The opening feast was always incredibly sumptuous: puddings that would reappear as soon as one was eaten, mountains of roasted potatoes, pies of all flavors... However, it seemed that Hermione didn't intend to eat a single bite. She suddenly became extremely indignant about Hogwarts' use of house-elves. But apparently, all the classmates around her couldn't quite understand why she was so angry. After the long journey and Peeves' water balloon attacks, everyone felt they could eat a whole dragon. So after trying to persuade her a few times and realizing they couldn't change her mind at all, they chose to continue gobbling up the food on their plates.
"Something happened at the Quidditch World Cup. They met the house-elf of the Crouch family in the top box, and then some other things occurred – well, we were told by the Ministry of Magic not to talk about it anymore. Anyway, that house-elf was fired," Longbottom explained to me when he saw the look of confusion on my face. "Hermione thinks that house-elf was treated unfairly."
"Extremely unfair and inhumane treatment!" Hermione corrected Longbottom angrily, glaring at Ron Weasley's face which was stuffed full of food.
"They aren't humans in the first place," Black tugged at his tie and gave a disdainful laugh.
"I don't expect you to understand. I know you're also a young master who was waited on by house-elves since childhood!" Hermione refused to eat even a bite. She folded her arms and looked at the dazzling array of food on the table. "This is all the result of exploiting slaves!"
"The house-elf in our family is really annoying," Black shook his head as he cut his steak. "It's crazy, uses foul language all the time, and its favorite person is my grandmother who thinks all Muggles should die. My father and I can't stand it, but my mother says it can at least do some work."
Hermione's breathing grew heavier. For the rest of the time, she made up her mind not to say a single word to Black. Ron Weasley, seeing that Hermione wasn't eating anything, specifically brought over the foods she used to like in an attempt to tempt her (boys can be so annoying). He only stopped when she gave him a fierce glare.
Finally, even the last golden plate was as clean as new. Everyone started to feel a bit dazed from the big meal. If it weren't for the lightning still flashing across the sky on the ceiling from time to time, everyone would almost have forgotten that not long ago they were walking through the rainstorm with empty stomachs. Professor Dumbledore stood up again and, as in previous years, began to explain the school rules and precautions (to be honest, it didn't really help; those who were going to break the rules would still break them).
"—And I'm very sorry to tell you that the House Cup will not be held this year."
This was completely unexpected news. The boys looked at each other in shock, stunned. Potter even let out a cry.
"This is because a large-scale event will start in October and last throughout the academic year, taking up a lot of the teachers' time and energy. Many teachers have already sacrificed a great deal of their vacation time and time with their families to prepare for this event — but I believe that everyone at Hogwarts will get a great deal of enjoyment from it. I'm very pleased to announce that this year at Hogwarts —"
A deafening thunderclap drowned out the rest of his words. The doors of the Great Hall burst open. A man stood at the door, and the lightning illuminated his terrifying face and body — he looked exactly like the scariest wizard that could be described in those bedtime storybooks, with scars all over every inch of his skin. When everyone clearly saw his eyes, they could hardly control themselves from making sounds of horror — he had a wildly spinning, huge eye that looked as if it had been forcefully plucked from the head of a terrifying doll and placed on his own head. It looked even more eerie because of the existence of his normal eye.
I recognized this man as Alastor Moody, known as Mad-Eye. Before his retirement, he was an Auror who struck fear into the hearts of Dark Wizards. He was also a senior that my mother respected very much. It seemed that he had once given my mother a lot of help. He walked unsteadily to Dumbledore's side (I heard Brown let out a frightened whimper when his wooden leg was revealed). After shaking hands with Dumbledore, he sat down at the teachers' table. Dumbledore introduced to the still-dazed students that Moody would be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for this academic year — the students didn't seem to hear him. It wasn't our fault. We were all, as if under a spell, staring intently at Moody as he took out a curved flask from his cloak and that blue eye that was still constantly spinning.
"Then, let's continue with the topic we were discussing just now." Dumbledore said with a smile, not minding that everyone was still staring blankly at Moody. "I am very pleased to tell you that Hogwarts will host an event this year that has not been held for over a century — the Triwizard Tournament."
A huge commotion instantly filled the entire Great Hall. Everyone started to talk animatedly among themselves. Even Hermione, who had been fuming just now, showed an expression of disbelief. After Dumbledore briefly introduced the Triwizard Tournament (not many people were listening), the noise did not stop. Especially when he said, "The students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang who are participating will arrive at Hogwarts in October, and the final winning champion will receive a prize of one thousand Galleons," the commotion reached its peak — several students, such as the Weasley twins, even stood on their stools and shouted that they wanted to participate.
"—The participating schools and the Ministry of Magic have reached a consensus that there will be an age limit for this year's Triwizard Tournament. Only those who are at least seventeen years old — yes, not a day less. Only adult students are allowed to sign up." Amidst the fierce protests, Dumbledore continued calmly, "I understand everyone's eagerness to bring glory to Hogwarts, but safety always comes first. We will have comprehensive measures to ensure that only students who meet the age requirement can sign up. And I hope that those who are not old enough will not waste their time." ("As if!!" the Weasley twins roared.) "I hope that during this academic year, you will all treat our foreign guests warmly and friendly, and promote exchanges between each other. Now — I hope you all go to bed and get a good rest, and enter the classroom tomorrow full of energy to welcome the new academic year."
Draco wasn't very interested in this kind of competition. One thousand Galleons didn't have much appeal for him, not to mention that Dumbledore had emphasized that people had died in previous competitions — he had always been rather timid in such matters. I just looked up to glance at his expression, and as I had expected, he was yawning while playing with a small ball in his hand.
"By the way, McLaggen said a lot of things about you in the carriage — things that weren't very nice. He said them to those senior boys." Amidst the chatter about the Triwizard Tournament and the Hogwarts champions, Hermione leaned close to my ear and whispered, "Be careful. He seems to be very troublesome."
"Have I not heard enough unpleasant words?" I shrugged. "I actually wish he would say more bad things about me and then stay far away from me."
"If there wasn't the age limit of seventeen, would you want to be a champion?" I asked Hermione out of curiosity.
"Me? I couldn't do it. We don't have enough knowledge. What Dumbledore said is right. Those tasks are beyond what we can handle. They require advanced magic —"
The boys obviously didn't think so. Even when they returned to the common room, they were still excitedly imagining what it would be like if they became champions. The girls, on the other hand, started to count on their fingers the adult students at Hogwarts. The first one they mentioned was Cedric Diggory.
"Come on, I don't want a pretty boy to be the representative of Hogwarts!" Ron Weasley said loudly.
"You're just jealous!" His words were immediately drowned out by the girls' objections.
However, the classes that came one after another the next day dampened everyone's enthusiasm a great deal. The pungent-smelling, sticky pus of the Bubotuber, and the pale, sticky Blast-Ended Skrewts that Hagrid somehow got again — it made everyone lose their appetite for the thick soup at noon. Hermione, however, wolfed down quite a bit and then hurried off to the library alone. The Arithmancy class in the afternoon was a relief. There were no sticky things, and Professor Vector hadn't assigned us any homework yet.
"Iris."
After class, I was packing my schoolbag and getting ready to go back when I heard my father calling my name from the other side of the corridor.
"Dad?" I said goodbye to Hermione and walked towards my father, feeling a bit uneasy. Mother must have told Father about me running around on the night of the Quidditch World Cup final. It's just that he had been too busy to deal with me. Was he going to drag me to his office and make me stand facing the wall to reflect on my mistakes now?
He stroked my head. Only then did I realize that I hadn't seen my father for two months. For us, a father and daughter, this was actually a long separation, considering that most of the time we were at Hogwarts. I always felt closer to my mother and yearned more for her company. But in fact, it was my father who had been by my side more often since I was a child. He didn't need to write me letters or send me cakes and gifts because he was always there with me. I seemed to have taken this kind of companionship for granted, so much so that I hadn't written him a single letter during the two-month vacation.
"Go back," he said abruptly, waving his hand stiffly. "I hope your Transfiguration skills will improve this year as much as they did last year."
When writing this memoir, whenever I recall the past between my father and me, I easily fall into a state of remorse. I wonder, if at this moment I could have given my father a hug, if at that time I could have frankly told him that I missed him, if at some point I could have stood on tiptoe in the crowd and waved to him — what kind of expression would he have had? These feelings of guilt became even more intense after we narrowly survived several encounters with death, especially when I became a mother and watched my own child babbling, taking their first wobbly steps, and conjuring the first tiny spark with their fingertips. I can hardly bear to think about how much more grief I would have to bear if my father hadn't survived that war. To my relief, my little daughter adores her grandfather and always clamors to be held by him. Of course, a big reason is that I tricked her into thinking that those awful potions were brewed by either me or her father.
Back to the point. After leaving my father, I went to the Entrance Hall, hoping to have dinner (and praying that there would be no sticky things). I found that many Gryffindor students were gathered there. Ron Weasley had a dreamy expression on his face, as if someone had just fed him a whole pint of Felix Felicis.
"What's going on?" I asked Hermione in confusion.
"Er..." She was desperately trying to hold back her laughter. I could almost feel her thinking about how to phrase it.
"I want to engrave this moment in my memory forever," Ron Weasley said piously. "Draco Malfoy, that extraordinary jumping white ferret..."
"Ahem, he wasn't seriously injured. Professor McGonagall came over almost immediately to stop it," Hermione whispered to me, trying not to spoil the boys' joy. "Malfoy provoked them first. He insulted Ron's mother with a report from the Daily Prophet. So, of course, Harry and the others retaliated. Professor Moody happened to see Malfoy casting a spell on Harry, so he turned him into a, well, white ferret — and then Professor Moody took Malfoy away, probably to Professor Snape's office — sorry, I can't help laughing. That scene... Although I know it was dangerous and Professor Moody shouldn't have done that."
I quickly ran towards my father's office, but to my surprise, only Professor Moody was in my father's office. He said that he had originally come to hand Draco over to my father for handling, but since my father wasn't there, he had stayed a little longer because he admired my father's collection. I was a bit surprised because few people could describe the various things soaked in different containers in my father's office as something worthy of admiration. He also asked about my mother's situation and highly praised her performance in hunting down Peter Pettigrew.
When I found Draco, he was losing his temper by the lake. He was sitting on the shore and throwing the stones at his feet into the lake one by one. When I walked over, he suddenly looked up. There were still tears on his face that hadn't been wiped clean, and his hair and collar were all in a mess — he looked extremely upset.
"My father — if he has the guts, he should really go and have a talk with my father," I heard him mutter through gritted teeth after I sat down beside him. "It's not like our family hasn't been searched by those idiots in the Ministry of Magic. What did that red-haired mole's stupid father find when he kept a close eye on our house? Scum, rubbish... One day..."
"Don't you dare laugh!" he roared at me furiously. "It's not funny at all! Don't laugh, do you hear me!"
"I didn't see anything," I pressed my lips together and forced myself not to think about how he had been "jumping around".
"You must have heard them talk about it. What did Granger tell you? She must have laughed her head off, right!" He threw a big stone into the lake with a splash.
"Actually, she said that what Professor Moody did was very wrong. Fortunately, Professor McGonagall arrived right away," I took out my wand and tapped the abrasion under his eyes that was still mixed with fine sand. "Don't move. Be careful not to poke your eyes — Episkey."
"Hypocritical!" he said loudly. "You're still taking her side — I was turned into a ferret!"
There were also a few abrasions on his arm. After I took out a handkerchief and gave it to him, asking him to wipe the dust off his face, he was still angry and swatted my hand away. Considering that this experience was indeed a great insult to him, I didn't intend to discuss with him that he was the one who provoked the trouble in the first place — such words would undoubtedly add fuel to the fire.
"Do you want to go and see Madam Pomfrey?" I reached out to wipe the dust off his face, and this time he didn't refuse. "If there are any other bruises —"
"No," he replied angrily, but he didn't say any more unpleasant words. "I can't see what my hair looks like. Comb it for me."
"I didn't bring a comb," I said. "Hey... get up!"
I poked his head that was resting on my lap with my finger, but he closed his eyes without moving a muscle.
"It wasn't me who turned you into a ferret," I muttered. Then I reached out and casually smoothed the hair on his forehead. "Hmm, don't open your eyes. There's still a small abrasion on your eyelid — I told you not to open your eyes!"
When the warmth of his breath on my palm reached me, it was as if I had been scalded by the boiling potion bursting out of the cauldron. I was so startled that, for some reason, I almost wanted to push his entire head off my skirt. I wonder if you've ever eaten the Volcano Chocolates from Honeydukes Sweetshop. The hot, fragrant fruit pulp is wrapped in cold chocolate. The first time you take a bite and your teeth sink into the pulp, a burning shiver spreads from the cold tip of your tongue to your lips and teeth, making your whole body jolt. Every year, there are different new flavors and new packaging, but nothing can ever be as impressive as the first time you taste it. Because the first time you put it in your mouth, you have no idea what temperature the thing wrapped inside that cold chocolate is.
This might have been the first time I truly and irreversibly realized that we were no longer the little kids who rode toy brooms, brandished toy wands, and attacked each other with our made-up spells. The boy lying on my lap was almost a head taller than me, and his voice was completely different from what it used to be when we were children. Sometimes, I couldn't quickly make out what he was saying in a crowd. We were gradually becoming more and more different, in every sense of the word. Of course, I had known before that we were growing up, especially since he seemed to have been hit by a growth charm — but from that very moment, something fundamental had changed. At that time, my understanding of it was still hazy.
"Is it done?" he frowned and asked, reaching out with the finger wearing the Slytherin ring to twirl a lock of my long hair that hung down in front of my chest. "Why did you suddenly stop talking?"
"I, I'm hungry." I slapped his hand away and stood up, not caring that his head thumped onto the ground. I felt that my face must be as red as if I had just eaten a Pepper Imp — no, a whole box of Pepper Imps. I mumbled incoherently, "I'm going back to the Great Hall for dinner. I have a lot of homework — Professor Vector assigned a ton of it..."
I heard him laughing behind me. It seemed that he wasn't angry anymore. That's good, that's good.
It would be even better if my heart wasn't beating so fast.