had been transformed into a snowy sky, with white snowflakes constantly drifting down from it. But when someone reached out to catch them, they'd find the flakes had vanished without a trace.
Aside from a few professors with more reclusive personalities, basically every professor had contributed something to this year's start-of-term feast, each showing off their skills.
Hundreds of candles floated suspended above each table, making the golden plates and goblets gleam brightly. The older students were already seated at their respective house tables, either chattering away to friends about their holiday experiences or heatedly discussing the Triwizard Tournament—of course, some would occasionally look up at Harry and smile.
Everyone found this feeling novel, especially when they lifted their heads to the staff table and saw that the person who used to sit in the middle had changed from a white-haired old man to a black-haired young man. It made the sensation even more wondrous.
The school's ghosts had all turned out in full—speaking of which, one very curious thing was that wizard ghosts could actually change their clothes after death, rather than being stuck in what they wore at the moment of dying.
For example, Gryffindor's ghost, Nick, was wearing one of his usual tight-fitting tunics today, but with the addition of an especially large ruff collar, which made him look quite elegant.
James and Lily, whom Harry had summoned back with the Ancestral Totem, couldn't do something like that; they were forever dressed in the clothes they wore at death.
Nick was now happily performing his newly learned acrobatics for the Gryffindor students—head juggling.
This was a new trick he'd picked up after contentedly joining the Headless Hunt club. It was clear that Nick was truly delighted right now.
The students were trying their best to observe Harry with movements they thought were unnoticed, while Harry was enthusiastically observing the students below—if you were sitting at the long tables, it might be hard to spot, but from the higher staff table at the front, Harry had to say their little actions were obvious at a glance.
It must be tough for Professor McGonagall to always pretend not to see the students' antics on normal days.
This feeling was incredibly fun, a novel sensation Harry was experiencing for the first time in his nearly forty years of life—being the headmaster of a school, with not his soldiers or adventuring party members sitting below, but his students.
"Is something the matter, madam?"
Just as Harry was observing the students below with great interest, the Ravenclaw ghost suddenly descended in front of him, blocking his view.
"I want to talk to you," the Grey Lady said, completely ignoring the other professors at the staff table, her eyes fixed intently on Harry.
"Talk?" Harry was taken aback for a moment, then said, "Of course. How about after the feast? The new students are arriving soon, and as headmaster, I can't be absent."
"Of course."
Though she seemed a bit anxious, the Grey Lady agreed and floated back to the Ravenclaw table.
"She's been looking for you for almost the entire summer, but you were away from school most of the time, Harry," Professor Flitwick explained quietly. "I have to say, you're busier than Dumbledore ever was."
"Yeah, so the moment he had a chance to rest, he took off without hesitation," Harry whispered back. "If I'd known being headmaster involved so much busyness, I might not have agreed back then."
Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout, who overheard nearby, both chuckled.
They didn't keep the people in the hall waiting long. Soon, Professor McGonagall led a line of new students in through the doors.
The Sorting Ceremony.
The Sorting Hat had composed a new song. Perhaps because of the major events at school last year, its singing voice was still not great, but at least the lyrics were more interesting than usual.
It passionately praised the professors' deeds in defending Hogwarts and took the opportunity to congratulate Harry, the newly appointed headmaster.
Once the Sorting Hat's song ended, the Sorting Ceremony officially began.
"Lando Samas."
"... Hufflepuff!"
"..."
The eleven-year-old first-years nervously put on the Sorting Hat one by one, then hurried to their respective tables. It was clear that many had been badly misled by their parents or friends beforehand, so when they put on the hat, they wore expressions of profound relief—at least they didn't have to face any dangerous magical trials or wrestle a troll.
"How does it feel?" Professor Flitwick whispered in Harry's ear. "I once asked Dumbledore the same question."
"What did he say?"
"He said that seeing these young lives always put him in a good mood," Flitwick shrugged.
"Sounds like a vampire spotting a blood bag," Harry couldn't help but laugh, and Flitwick burst out laughing too, which made McGonagall turn around and glare at them fiercely.
Once the last first-year headed to the Gryffindor table, the Sorting Ceremony finally concluded, and McGonagall sat down beside Harry.
"Welcome, everyone, welcome!" Harry stood up and said. "To the returning students, welcome back to Hogwarts. Thank you for your trust and love for the school—and to the new students, welcome to Hogwarts. I hope you find precious friendships and valuable knowledge here."
Naturally, no one whispered while Harry was speaking—not even Fred and George.
"Some things are better said before you start eating, when your heads are still clear," Harry continued. "I have a few important matters that I need you to take seriously."
"The Triwizard Tournament!!!"
Well, Fred couldn't hold back and shouted, and quite a few others wore excited expressions—even beyond just the Gryffindors.
"One thing at a time," Harry said with a smile. "You might have noticed there are two empty seats at the staff table. Professor Kettleburn, who should be here, is not.
"Yes, I'm sorry to inform you that your familiar Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Professor Kettleburn, has officially retired. In his own words to me, he needs more time to enjoy what's left of his old arms and legs."
"Though I never took his class, I'm sure some of you know just how professional and knowledgeable a professor he was... the only issue might have been paying attention to teaching safety."
Harry's words drew a wave of laughter.
"In any case, I'm pleased to announce that filling Professor Kettleburn's position is none other than our already familiar Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching role in addition to his duties as gamekeeper," Harry said with a smile. "Whether as headmaster or as a friend, I can assure you that Hagrid's knowledge of magical creatures is no less than Professor Kettleburn's."
Harry wanted to say more, but the students' enthusiastic applause drowned him out. Hagrid was popular in at least three houses—well, except Slytherin.
The applause at the Gryffindor table was especially fervent.
Amid this enthusiastic applause, Hagrid pushed open the doors and entered. His face was flushed red. Despite having the largest build in the room, at that moment he seemed so nervous he might duck into a hiding spot at any second. A big smile was hidden behind his bushy, tangled black beard.
Harry had considered helping Hagrid tidy up his hair and clothes earlier, but he'd given up before the feast started—a professor teaching about magical creatures didn't need to be perfumed and dressed up like he was going to a ball.
Those scents and outfits would only scare off the magical creatures.
At least the two masters Harry had seen who excelled in Care of Magical Creatures, Newt and Kettleburn, both had an unkempt appearance—that's what made them professional!
Hagrid even had more arms and legs than Professor Kettleburn!
"Of course, we'll have a second new professor as well!" Once Hagrid was seated at the staff table and the applause began to die down, Harry continued. "You might have already seen in the papers about this new course: Defense Against Dangerous Magic."
"Given that over the past many years, the Defense Against the Dark Arts class has consistently failed to teach students more practical and accurate knowledge, I've deemed that course somewhat outdated and behind the times... so I've specially introduced a new one."
"We all know the world outside isn't exactly peaceful right now, and it's foreseeable that this unrest might continue for quite some time. In this class, you'll learn some basic, useful spells that have protective effects—ones you can instinctively use in moments of danger."
"I've specially hired a professor with rich practical experience and a deep understanding of the magic world's shadier corners," Harry's words made the students' eyes light up. "He'll teach you how to recognize who's trustworthy, who's to be wary of, and who's to be handled with patience or even utilized... not just dangerous dark magical creatures, but more importantly, how to deal with dangerous wizards."
"My suggestion is—ask him plenty," Harry said, then raised his voice. "Please come in, our new professor!"
As Harry's words fell, Lupin pushed open the door and walked straight in. He looked much neater than Hagrid, but the overall impression was still ordinary and approachable.
He was different from when they'd first met last year, when Lupin had resembled a Muggle vagabond—gaunt, thin, and listless.
But after a full year of eating well, recuperating with Sirius, and receiving enough respect and care for his mental state, Lupin now at least appeared full of vitality.
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