Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 392 Other Channels
"It is now the evening of October 31, 1994, Halloween night. Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and Ilvermorny schools are gathered here, and the Holy Flame burns brightly in the Goblet of Fire. Tonight we will select the true warriors."

"I am journalist and photographer Colin Crevey, and I will document this historic moment!"

Colin, standing at the door, held up his camera and snapped a picture of the bustling auditorium, then another of the Goblet of Fire in the foyer: "Hufflepuff's representative, Cedric Diggory, is delivering parchment."

“Theodore Nott of Slytherin registered half an hour ago, and Roger Davis of Ravenclaw submitted his parchment fifteen minutes ago. Only Gryffindor remains, and we don’t have any lowerclass representatives yet,” Dennis Crevy said in a low voice.

The students who heard the report looked at Harry and the others.

"The tests set by the deans have no age limit. Theodore Nott is the same age as us. If he can pass the test and get the application form, then Harry, you can definitely do it too."

Parvati Petil looked at the boys sitting together, their eyes drooping and heads hanging low: "If you had been more patient, you could have tried again during the day. Now that Professor McGonagall has disqualified us, we can only pin our hopes on Hermione and Angelina."

"Dean, don't you think her eyes seem to be implying that we're a burden to Harry and Ron?"

Simo muttered to himself, his head bowed, not daring to look Parvati in the eye.

“I admit that he’s dragging Harry down, but Ron… isn’t he one of us?” Dean tilted his head.

Ron, who was standing next to Seamus, glared at him angrily: "Who do you think you are?"

"They're here, George and Fred are back."

Suddenly a noisy commotion broke out, and the Gryffindor students stopped talking. George and Fred walked out on the marble staircase with their heads held high, while Hermione pursed her lips, an uncontrollable smile playing on her lips.

The four house tables fell silent. The Halloween dinner was about to begin. The eligible young wizards had already submitted their registration forms. Only a few Gryffindors remained on the stairs, perhaps originally planning to be the last to appear.

George and Fred asked Arya, who was coming over, for two quills. They gave one to Hermione and kept the other for themselves.

The Gryffindor students below sixth grade realized this was their last hope, stopped what they were doing, ceased their chatter, and cast expectant glances their way.

"They really succeeded?" Ron asked nervously, swallowing hard.

"George and Fred...both of them succeeded?" A girl next to me asked in surprise.

"Let me introduce it to you!"

The Weasley twins straightened their backs, holding up a quill pen in one hand and a piece of parchment in the other, drawing the attention of all the students: "Weasley Workshop's new autumn arrivals: quill pens to make up the numbers!"

This wasn't the first time they had become the center of attention, displaying their confidence at any time. While the students from the other three schools might still have some expectations, the young wizards from Hogwarts had long seen through their true colors and were suspicious from the very beginning.

Their impression of the twins proved to be correct; the two were naturally cheerful and lively, and rarely did anything conventional.

Under the watchful eyes of students from the four schools, the quill pen was raised high.

George and Fred straightened their backs proudly and began to enthusiastically describe the benefits of the quill pen.

School professors almost always assign length requirements for papers, and most students have racked their brains to reach the word count. The word count quill pen can automatically expand a sentence, turning a few words into paragraphs or even articles of dozens or hundreds of words.

For a moment, the students forgot to complain about their outrageous behavior. Several students immediately went over to ask about the price, while students from other schools had a glint in their eyes, looking interested.

Only a very few students noticed that the little witch, with her lips pursed, quietly walked to the entrance hall, tiptoed slightly, and placed the completed registration form into the Goblet of Fire.

The yellowed parchment was dropped into the wooden cup, and a blue-white flame suddenly shot up, engulfing the paper. The flame turned red and sparks flew out.

"Ron, Hermione got the application form..."

"I wonder which dean's test she passed?"

Harry and Ron both felt a pang of bitterness, regretting that they hadn't refused the suggestion to go out at night the night before. They were trapped in the greenhouse all night, and when Professor McGonagall came looking for them, they were disqualified from the challenge.

……

The banquet officially began at 7 p.m.

A light rain was falling outside, and the fireplace radiated warmth. Because of Halloween, the auditorium had been decorated with new decorations. Hundreds of live bats hovered around the enchanted ceiling, and pumpkin lanterns with carved facial features grinned in the corners.

Hagrid, who grows pumpkins, sat next to Madam Maxim, dressed in a sharp suit and tie, drinking mead one glass after another, his face flushed red, grinning from ear to ear.

Barty Crouch looked exhausted and somewhat numb, as if he hadn't rested much lately. He sat blankly next to Bagman, staring at the chattering young wizards below the stage, his eyes unfocused.

All the students returned to their seats at the long table, and the Goblet of Fire was moved back to the open space in front of the main guest's seat.

Seamus and Dean ran back and forth in the hallway, relaying news they had heard elsewhere, this time including students in the sixth and seventh grades: "Warlins from Slytherin has signed up, you know, that big guy from the Quidditch team."

"Angelina succeeded too!"

Angelina grinned sheepishly, yet with a hint of pride: "It was thanks to Lee, George, and Fred sacrificing themselves to hold back the poisonous tentacles that I was able to get the application form."

"Professor Sprout's greenhouse requires a lot of help, so I chose Professor Flitwick's room."

Hermione shared her tips for passing the game: "Professor McGonagall seemed worried that we would get hurt in the game. The morphing board was very difficult, even seventh-year students would have a hard time passing it; Snape's potion traps had many parts that deviated from the textbook, and there were many potions that I had never seen before, which stumped me as well."

“Professor Sprout’s Herb Greenhouse requires knowledge of the habits of each plant and also has a lot of advanced course content…Professor Flitwick’s Enchanted House is more suitable for us.”

"..."

Harry put down his cutlery, the silver metal spoon clinking against the porcelain plate. He sighed, "Ron, I'm going to the bathroom for some fresh air. Want to come along?"

"No..." Ron mumbled, his mouth stuffed with a roasted chicken leg.

Harry paused for a moment, glanced at his plate, where a small pile of gnawed bones lay. The events of the day hadn't affected his appetite at all; the Weasley kids really had a good attitude.

He slipped through the aisle between the long tables and walked out of the auditorium.

"Good evening, boy who survived a terrible ordeal, this way," someone said from the courtyard corridor.

A male and a female wizard, both dressed in Muggle-style long overcoats, stood on the eaves of the courtyard roof, quietly watching the fine raindrops outside, seemingly from a different world from the noisy Great Hall. Professor Levent and Professor Rozier?
Harry hesitated for a moment, then slowed his pace to their side. The damp air hit him in the face, and the cool breeze that filled his nostrils extinguished the flames of frustration and depression in his heart.

“Professor…is there something you need?” Harry asked as they looked out over the courtyard through the rain.

“It seems you haven’t submitted your application form. Hermione was able to get through the Cursed House on her own, so you should be fine too.” Melvin turned his head. “The deadline is fast approaching, why haven’t you signed up yet? Don’t you want to participate in the Goblet of Fire to represent the school?”

“Professor McGonagall disqualified me…” Harry had to explain again, and that bitter feeling of regret, frustration, and resentment welled up again.

Christine glanced at the man; she had clearly told him that at lunch.

“Professor McGonagall only forbade you from taking the Dean’s test, not from getting the application form from other sources,” Melvin said with a smile.

“Professor, you mean…” Harry’s expression immediately became eager.

……

Ron, with a roasted chicken leg stuffed in his mouth, leaned to the left, while Seamus and Dean were to the right. Their burning gazes were fixed on the registration form, carefully reading the information that needed to be filled in each column. It was very simple, requiring only name, gender, age, and school.

"Should I really hand it in?" Harry hesitated, staring at the completed application form.

He still remembered Professor McGonagall's punishment; obtaining the registration form from other sources always felt like disobeying the Dean's orders, and he felt very uneasy. Not to mention that the Goblet of Fire was now placed in front of the main guest's seat, and he had to put it in there in front of Professor McGonagall.

“If you don’t want to sign up, I can take on this responsibility for you.” Ron was very loyal.

“Don’t cause trouble…” Dean pushed the man’s head away, and Seamus whispered in Harry’s ear, “Since the professor gave him the application form, it means it’s compliant. Don’t let Professor Levente down.”

Harry took a deep breath, stood up, and walked towards the head table under the watchful eyes of many classmates. The flames in the wooden cups burned fiercely, but none of them were as scorching as Professor McGonagall's gaze. The short few steps felt like miles.

Professor McGonagall watched the boy come and go, trembling with fear, not daring to look up for fear of meeting her dean's gaze. She was both annoyed and amused.

Sprout seemed to sense her thoughts and asked with equal concern, "Does Harry really have to participate? He's only in fourth grade, not even 15 yet."

Melvin replied softly, "There's no time for him to grow up slowly."

"..."

The Halloween dinner lasted longer than expected, with many dishes from different countries added to the menu. However, the young wizards were not interested. They quickly filled their stomachs and began to crane their necks to look at the main table, with anxious expressions on their faces.

But the adult wizards were all incredibly patient, slowly and methodically cutting their steaks and chatting with those around them while swirling their wine glasses, as if deliberately delaying to whet their appetites.

The students felt stifled and wished they could grab something from the plate and shove it into the professor's mouth.

Finally, the clock struck the hour, the last dessert was served, the plates were returned to their spotless state, and the hall suddenly became noisy, but immediately quieted down after Melvin stood up.

The huge auditorium was completely silent, filled with nearly a thousand teachers and students.

"Following the ancient ritual, once you cast your name into the Goblet of Fire, it's like signing a contract. Warriors chosen by the Goblet of Fire are not allowed to withdraw from the competition without permission or be absent without cause. They must persevere and finish the competition, even if it means death... This is why we set up the selection process."

Melvin paused briefly: "Now, let's see which students have been chosen by the Goblet of Fire!"

He casually waved his wand, and the brightly lit hall immediately became dim. Except for the phosphorescence in the pumpkin lanterns, all the other candles and torches went out instantly, and only the flame in the wooden cup suddenly expanded, emitting a dazzling light.

The students watched quietly, unconsciously slowing their breathing, letting the bursts of blue-white flames scorch out patches of dark purple shadows in their field of vision.

In a sudden moment, the flames turned red, and sparks crackled and shot out.

The sparks did not fall to the ground, nor did they burn up and dim as they splashed down. Instead, they remained in mid-air, continuously emitting light and heat, forming neat letters.

Those were four lists written in flames, clearly separated from one another.

"Hogwarts: Perigin Derek, Cedric Diggory, Roger Davis, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter."

"Ifamoni: Pickley Greaves, Nancy Boot, Dawn Rodriguez..."

"Beauxbatons: Ishabo Lacroix, Rosalind Tibbers, Fleur Delacour..."

"Demstrang: Viktor Krum, Nikolai Volkov, Bobs Novak..."

Five warriors from each school, a total of twenty, and the selected students all stood up and bowed in respect.

Cheers and applause instantly swept through the entire auditorium, and the dazzling flames of the list replaced the candles and torches, radiating a brilliant light that illuminated the faces of the warriors scattered across the long tables.

People were jumping up and down at all four long tables, screaming and stomping their feet. Even the usually composed Cedric couldn't help but break into a bright smile.

"That's fantastic, Viktor! I knew you were destined to be a warrior!" Karkaroff shouted, making sure all the teachers and students could hear him.

Krum, however, appeared listless and expressionless.

Piccoli of Iphamoni tried his best to hide his excitement, but he still couldn't suppress the smile on his face, and the smile grew wider and wider.

Ms. Maxim greeted each of her six students, and then, taking a moment, gave Hagrid, who was quite tipsy, a smile that instantly captivated him, making his eyes misty.

The last time I saw this expression was when Norber hatched.

Harry and Hermione were practically the youngest of the group, standing towards the back of the Gryffindor table. The little witch blushed, and Harry glanced furtively at the head table, only to find Professor McGonagall nodding and smiling at him, filling him with immense excitement.

Although the age limit was removed for this competition thanks to Melvin's intervention, most of the selected warriors were still 17 years old or older. The very few who were underage but still received an application form were screened out by the Goblet of Fire.

"Quiet."

Melvin paused the frenzied students: "Chosen warriors, please proceed along the corridor to the side hall of the auditorium, where the organizing committee will provide initial guidance."

(End of this chapter)