I'm the King of Curry at Hogwarts

Chapter 326 End-of-Term Banquet

Harry was slurping his biscuit when Hagrid suddenly asked, "Are you sure you're really okay?"

"Is... everything alright?" This sudden question startled Harry, and he even hesitated a little—should I be alright?

Actually, this can be done.

"You're definitely not good, but you're better than anyone else." Hagrid's words were like a roundabout way of speaking, and if Harry didn't know his character, he might have really thought he was being sarcastic.

Harry didn't say anything, and he didn't know how to respond, so he simply remained silent.

"I knew he'd come back," Hagrid said. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up at him in surprise, while Louis remained calm, continuing to silently spit the rock cakes into Chromie's space.

He still tried to be considerate of Hagrid's feelings to avoid him thinking that he disliked his biscuits... Of course, he didn't stand on ceremony with Chromie.

One can imagine how interesting Chromie's expression must have been while tidying up her personal space.

Chromie: I may not be human, but you really are a dog...

Hagrid continued, "I've known all these years, Harry. I knew he was there, waiting for his chance. This was bound to happen. Well, now that it's happened, we have to accept reality. We have to fight. We can stop him from gaining power and ruling the world. That's Dumbledore's plan... Dumbledore, he's a truly remarkable man. As long as he's around, I'm not too worried."

Seeing the doubt on their faces, Hagrid raised his bushy eyebrows. "Sitting around worrying won't do any good," he said. "What's meant to happen will happen, and when it happens, we'll accept it. Harry, Dumbledore told me what you did."

Hagrid looked at Harry, his chest heaving: "If your father were still alive, he would have done the same. That's the highest praise I can give you."

Harry smiled back at Hagrid. It was the first time he had smiled in days.

"What did Dumbledore want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked suddenly. "That night, he sent Professor McGonagall to invite you and Mrs. Maxim to see him."

"Get me some work this summer," Hagrid said, "but it's a secret. I can't tell you, not even to you. Orim—oh, that is, what you call Mrs. Maxim—might work with me... well, I think she will, looks like I've convinced her."

"Can I ask if this has anything to do with Voldemort?" Harry asked curiously.

Hagrid shrank back in fear upon hearing the name.

"Probably," he said vaguely. "Who among you would like to come with me to see the last of the 'Bombtail' snails?" Seeing the expressions on their faces, he quickly added, "I'm just kidding—I'm just kidding… Hey! Don't run away!"

Unfortunately, he spoke too late. Upon hearing the name "Bomb Tail Snail," the three little ones sensed something was wrong and ran away.

Hagrid glanced back at Louis and said with a grin, "Hey, Louis, you're the best..."

The smile froze on his face as Louis calmly disappeared into Hagrid's cabin.

Just kidding, to hell with Hagrid's blast-tailed snails, they stink like hell, nobody wants to look at them...

Hagrid's hobbies were peculiar and beyond the reach of most people. Louis, of course, couldn't appreciate his aesthetic sense either, so he could only flee in disarray, looking utterly pathetic.

Soon it was time for the holidays, and celebrations were inevitable. News of Voldemort's return had not spread at Hogwarts, and no one publicized why Harry had disappeared or what had happened during the competition. Everyone thought something had gone wrong.

Like any other farewell party—well, actually, it was different. Every year, there were green Slytherin decorations, but this year Dumbledore didn't bother with them. He singled out Gryffindor; he laid his cards on the table.

The Great Hall was newly decorated in red, the color representing Gryffindor. Behind the faculty desks hung a curtain of roaring lions. It was obvious without even looking that this year's champion was definitely Gryffindor—even though their house points were more than 300 ahead, it was a foregone conclusion—after all, Harry of Gryffindor had won the Triwizard Tournament.

The real Mad-Eye Moody now sat at the faculty desk, his wooden legs and magical eyes back in their original positions. He seemed particularly nervous and anxious, and would jump as if startled whenever someone spoke to him.

It's not entirely his fault, after all, Moody had been locked in his box for months, which must have aggravated his fear of being attacked.

When Louis walked in, he saw that Karkaroff's seat was empty. As the ducks sat down, they wondered where Karkaroff was, how his mission at Durmstrang was going, and whether Voldemort was still harassing him like a stalker.

Mrs. Maxim was still there, sitting next to Hagrid. They were talking quietly. Across the table, next to Professor McGonagall, sat Snape. When Lewis looked at him, Snape nodded expressionlessly. Judging from his expression, he was definitely unhappy that Gryffindor had won the House Cup.

Sirius Black, a die-hard Gryffindor fan, sat beside him. He was dressed smartly and impeccably today, partly to celebrate Harry's victory, partly to celebrate Gryffindor's triumph in the House Cup, and partly because of his vanity. In terms of dressing up, Sirius was definitely several levels above Snape.

Emma and Ye Ziyan sat on the edge of the faculty seating area, whispering to each other as they looked up and scanned the people in the auditorium. When they saw Louis, they even started to laugh.

Louis looked left and right, wondering what the two women were laughing at—he was certain that at least he wasn't wearing his clothes inside out. First, Sakuya wouldn't do something like that to him, and second, he didn't feel any mysterious force choking him.

Without giving it much thought, he sat down in the Slytherin seats with Catherine and Christa.

"Next year, I'll graduate..." Catherine said suddenly with a touch of melancholy.

Louis then realized that Catherine was two years ahead of him—it seemed he should think of a way to get her to stay at the school as a teacher, or... perhaps become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? Anyway, Tom's curse had long been broken, and he had been doing just fine for so many years, hadn't he?

Besides, Chromie had already seen it, and the curse had indeed been broken by a mysterious and powerful force, so he wasn't worried about any problems with becoming the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Thinking of this, Louis put his hand on her shoulder and asked softly, "Have you considered staying on as a teacher at the university? Actually, staying on campus is pretty good... anyway, there's not much difference between staying on campus and staying off campus."

"This is a path I hadn't considered." Catherine thought about it carefully and, finding no problems with it, said with a smile, "Anyway, there's still a year left, so there's no rush to think about it now."

"Of course I'm in a hurry," Louis said immediately, glaring at Catherine. "Are you going to leave me alone at school? I never realized you could be so heartless."

Catherine smiled and whispered in his ear, "So, you're saying you couldn't bear to part with me, which is why you kept me teaching at the school?"

"Of course," Louis said without batting an eye, not feeling embarrassed at all—his skin was now much thicker than before, at least several orders of magnitude thicker. "So, you really intend to cruelly leave me alone at school?"

"Hmph, since you've asked me so sincerely, I'll reluctantly agree," Catherine said, reaching out her slender hand to scratch Louis's chin. "As long as Mr. Deer is obedient and his request isn't excessive, I'll definitely grant it."

"Then what is excessive?" Louis became interested and whispered two words in Catherine's ear. Catherine's face instantly turned red, and even her neck was tinged with a fiery blush.

She glared at Louis, pinched the soft flesh of his waist, but her mind kept replaying what Louis had just said.

How about... you try it when you get home? Actually, she was also a little itchy to try it.

Catherine was lost in thought when Professor Dumbledore suddenly stood up from his desk, interrupting her train of thought. The noise in the Great Hall instantly subsided, becoming completely silent.

"Another year has passed," Dumbledore said, looking at everyone. "It's over..."

He looked at Harry, smiled, and nodded slightly. "This year, we've experienced so much, hosting a grand tournament unlike any other in a century, and witnessing the birth of a new champion... That's why I decorated the Great Hall in Gryffindor's gold and red—after discussion among the school's professors, it was decided that Gryffindor would receive a thousand points for Harry Potter winning the Triwizard Tournament!"

His voice, like a little boy soaring over Hiroshima, instantly ignited the entire Great Hall. All the students rose to their feet, cheering for Harry—this was not only an honor for Gryffindor, but also for Hogwarts—the Triwizard Tournament championship had been snatched from the hands of strong contenders from the other two schools.

Even Catherine applauded Harry, though she wasn't particularly concerned about the championship; she was more interested in Louis.

Cedric was the loudest cheerer—unbeknownst to him, in another timeline, the auditorium would be decorated in gray and black, and everyone would be mourning his death.

But at least he's still alive, isn't he?

A tense murmur filled the Great Hall. Everyone stared at Dumbledore with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Only Harry in the Gryffindor seat and Draco in the Slytherin seat remained calm, their whispers gradually fading into silence.

Harry had witnessed it firsthand, while Draco... well, Draco had also heard about it; his father had told him.

"The Ministry of Magic doesn't want me to tell you this," Dumbledore continued. "Some of your parents may be shocked by my actions—either because they can't believe Voldemort has really returned, or because they think I shouldn't tell you, given your young age. However, I believe that the truth is always better than a lie, and it would be an insult to us to try to portray the events of the finals as an accident—it was a planned, premeditated, and organized heinous act orchestrated by the Death Eaters that directly led to Voldemort's resurrection."

At that moment, every face in the Great Hall was turned toward Dumbledore, and every face was filled with shock and fear.

"When talking about Voldemort, we must also mention another person," Dumbledore continued, "of course, I mean Harry Potter."

A commotion broke out in the Great Hall, with many people turning to look at Harry before quickly turning back to look at Dumbledore.

"Harry Potter has once again escaped Voldemort's clutches," Dumbledore's eyes shone brightly. "He is brave and fearless, inheriting the finest qualities of Gryffindor. When he was surrounded by Death Eaters and faced Voldemort's tyranny, he not only did not yield but also dared to resist, confronting Voldemort's challenge head-on. He has shown great courage in every aspect. Few wizards have been able to display such spirit in the face of Voldemort's tyranny. For this, I express my sincere respect to him."

Dumbledore turned solemnly to Harry and raised his goblet once more, as almost everyone in the Great Hall did, whispering Harry's name and toasting him.

After everyone was seated again, Dumbledore continued, "The purpose of the Triwizard Tournament is to enhance and promote mutual understanding within the wizarding world—given what is happening now—given Voldemort's resurrection, this connection is more important than ever before."

Dumbledore glanced at Mrs. Maxime and Hagrid, then at Fleur Delacour and her Beauxbatons classmates, and then at Viktor Krum and Durmstrang's classmates at the Slytherin table. Krum looked nervous, even a little scared, as if he thought Dumbledore was about to say something harsh.

"Every guest in this Great Hall," Dumbledore said, his gaze lingering on Durmstrang's students, "is welcome at any time, whenever they wish to return. I repeat to you all—given Voldemort's resurrection, we are strong only when united, and vulnerable when divided—Voldemort's methods of creating conflict and hostility are so sophisticated that we can only fight him to the end by demonstrating the same unbreakable friendship and trust…As long as we share the same goal and open our hearts, differences in customs and languages ​​will not be obstacles!"

Dumbledore's speech was passionate, but he seemed to have forgotten one thing—the phrase "unbreakable" is a bit...emmm, a bit of a joke. The last one to claim to be unbreakable has already fallen apart.

(End of this chapter)