I'm the King of Curry at Hogwarts

"Alright, Harry." Cedric stepped forward, smiling as he extended an invitation amidst Ron and Hermione's wary gazes, "Want to grab a drink? If you'd like."

"Oh... um, sure, sure." Harry didn't find this mature feeling bad and immediately accepted the invitation. To be honest, he didn't want to strain his relationship with Hufflepuff House too much.

To be honest, Harry himself felt he was in the wrong. He was clearly in the age group not allowed to participate in the competition, yet he still caused this mess. If it weren't for the support of his Gryffindor classmates, he probably would have wanted to die to atone for his sins.

Harry is actually quite sensitive and vulnerable inside.

Seeing their own champions leave with the Gryffindor champions, the Hufflepuff badgers stopped mocking Gryffindor and silently removed their badges from their chests, returning to their seats to continue eating.

The Gryffindors didn't care. They all pointed at the "Potter Stinky Shit" badge on their chests, laughing so hard their stomachs were almost visible.

"Hey, George Stinky," Fred said with a grin, pointing at his twins, George. "It's a shame Percy graduated, otherwise we would definitely have made a badge like that too, called—Wetherby Stinky."

"You're still hung up on the Wetherby joke, aren't you?" Louis rolled his eyes and retorted.

"Don't you think the nickname Wetherby is ironic?" George chuckled. "Think about it, he idolizes Mr. Crouch so much, but what about Mr. Crouch? He can't even remember his name... Good heavens, that's a disaster. If it happened to me, I'd rather kiss Lee Jordan's ass."

"Oh my god, George, you actually had designs on my ass!" Lee Jordan exclaimed incredulously. "I consider you a brother, and you actually wanted to kiss my ass!"

“That’s what good brothers do,” Seamus Finigan interjected. “But you’re in a bit of danger, George.”

"You've broken the law, do you know that?" George raised his index finger at those around him. "I'm so heartbroken, you all ganged up on me..."

"Stop pretending, George, I'd rather believe my grandma never sends me howling letters again!" Neville suddenly blurted out, causing a moment of silence, followed by a burst of laughter from the entire Gryffindor seating area.

"My God, Neville, you really are..." Ron thought for a long time but couldn't think of a word that would suit Neville.

"A dog that bites doesn't bark," Simon retorted, only to be slapped on the shoulder by Angelina beside him.

"How dare you talk like that, you little brat!"

Angelina's expression was fierce; she had inherited the fine tradition of Gryffindor women hitting hard, and at this moment, she was not fighting alone.

Seamus lowered his head in humiliation. He dared not touch Angelina; who knew if the force with which she hit the Quaffle would hit his head instead?

Gryffindor has always been quite adept at recognizing and adapting to changing circumstances.

Courage doesn't mean reckless blindness; sometimes, admitting defeat also requires a lot of courage.

About half an hour later, Harry and Cedric walked back arm in arm. It was clear that they were both very happy, or at least they thought the other was a good person and could be friends.

Hufflepuff and Gryffindor shook hands and made peace again. After all, the two "leaders" of the house had become sworn brothers, so there was no reason for them to continue their hostile stance.

Ron was a bit paranoid after Louis's words. Now, when he's around Harry, he always acts like an unprofessional bodyguard, looking at everyone as if they were some kind of villain with ill intentions.

In the afternoon, Rita Skeeter arrived at Hogwarts. The Triwizard Tournament is a major event, a once-in-a-lifetime occasion in the wizarding world, so it would be a shame not to come and cover it up and ride the wave of its popularity.

Rita Skeeter's main purpose for this trip was Harry. Just think about it: the boy who survived a disaster, plus the youngest champion in the history of the Triwizard Tournament. With all these gimmicks combined, this would be fantastic news.

To be honest, Ms. Skeeter has never cared much about money. After all, Louis usually allocates a considerable amount of funding to the newspaper. What she values ​​most is the topicality of the news, which is a kind of self-realization and self-satisfaction for a passionate journalist like her.

In this world, nothing is more satisfying than spiritual fulfillment.

The interviews were conducted in the order of the Goblet of Fire. When it was Catherine's turn, everyone could clearly see that Rita Skeeter, who had been looking gossipy, immediately changed to a serious expression.

There's no way around it; she's the boss's girlfriend. If she upsets him, she'll be the one who suffers.

The interview was simple, consisting of a few routine and standard questions. She then embellished the rest herself, while Catherine answered in front of her. Catherine began to expand on the interview in her notebook, especially emphasizing the touching love story of this Slytherin heroine and her boyfriend, who supported each other along the way.

In short, Ms. Skeeter was very good at flattery, praising both sides very well without overemphasizing one and ignoring the other, maintaining a very fair balance.

Rita wasn't afraid that Louis would be unhappy after seeing the newspaper; in fact, she dared to write it this way partly because of Louis's hints.

After Catherine's interview ended, Ludo Bagman jumped up and leaped forward: "Ah! He's here, the seventh champion... Come in, Harry! Come in, there's nothing to worry about, it's just the wand testing ceremony, the other referees will be here soon—by the way, Rita Skeeter from the Daily Prophet will give you a short interview."

"Huh?" Harry was a little surprised. There were too many factors to consider, and he didn't know which one to pay attention to. He could only let out a confused "Ah!" like a silly goose.

"We need to check if your wands are fully functional and in good working order, because they will be your most important equipment in the upcoming competitions," Mr. Bagman said earnestly. "The experts are upstairs with Dumbledore. After your interview with Ms. Skeeter, go upstairs to check your wands... Here, is Ms. Skeeter." He pointed to a witch in a magenta robe, "She is writing interviews with the champions for the Daily Prophet, as well as some short articles about the Triwizard Tournament."

"It may not be a small matter, Ludo," Rita Skeeter said casually, her eyes fixed on Harry as if trying to see right through him.

A moment later, she added, "Before we begin, could I have a few words alone with Harry? The youngest warrior, you know, to add a little flair to my little essay."

At this point, she emphasized the word "short article," as if protesting against what Mr. Bagman had just said about short articles.

"No problem, of course no problem!" Mr. Bagman exclaimed. "It's just—I wonder if Harry will object?"

"Ah... um, I'm fine." Harry wanted to object, but he was too embarrassed to say so.

“Great,” Rita Skeeter said, reaching out to grab Harry’s arm and opening a door beside them. “We can’t stay there; it’s too noisy over there for an interview. Can we just say a few words in this cubicle, Harry?”

Harry wasn't sure whether he should object or not. He looked towards Louis for help, only to find that Louis had already gotten up and was about to go upstairs with Catherine.

Well, now he had to rely on himself. Harry cheered himself up and followed Ms. Skeeter to the small dark room next door.

Louis, of course, noticed Harry and Rita's little antics, but he wasn't worried. Rita was one of them and wouldn't harm Harry; she'd just write some trivial report in the Daily Prophet.

The interview was completed quickly, and Harry was released shortly afterward. His eyes were swollen like mosquito coils, and if Cedric hadn't caught him in time, he probably would have fallen as soon as he stepped out of the dark room.

The place for testing wands, though described as being upstairs, was actually a small attic-style second floor. Behind a velvet-covered table sat five judges—Professor Dumbledore, Karkaroff, Madam Maxime, Ludo Bagman, and Mr. Zlatan Lovegood, along with the old acquaintance, the wandmaker Ollivander.

"Please allow me to introduce Mr. Ollivander," Dumbledore said to the warriors. "The students at Hogwarts are familiar with him, but I think the warriors of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang may not. He is the best wandmaker in the British wizarding world, and he will now inspect your wands to ensure they are in good condition before the competition."

"Miss Delacour, would you like to go first?" Mr. Ollivander said, walking to the open space in the center of the room.

Fleur Delacour gracefully approached Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Hmm..." Mr. Ollivander pondered for a moment, then, as if manipulating a conductor's baton, he twirled the wand between his slender fingers, causing it to emit many pink and gold sparks. He then brought the wand close to his eyes, examining it carefully.

"Not bad," he said softly, "nine and a half inches...very strong...made of maple...contains...oh my god!"

At this point, Ollivander appropriately showed a slight surprise.

"Its core is a Veela's hair," Fleur said with a smile. "Of course, it's my grandmother's hair."

“That’s right,” said Mr. Ollivander. “Yes, of course. I myself have never used Veela hair. I find wands made from Veela hair too sensitive and capricious, but everyone has their own preferences, and since it suits you…”

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers lightly over the wand, clearly checking for scratches and dents, then whispered, "Orchids in bloom!"

As he chanted the incantation, a bouquet of flowers bloomed at the tip of the wand.

"Very good, you're in good shape," Mr. Ollivander praised, gathering the flowers and handing them, along with his wand, to Fleur. "Mr. Diggory, it's your turn."

This was said to Cedric.

Fleur returned to her seat with a light and graceful movement, giving Cedric a sweet smile as she passed by.

Ollivander took the wand Cedric handed him, paused for a moment, then laughed in realization, "Ah, this is my product, isn't it? Yes, I remember it very clearly, there was a hair in it plucked from the tail of a particularly beautiful male unicorn... it must have been five or six feet long. I plucked the unicorn's tail hair, and he almost pierced a transparent hole in me with his horn."

"12 and a quarter inches, made of elm wood, very flexible, in excellent condition... Do you take care of it regularly?"

"I just wiped it down last night," Cedric said, grinning warmly.

Mr. Ollivander exhaled a string of silvery smoke rings from the tip of Cedric's wand, which drifted from one end of the house to the other. He nodded in satisfaction, returned the wand to Cedric, and called the next person's name.

After examining Marilyn Chabanor's wand, Ollivander handed it back to her and said to Catherine, "Miss Vore, it's your turn."

Catherine stood up, tossed her beautiful blonde hair, walked up to Mr. Ollivander, and handed him her wand.

"Hmm, it looks familiar, yet it's not quite the same..." Mr. Ollivander took the wand from Catherine, his brow furrowing for a long time before finally relaxing. "Cypress wood, eleven inches, unicorn tail hair... Ha, if I remember correctly, this should be the one I sold to Mr. Mountbatten."

“This wand was a gift from my boyfriend, Mr. Ollivander,” Catherine added. “The guy you’re talking about.”

"Hmm, no wonder." Mr. Ollivander chuckled, examining the wand closely before saying, "It seems your little boyfriend is quite remarkable. I don't know what interesting things he's added to this wand, but at least... I've never seen a wand more outstanding—the tip of this wand is a vibrant leaf, yet I can clearly feel its significant amplifying effect on my fire magic."

"Love, the greatest magic in the world," Mr. Ollivander muttered incoherently before reciting a spell.

"Lumos! (Flashing lights)"

That was it! Like a flashbang exploding, a blinding beam of light burst from the tip of the wand. Catherine and Ollivander were hit first, but because Catherine was the owner of the wand, she was unharmed. However, Mr. Ollivander was in a terrible state; the intense light brought tears to his eyes, and he covered one eye with one hand. But being extremely professional, he didn't forget to return the wand to Catherine.

Not only Ollivander, but everyone in the room who was staring at the wand was slightly shocked by the flickering light. They covered their eyes, and tears involuntarily streamed down their faces.