Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones

Chapter 270 To save or not to save
With Tierra's help and guidance, the tent was quickly erected.

Tierra worked in crop molecular breeding in her previous life. Although it was mainly laboratory work, she sometimes needed to go out into the field to collect wild rice and wheat. She went out into the field two or three times a year on average, so she was quite knowledgeable about how to set up a tent.

“It might be a little crowded,” Mr. Weasley exclaimed excitedly after the tent was set up, “but I think everyone can squeeze in. Come and take a look.”

Tierra bent down and slipped under the tent flap, entering an old-fashioned three-bedroom house with a bathroom and kitchen.

“Oh, this is only temporary.” Mr. Weasley wiped his bald head with a handkerchief and peered into the four bunk beds in the bedroom. “I borrowed these from Perkins in the office. Poor fellow, he has back pain and can no longer camp.”

Mr. Weasley picked up the dusty water jug ​​and peered inside. “We need some water…”

"There's a tap marked on the map the Muggle gave us," said Ron, who followed Harry into the tent, seemingly oblivious to the unusual space inside. "It's on the other side of the camp."

“Alright, then you, Harry, Hermione, and Tierra go and fetch us some water, and then…” Mr. Weasley handed over the kettle and two stew pots they had brought, “…the rest of us go and gather some firewood to start a fire, okay?”

“But we have a stove!” Ron said. “Why can’t we just—”

“Ron, don’t forget the Muggle safety regulations!” Mr. Weasley said, his face beaming with excitement. “When real Muggles camp, they make fires outdoors. I’ve seen it.”

"About this..." Tiera opened her mouth, but after thinking for a moment, she had to shut up.

Clearly, Mr. Weasley no longer cares about convenience and is now eager to experience Muggle life.

They quickly toured the girls' tents, finding them only slightly smaller than the boys', and then Tyra, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, carrying water bottles and stew pots, set off across the camp.

Just then, the sun rose and the thin mist gradually dissipated, revealing tents all around them, stretching as far as the eye could see.

They slowly moved between the tents, looking around with great interest.

Every now and then, you can see adult wizards emerging from their tents to start making breakfast.

Some glanced around furtively, then lit the fire with their wands; others struck matches, their faces filled with doubt, as if they thought it would definitely not work.

Three African male wizards sat there talking seriously, all dressed in long white robes, roasting something that looked like a wild rabbit over a blazing purple fire.

Another group of middle-aged American male wizards sat there chatting and laughing, a gleaming banner hanging high between their tents—

Iphamoni Magic Academy.

They also ran into their classmates from Hogwarts at the campsite—

Neville Longbottom, the Gryffindor swordsman; Simon Finegan, the explosive genius; and Luna Lovegood, the elf princess—

"Hey, Luna!" Tierra waved excitedly and ran towards Luna at the end of the water-fetching team, leaving Ron, Harry, and Hermione standing there dumbfounded.

"How was your summer vacation?" Tierra asked.

“Very good,” Luna said with a smile. “And you? Your hand…”

Luna glanced at Tiera's right arm—

“It’s all set.” Tiera raised her mechanical right arm and waved it in front of Luna. “It works much better than my old one.”

"How can it be better than the old one?" Luna asked. "Does it hurt?"

“It doesn’t hurt,” Tierra said. “It’s faster to get this arm installed than to tighten a screw.”

Luna: ...

“I was… I was asking about when your arm was blown off… never mind,” Luna said. “By the way, my father and I just ran into Mr. Diggory. When my father talked about you, Mr. Diggory and Cedric Diggory seemed a little awkward. Did something happen?”

“It’s nothing serious,” Tiera said, then looked into the distance with a vacant gaze. “It’s just his death star shining.”

"..." Luna opened her mouth, then silently closed it again. Seemingly unsure how to respond to Tiera's words, she could only silently join the end of the water queue.

Tiera knew what Luna was thinking—

The kind little witch was already pondering what Tyrell meant by the ominous star and how to save Cedric.

It has to be said, Cedric was truly a perfect senior. He was tall and handsome, excelled academically and athletically, was upright and humble, brave and gentle—he was practically a perfect person.

So perfect it seems as if it doesn't exist in the real world, so perfect—

The significance of his existence, his entire perfect life, seems to be destined to be buried in that cemetery.

Throughout the entire Harry Potter series, Cedric is essentially a tool used to end Harry's childhood. All his admirable qualities, his past, and his father's desperate cries after his death collectively create a dramatic tragedy.

These beautiful things are meant to be destroyed for the readers to see.

But this is the real world, and honestly, it would have been easy for Tierra to save Cedric.

Break his legs, or snap his fingers one by one.

He could be saved with ease—

But it's not necessary.

Just as Tierra said, Cedric was a tool.

Only if he dies, or rather, someone in the Triwizard Tournament dies, can the plot proceed smoothly. Otherwise, if Harry were to simply say that Voldemort has returned without any evidence, given the Ministry of Magic's track record, they would probably send Harry to Azkaban immediately.

If no one had been killed, the Ministry of Magic, which controls the Daily Prophet, could have immediately classified the incident.

At that point, Dumbledore's army will probably really be reduced to just a handful of soldiers.

Aside from Ron and Hermione, and the Weasleys, no one else will join Dumbledore's army.

Therefore, maintaining the original plot is the most advantageous thing for Tyella at this point.

A conflict between the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry of Magic must be created so that Tyrell can use Harry's Dumbledore's Army to expand her own power.

And during the Ministry of Magic's chaotic battle at the end of his fifth year, he completed his ascension to godhood.

In other words, someone must die in the Goblet of Fire; if Cedric isn't there, someone else represents Hogwarts.

So, it's better to die for your friend than for me. You, who were going to die anyway, should go and send him off. Blame Rowling if you must. Go in peace and accept your fate. Your wife Harry will take care of you.

……

Meanwhile, inside a special tent in the center of the camp.

“Ah, Mr. Crouch.” A short, stout middle-aged wizard entered and walked toward another wizard in the center of the tent. “What’s so urgent, Mr. Crouch?”

“We received a reply from Mr. Dumbledore,” Batty Crouch said. “He wants to lower the age limit for the competition a little.”

"Downgrade?" asked the short, stout wizard, Ludobagman. "Downgrade to how old?"

“Fourteen years old,” Barty Crouch said.

"Why?" Ludobagman asked.

"Because...because Dumbledore said that there is a very talented student in the fourth grade this year...he wants this student to participate."

Thank you. Have you eaten today? Vote for January.
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(End of this chapter)