Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones

Chapter 274 Give a push

“I haven’t seen such a daring little wizard as you in a very, very long time,” Cornelius Fudge said seriously. “Using magic outside of school in front of me, the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Minister of the Oro Command?”

“Mr. Lockhart, you should know,” Barty Crouch said sternly, “that I can break your wand right now.”

"I'm sorry, I was wrong." Tierra bowed in apology.

But at the same time, he was tightly clutching a suitcase to his chest with both hands—

It contained the gold coins that Tiera had just collected.

Tiera had only roughly counted it; it was about seven or eight thousand Galleons.

Tierra isn't exactly short of money right now.

He just can't stand waste.

At the same time, a monocle appeared behind the crowd whose gold coins had been stolen, accompanied by another chilling suction force—

The angry crowd calmed down instantly.

Dementors feed on happiness.

But that doesn't mean they can only absorb happiness.

Just as a human mouth can eat both food and excrement, a Dementor's mouth can absorb all emotional power, except that emotions other than happiness are just excrement to a Dementor.

Tiera is currently eating shit while holding the "Dementor Eye" in her mouth.

Although Tierra uses magic outside of school, it's clear that the "benevolent" Cornelius Fudge wouldn't actually let Barty Crouch break Tierra's wand—

Let's first look at the buffs stacked on Tiera:

Harry Potter's best friend, the adopted son of the famous author and adventurer Gilderoy Lockhart, the favorite student of the greatest White Witch in history, a Muggle wizard, a disabled person, and a pioneer in the fight against Voldemort.
Tiera felt that if he could add a mixed-race person, a Heqijinmumu, a royal concubine, and a gay and transgender person as buffs, he could run for president in the United States.

So in the end, Cornelius Fudge only gave Tiera a heavy reprimand, without confiscating Tiera's pile of gold coins.

On the field, as the opening performance ended, the goblins and velvets slowly descended to both sides of the field, sat down cross-legged, and prepared to watch the competition.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, a warm welcome to the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! Let me introduce you to—Dimitrov!"

A figure in red riding a flying broomstick flew into the stadium from an entrance below. He flew so fast that he left only a blur in the air, which earned him enthusiastic cheers from the Bulgarian team's supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second figure in bright red robes flew out.

"Zograf! Levsky! Vokanov! Volkov! Next up—Krum!"

"It's him, it's him!" Ron shouted, following Krum with his panoramic binoculars, and Harry quickly pointed his own binoculars at him as well.

Viktor Krum was a large, dark-skinned man with a healthy bronze complexion, a large hooked nose, and thick, dark eyebrows, making him look like a giant eagle.

It's hard to believe he's only eighteen.

"Now, please welcome the Irish national Quidditch team!" Bagman shouted loudly. "Entering the field are—Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mallett! Moran! Quigley! And, and—Linzi!"

Seven blurry green figures flew toward the arena. Harry turned a small button on the side of the panoramic telescope, slowing down the team's movements and making out that their flying brooms were all marked with "Firebolt," and that their names were embroidered in silver thread on their backs.

"And our referee today, who has flown all the way from Egypt, is the highly respected president of the International Quidditch Federation—Hassan Mustafa!"

A short, lean wizard, dressed in a pure gold robe that matched the color of the stadium, strode towards the arena.

He was completely bald on top, but a large beard and a silver whistle peeked out from under it.

He had a large wooden box tucked under one arm and his flying broom tucked under the other.

Mustafa straddled his flying broomstick and kicked the wooden crate open—four balls shot into the air in an instant:

A bright red Quake, two black gliding balls, and that tiny, winged golden Snitch.

As Mustafa blew his whistle, the Quidditch World Cup final finally began—and the crowd erupted in cheers once again.

However, the cheers quickly became sparse.

Tierra was overjoyed; he hadn't felt this way in a long time. It was like the first time he'd ever eaten at a buffet, where he could have any emotion he wanted—happiness, anger, and every other emotion imaginable.

Harry was just as happy; he had never seen such a wonderful Quidditch match.

He pressed the panoramic telescope tightly against his glasses, so much so that the glasses sank into the bridge of his nose, and he even forgot his earlier promise to share the telescope with Tierra.

Quidditch players' speed is simply unbelievable—

The Chaser kept passing the Quaffle to the other players so fast that Bagman only had time to call out their names.

Harry twisted the slow-motion knob on the right side of the panoramic binoculars again, and then pressed the match analysis button on top. He immediately saw the slow motion, with some purple text flashing on the screen. At the same time, the noise of the audience shook his diaphragm.

"Eagle Head Offensive Formation." Harry read the words on the match analysis button at the top, and saw three Irish chasers sprinting close together, with Troy in the middle, and Marlett and Moran slightly ahead, all three closing in on the Bulgarian player.

Then, the words "Boskov Tactic" flashed on the screen, showing Troy pretending to rush up with the Quaffle to distract Bulgarian Chaser Ivanova, before throwing the ball to Moran.

One of Bulgarian batters, Volkov, swung his bat at the incoming loitering ball, sending it towards Moran; Moran ducked to avoid the loitering, then threw a Quaffle, which was caught by Lefsky hovering below.

"Troy scores!" Bagman roared, and the entire stadium erupted in cheers and applause, shaking the arena. "Ten to zero, Ireland takes the lead!"

"What?" Harry shouted anxiously, searching everywhere through the panoramic telescope. "But Lefsky took the Quaffle!"

"Harry, you're going to miss the best part if you don't watch at normal speed!" Hermione shouted. Even Hermione was infected by the joyful atmosphere around her. When Troy scored, she jumped up and down excitedly, waving her arms incessantly, as Troy circled the field.

It looks like a big monkey with a brown broom-shaped head.

"Tsk tsk tsk." Tierra sighed as she looked at Hermione. Although Hermione had started to develop, she was still quite different from the beautiful Emma Watson of her previous life.

Especially now that Hermione doesn't like to tidy up much, the gap between Hermione Granger and "Emma Watson" has widened even further.

Therefore, Tyella couldn't understand why some adults, after transmigrating, would act like horny male dogs and insist on having sex with Hermione in her infancy.

Isn't it better to just make money peacefully? Isn't it better to use PUA (Pick-Up Artist) tactics like Voldemort? Isn't it better to quietly stir up trouble and then watch the drama unfold?
Tiera has already prepared a complete plan for watching the Three Kingdoms tournament unfold.

For example, how to further gain Harry's trust when he is boycotted by the whole school, thereby establishing one's future position as the leader in Dumbledore's army.

Another example is expanding their influence by predicting the events and outcomes of the three-way battle.

Or, how could one use the identity of "Giddy Lockhart" to exploit "Cedric's death" to further blackmail and extract benefits from the Ministry of Magic?

Tiera is already itching to get involved, eager to become the mastermind behind the scenes and enjoy the show.

……

Meanwhile, in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, Dumbledore opened the reply from Barty Crouch and began to read it carefully.

“Sigh…” Dumbledore sighed and said to Fawkes, “Barty Crouch does not agree to lower the age limit for competition.”

"Ah—" Phoenix Fox exclaimed to indicate that she understood.

Dumbledore opened a drawer in his desk and took out a parchment that looked like a contract.

Dumbledore took out a pair of scissors, neatly cut off the signature at the end of the contract, folded it carefully, and stored it in a small box on his desk.

“If our little genius is unwilling to break the rules… we’ll have to give him a push, won’t we?” Dumbledore said with a smile. “Before deciding what to do with him, we need to know exactly what he’s capable of.”

"We need to know exactly what he is..."

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(End of this chapter)