Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 264 The Hero of Hogwarts—Harry Potter! (6000 words)
"So what are your thoughts?"

Ron stood on tiptoe, his head peeking over the shoulders of his two twin brothers, his arms draped over their shoulders.

What are our thoughts?

Fred patted Ron on the forehead and said with a smile, "Don't worry, we've already talked to Professor McGonagall about this. Although Professor McGonagall doesn't think we can represent Gryffindor, she promised to report this to the Headmaster."

“Yes.” George’s eyes lit up. “We could very well be the champions of Hogwarts—of course, that’s an optimistic view. Who knows if the Goblet of Fire might suddenly go crazy and choose one of us to represent Hogwarts?”

"That Goblet of Fire must be blind," Ginny remarked sarcastically from the side. "That's why it chose the two of you—"

The twins feigned distress, clutching their heads and saying in unison, "This is so heartbreaking, Ginny."

“However, we still have to thank Headmaster Dumbledore, after all, he was willing to give those of us under seventeen a chance,” Seamus said, hands on his hips. “Although Professor McGonagall rejected me because of my mediocre abilities, I am still willing to give Gryffindor…”

Before he could finish speaking, he was interrupted by the twins.

“Oh, Merlin’s thunderous explosion!” Fred exclaimed dramatically. “How can your strength be described as ordinary? I believe Professor McGonagall didn’t reject you because you’re not strong enough; she’s probably afraid you’ll blow Durmstrang or Beauxbatons’ warriors to smithereens.”

“We at Hogwarts promise that we will never give Seamus preferential treatment,” George said, winking at him.

Seamus was furious. He chased after Fred and George, pulling out a dung ball to attack them.

However, Fred and George were agile enough to not only dodge his dung balls but also pull out a bunch of strange gadgets to fight back.

They laughed and joked around for a while, agreed to come and vote together the next day, and then left the auditorium.

The next morning, Hagrid found Harry in a mysterious manner.

To be precise, they sent someone to find Harry.

Colin Crevey was a big mouth, and he blurted it out in the Great Hall, which led Ron and Hermione, Hagrid's two best friends, to also go and find out what was going on.

Seamus and Neville actually wanted to go too, but considering Hagrid's rock bread, they decided to give up the idea.

They put down their food, walked through the crowd in the auditorium, and headed towards Hagrid's cabin.

Hagrid was already waiting for them at the door. When they arrived, he gave them a polite welcome and didn't forget to open two bottles of whiskey and pour some for the Pegasus horses he was looking after.

After he finished his work, he led the three little ones into the small house.

Inside the cabin, Hagrid sat on a small stool, looking quite cramped.

"What's wrong with you?" Hermione asked with concern. "Something's not right with you, Hagrid."

"Oh, really?"

The larger, cuter Hagrid obviously couldn't hide anything; he smiled awkwardly and looked up nervously at the three little ones.

Harry noticed that Hagrid's usually messy beard was meticulously groomed today, and even his hair was neatly combed.

It seems... not just something happened, it definitely happened.

"Anyone with eyes can see that, Hagrid."

Ron reached out and patted Hagrid on the broad shoulder. "If you need any help from us, just say so. We'll definitely help you if we can."

“Yes,” Hermione chimed in.

Hagrid raised his head and then lowered it again, his large hands nervously rubbing together.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “You know, lately, well, lately Dumbledore asked me to look after Beauxbatons’ Pegasus. Well, those Pegasus need to be well cared for; they need to drink the finest whiskey.”

"So you need us to get you some whiskey?" Ron asked.

“No.” Harry immediately grasped the crux of the problem.

Even the most expensive whiskey is never lacking in Haig.

There's no other reason than that Hagrid is the richest man in the entire Hogwarts.

Who could be as rich as him? The whole house was made from scraps of all sorts of magical creatures from the Forbidden Forest, and you could even see carpets made of unicorn hair.

Yes, you read that right, it's a rug woven from unicorn hair. Hagrid has several rugs like this.

So there's only one truth: the one who could make Hagrid so worried is none other than Ms. Maxim, the principal of Beauxbatons.

"I think Hagrid is in love, isn't he?" he asked with a grin.

Hagrid's face flushed red instantly. He stammered for a long time, moving his hands up, down, left, and right, before finally letting out a sigh.

“You’re right, Harry.” Hagrid scratched his head. “I have indeed fallen for Madam Maxim, the headmistress of Beauxbatons… I know you’re the best at Hogwarts, not just in magic, but also—well, in love. I know three girls are infatuated with you, even a girl as wonderful as Miss Grindelwald can’t help herself, so… I thought I’d come and ask you for advice.”

Upon hearing this, everyone present was stunned.

Hermione looked at Harry, her disdain undisguised.

Scumbag!

Even as a friend, Hermione thought Harry was utterly hopeless.

Ron looked at Harry with admiration. He knew about Harry's love-hate relationship with the three girls, but he never realized how amazing this achievement was.

It wasn't until Hagrid brought it up that he realized how difficult this achievement was.

Harry scratched his head. He knew his own situation best; he knew, of course, that he wasn't very good at picking up girls.

But men won't admit it.

However, out of a sense of responsibility to Hagrid, Harry said, "Actually, I only know a little bit, and the key to it all was taught to me by Sirius. If you want to pursue Mrs. Maxim, I still suggest you ask Sirius for advice."

Harry continued, "I'll write to him tonight and tell him about you, asking him to write back and give you guidance, or perhaps come to Hogwarts in person to teach you. What do you think?"

"That's wonderful!" Hagrid rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I don't know how to thank you enough—Merlin's socks, I really..."

“We’re friends, no thanks are needed,” Harry said with a smile.

"Oh right."

Hagrid stood up, walked to the cabinet, opened it, and searched inside for a long time before finally pulling out three small wallets.

“This is a dragonskin wallet,” he said, handing the wallet to the three children. As Hermione took the wallet, he lowered his voice and added, “It’s a dragonskin wallet with a Seamless Stretching Charm—I remember you’ve always wanted one, but there wasn’t a way to buy one… I had three made for you…”

“This is too valuable, Hagrid.” Hermione said, but her eyes remained fixed on the wallet, showing no intention of looking away.

Hagrid, of course, knew that Hermione loved the wallet, so he chuckled and said, "The wallet isn't valuable; it's just a testament to our friendship—"

They thanked Hagrid again, stayed with him for a while, and then returned to the Great Hall with him.

Because later on, the announcement of the warriors for the Triwizard Tournament will take place.

Hermione really loves this little wallet, not only because it's made of high-quality materials, but also because it has the most important feature of seamless stretching.

It's important to know that these small items that have been imbued with the Invisible Stretching Charm are no longer allowed to be sold on the market.

In the evening, the students gathered in the auditorium, ready to hear Dumbledore announce the Last Warrior.

However, Dumbledore indicated that there was no rush to make a selection, and instead announced that dinner would be held first.

With students from other schools joining, the house-elves of Hogwarts began working overtime to prepare food that suited their tastes.

After all, those who know about this place understand that while locals may be used to the food, students at French schools like Beausbottom might not.

As we all know, Heaven is home to British police, French chefs, and German workers—while Hell is home to German police, French workers, and British chefs.

"It was really delicious today," Ron said, showing off his chicken leg.

"It's just a chicken leg, what's the difference between it and what you ate before?" Hermione gave him a disdainful look.

To everyone's surprise, Ron was unhappy with just that one sentence.

He muttered, "What's the difference? The difference is huge—not to mention anything else, I feel this chicken leg isn't as salty as it used to be."

"That's just psychological." Hermione didn't believe the words of a chicken leg connoisseur.

Ron was about to speak when he heard Professor McGonagall tap her teacup.

"Can you calm down?"

The noise in the auditorium subsided, and then the food on the table disappeared completely.

Dumbledore then stood up, and the Great Hall fell silent once more.

As everyone knows, the main event is about to begin—the warriors who will be participating in the Triwizard Tournament are about to be announced!
Karkaroff and Mrs. Maxim, flanking Dumbledore, looked just as nervous and expectant as everyone else.

Ludo Bagman grinned and winked at the students from various schools, while Mr. Crouch looked rather bored, almost annoyed.

“Well, the Goblet is about to make its decision,” said Dumbledore. “I estimate it will take another minute… Listen, after the champions’ names are announced, I want them to go to the top of the Great Hall, then down the faculty desk, and into that room next door—”

He pointed to the door behind the faculty desk and said again, "And that's where they will receive their initial guidance."

He pulled out his wand and waved it dramatically.

Except for the candles inside the jack-o'-lantern, all the other candles went out, plunging the auditorium into a state of dim light.

The Goblet of Fire now shone brightly, brighter than anything else in the entire auditorium, its sparkling blue-white flames almost blinding.

"It's coming!" Ron exclaimed excitedly. "Now, it's time to witness history!"

The flame in the goblet suddenly turned red again, crackling and sparking. Then, a tongue of fire shot into the air, from which flew a piece of charred parchment—everyone in the hall held their breath.

Dumbledore caught the parchment and held it far away so that he could read the words on it by the light of the flame.

The flames now returned to their bluish-white color.

"The champion of Durmstrang," he said in a clear and forceful voice, "is Viktor Krum."

At this moment, applause and cheers swept through the entire auditorium.

Viktor Krum stood up from Slytherin's table, puffed out his chest, and walked toward Dumbledore.

He turned right, walked along the faculty desk, and went through that door into the next room.

"Fantastic, Viktor!" Karkaroff roared, his voice booming so loudly that everyone in the auditorium could hear him. "I knew you were destined to be a warrior!"

Harry thought to himself, "If I didn't know the choice was predetermined, I would have been fooled by your superb acting skills."

After Viktor left the auditorium, the applause and conversations gradually subsided.

Now everyone's attention is focused on the wine glass again, and a few seconds later, the flame turns red again.

The second parchment, propelled by the flames, leaped out of the cup.

"The champion of Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

The girl who looked just like a Veela stood up gracefully, tossed her silver hair, and walked lightly between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Oh, look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said above the clamor, nodding to the other Beauxbatons representatives.

That said, the word "disappointment" is far too mild.

The two girls who were not chosen buried their heads in their arms and cried sadly, tears streaming down their faces.

When Fleur Delacour entered the next room, the auditorium fell silent again, this time with an intense, palpable excitement emanating from the silence.

Now it's the Hogwarts' heroes' turn...

At this moment, the Goblet of Fire turned red again, sparks flew, and flames shot high into the air. Dumbledore pulled the third parchment from the tip of the flames.

“The champion of Hogwarts,” he shouted, “is Harry Potter!”

The auditorium fell silent, then erupted in cheers even louder than the previous two times.

Dumbledore and the three heads of the house smiled and applauded Harry, while Snape, somewhat reluctantly and with a displeased expression, merely offered a perfunctory clapping.

Karkaroff was the same; he had heard of Harry's reputation, though he didn't know the extent of his magic, but the fact that he could defeat Voldemort in his prime as an infant was something he wasn't entirely sure about...

As for Mrs. Maxime, she genuinely applauded Harry.

Harry stood up, and the cheers in the Great Hall grew even louder.

"Dude! Well done!" Ron shouted, clapping his hands.

"Whoa!" Colin stood on the stool, taking pictures of Harry with his camera, looking every bit like a war correspondent.

"Potter is our king!" the Weasley twins cheered, even pulling out a few hard-to-lit fireworks, which instantly lit up the Great Hall with bursts of light.

Professor McGonagall's smile froze on her face as she glared at the two troublemakers.

Dumbledore, as the headmaster, not only showed no intention of punishing the two rascals, but seemed quite pleased. When he met the twins' eyes, Dumbledore even secretly gave them a thumbs-up as encouragement.

As a man of big occasions, Harry was not intimidated. Instead, he raised his hand to the cheering classmates around him, looking quite impressive.

He glanced at Cassandra and found that she was also looking at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of affection and helplessness.

When their eyes met, Cassandra suddenly looked extremely disgusted.

Proud.

Harry mentally made up his mind that he was going to punish this arrogant brat severely.

After receiving cheers from his classmates, Harry walked out of the Great Hall and headed in the direction of the two warriors.

As Hagrid passed the faculty seating area, he stood up and patted Harry on the shoulder.

“Well done, Harry!” he said with a good-natured smile.

He walked into a small room filled with portraits of wizards, and the fireplace directly opposite the door was burning brightly.

Durmstrang's warrior Viktor Krum and Beauxbatons' warrior Fleur Delacour sat around the fire.

There was no conversation between the two. Viktor leaned against the wall, seemingly deep in thought, much like the famous "Thinker" sculpture.

Noticing Harry's footsteps as he entered, Fleur turned her head and tossed her cascading silver hair.

Upon seeing that the child was slightly shorter than average, Furong raised an eyebrow.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Do you want us to go back?"

Clearly, Fleur was treating Harry as a student who was relaying messages.

“No, Dumbledore told me to wait here.” Harry sat between Fleur and Viktor and said to them, “I am a champion of Hogwarts.”

Upon hearing this, Viktor abruptly raised his head, his eyes flashing with surprise.

But his expression quickly returned to its somber state.

Fleur frowned almost imperceptibly. She couldn't understand why Hogwarts would allow such a...

She looked Harry up and down.

...A child so short, who looks no more than fifteen years old, came to die.

"Are you kidding me?" Furong asked.

Harry shrugged and didn't say anything.

Just then, Mr. Bagman arrived at the cabin.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Mr. Bagman said excitedly, looking at Harry, "it may seem incredible, but the one representing Hogwarts is this Harry Potter, a fourth-year student—he just turned fourteen this year."

Upon hearing this name, Viktor's expression darkened further.

oh……

He had heard of this name before; it was very famous and high-profile…

At such a young age, he defeated the Dark Lord...

But Viktor didn't take it seriously. He was just a guy who gained his reputation through his mother's sacrifice. As for his true abilities... Viktor didn't think a kid like Harry could kill the Dark Lord.

No, let alone kill him, Viktor even doubted whether he could last two moves against the Dark Lord.

Naturally, Viktor immediately concluded that the Goblet of Fire must have gone mad to choose Harry as the hero.

But he was not happy, because it was too ungentlemanly to defeat a child to win the championship of the Triwizard Tournament, and it wouldn't sound good if word got out, even if that child was the boy who had miraculously survived.

"Is there some mistake?" Viktor asked, frowning. "He's just a fourth-year student. He might not even be able to use a weapon properly. Are you suggesting he participate in the Triwizard Tournament? What's the difference between that and sending him to his death?"

Moody didn't hear this, otherwise he would have definitely jumped up and given him a taste of his own medicine.

Is this what you call 'can't even properly place a weapon to eliminate you'?
He placed it perfectly! He even used the Killing Curse skillfully...

“I think so too, Mr. Bagman,” Fleur asked in heavily nasal English. “Can such a little boy become a warrior?”

Little boy?
Harry didn't feel angry.

Anger often stems from a feeling of powerlessness over the current situation.

But Harry just wants to laugh right now.

It's just a few words; it won't hurt you.

“But that’s not something we can decide, gentlemen.” Mr. Bagman still wore a polite smile. “Once the champion of the Goblet of Fire is chosen, it cannot be changed unless the champion decides to withdraw and choose a new champion—so, Mr. Porter, what do you think?”

“I think I should give it a try,” Harry said with a smile and a modest tone.

Just then, the principals of the three schools arrived together.

Mrs. Maxime walked at the front, followed by Dumbledore and Karkaroff, and Barty Crouch was the last to enter.

Karkaroff's expression was not good; his gaze towards Harry was unpredictable, and no one knew what he was thinking.

Mr. Crouch's expression darkened further; he stared intently at Harry as if he were an Auror scrutinizing a criminal suspect.

"Alright, I need to congratulate you on becoming warriors representing your respective schools in the Triwizard Tournament."

Dumbledore stated bluntly that as the president of the International Federation of Wizards, he had the right to speak first.

His gaze swept over the three warriors, and he said with a smile, "Trust the judgment of the Goblet of Fire. It will not make baseless accusations and select a warrior who does not meet the criteria. As long as a warrior is recognized by it, he will always have some outstanding qualities."

At this point, Dumbledore said to them again, "So, what you three need to do now is prepare for the first event of the competition next month. But the first challenge you will face is not the first event, but the media interview that will come tomorrow."

"Media interviews?" Fleur caught Dumbledore's words sharply, asking in a nasal voice, "Are we still going to do media interviews? Why?"

(6000 words delivered, holiday over... more intense electroacupuncture treatments coming up again)
(End of this chapter)