Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones

Chapter 334 "Fantastic Beasts Expert"

After the first event of the three-way competition was over, December arrived quickly.

December brought strong winds, rain, and snow to Hogwarts.

Although there was always a draft in the castle during winter, Harry was always grateful for the warm fire and thick walls inside whenever he walked past Durmstrang's ship moored on the lake.

“I really don’t know how they’re going to get through this winter,” Harry said, half worried and half relieved.

“Demstrang is said to be located on the Arctic ice sea,” Tierra said. “They’re much more resistant to the cold than we are. Let’s hurry, or Hagrid will be late for his class.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry quickened his pace, glancing at Durmstrang’s large ship before leaving—

The large ship rocked and swayed in the gale, its black sails billowing and dancing in the dark night sky.

When he and Tyrell finally reached Hagrid's teaching grounds, Harry noticed that Hagrid was constantly supplying Madam Maxim's horses with their favorite single malt whisky.

A strong smell of alcohol wafted from the feed trough in the corner of the makeshift stable, making the students in the Magical Creatures Protection class feel a little dizzy.

This is not helpful, because they are still taking care of the horrible blasting snails and need to use their collective wisdom.

“I’m not sure if they’re hibernating.” In this lesson, Hagrid told his students, who were shivering in the pumpkin patch, “Let’s try it and see if they want to sleep… We’ll put them in these boxes…”

Now only ten blast-tailed snails remain. Clearly, their cannibalistic instincts haven't been completely eradicated.

Now each of them is nearly six feet long. Their thick gray protective layer, their powerful legs that swing wildly, their tails that constantly explode and breathe fire, and their spikes and suckers—all of these combined make the Blasttail Snail the most disgusting thing Harry has ever seen.

The students stared listlessly at the large boxes Hagrid had brought out, which were filled with pillows and fluffy blankets.

"We'll bring them in," Hagrid said, "then put the lid on and see what happens."

As a result, they discovered that the tamarin does not hibernate and does not like being stuffed into a box lined with pillows and covered.

Hagrid quickly shouted, "Don't be nervous, don't be nervous!"

Because the snails were rampaging through the pumpkin, the ground was already littered with smoldering fragments of boxes.

Most students—

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle led the way, having already escaped through the back door into Hagrid's cabin and locked themselves inside.

Tiera chuckled and shrugged, leaning against a giant pumpkin as she watched them bustle about.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and some other classmates stayed outside to help Hagrid.

“Aren’t you going to help them?” Newtscamander asked.

Since the first game, Tierra has run into Newtscamander at school almost every day.

Especially in the class on the protection of magical animals.

Newt Scamander seemed particularly interested in Hagrid's blast-tailed snail, chatting with Tierra while taking notes.

He would occasionally go up and give Hagrid some pointers.

Of course, Hagrid wholeheartedly accepted the guidance of this magizoologist, and would even occasionally look at Newtscamander fiddling with the same look Ron gave Viktor Krum.

Tierra and Newtscamander sat on the giant pumpkin, watching as Hagrid and the other students worked together to subdue the nine Blasttails and tie them up in the open space in front of Hagrid's gate. However, they paid a heavy price, suffering countless burns and cuts all over their bodies.

Finally, only one skrewt was left.

"Hey, don't scare it!" Hagrid shouted as Harry and Ron sprayed sparks at the Blasttail with their wands—

The blast-tailed snail menacingly approached them, its spines arching and trembling slightly—

“Tie its spikes with a rope, and it won’t hurt the other Blasttails!” “Yeah, we don’t want that to happen!” Ron shouted angrily, as he and Harry retreated to the base of Hagrid’s hut, still waving their wands and using the sparks at the tips to keep the Blasttails away.

“I thought you should be the one going up to help,” Tiera said, swinging her legs boredly as she sat atop the giant pumpkin. “You should be quite interested in this newly discovered species.”

“Oh, I don’t really know much about these blast-tailed snails, so I’d like to observe them a bit more,” Newtscamander said, pulling out a notebook.

“By the way, Tiera,” Newt said in his kindest tone, “now that we’ve spent so much time together, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“Me?” Tierra looked at Newtscamander with some surprise.

But Newt Scamander just kept his head down, his shoulders slumped, staring at the empty notebook.

“You know, it’s about your life, your past, oh right, you’re in your adolescence now, right? And tell me about your physical condition… and your mental condition.” Newtscamander seemed a little nervous, avoiding Tiera’s gaze, like a child who had done something wrong.

“Master, mainly, mainly Dumbledore asked me to be your mental counselor during the Triwizard Tournament… yes, that’s right, mental counselor,” Newtscamander said. “And a temporary guardian, to help you strategize for the last two events of the Triwizard Tournament.”

“So we’d better get to know each other,” Newtscamander added.

“Alright,” Tierra said helplessly, it was just Dumbledore’s task after all.

Dumbledore now has two thorns in his side—

Voldemort's plot to resurrect himself, and the Tarot Society's evil scheme.

Although the full picture of Dumbledore is still unknown, after so many hints from Tyrell, he must have a general idea in mind.

As for the Tarot Society's evil plans...

Dumbledore must have already pressed Grindelwald for answers.

And Grindelwald—

It would be a miracle if they knew about the Tarot Society's evil plans.

Even Tyrell herself had no idea what evil plans the Tarot had in store.

So, in order to learn about the Tarot Society's evil plans, Dumbledore sent Hufflepuff, a socialite, to spy on Tyrell.

I reckon he wanted to uncover the Tarot Society's evil plans through his own efforts.

“Okay, very good.” Newt took out a pen and said, “So, the first question…”

“Tiera, you’re fourteen now. Tell me, when was your first wet dream?” Newt asked.

Tiera: ? ? ?
"What?" Tierra looked at Newtscamander in confusion, while Newtscamander was looking back at her with unwavering determination—

The physiological and psychological development patterns of these fantastic creatures are closely related to their sexual maturation cycles.

Tierra: ...

"Hmm, very good, very good. The way Tiera looks at me shows that he has established initial trust with me."

Tierra clenched her fist, and just then, a middle-aged woman dressed in rustic clothes emerged from the forest beside the pumpkin patch—

“Oh my goodness, this looks hilarious.” The middle-aged woman, or rather Rita Skita, leaned against the fence of Hagrid’s vegetable garden, enjoying the farce.

Today she was wearing a thick magenta robe with a purple suede collar, and a crocodile skin handbag was hanging on her arm.

Tiera drew her wand, and a beam of red light shot toward Ritaskita.

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(End of this chapter)