Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

Chapter 319 The Triwizard Tournament will be held at Hogwarts this year!
That look was terrifying, like being locked on by an eagle circling high in the sky, as if you were about to be swooped down and torn apart at any moment.

The pretty boy's arrogance vanished almost instantly.

"Hmph, don't think you're so great just because you've become some kind of youth wizard representative!" Draco swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly, his face pale, but clearly he was all bark and no bite. "Mudbloods like you will be dealt with sooner or later!"

He said some harsh words, but then unconsciously took a half step back.

"Except your weapons!"

As soon as Dylan finished speaking, a dazzling holy light swiftly flew towards Draco.

His magical power is very high; it might not be much weaker than Dumbledore's.

So even if you deliberately hold back and control the force, the speed of this spell is still incredibly fast, carrying a powerful impact.

Draco didn't even have time to raise his wand to defend himself before the holy light struck his chest.

He felt a tremendous force strike him, and his body instantly lost its balance.

It's clearly a weapon to get rid of you.

As a result, the person flew backward like a kite with a broken string.

There was a "bang"!
He bumped into the corridor wall outside the private room and slid to the ground.

Crabbe and Goyle behind him reacted a beat slower, but were also affected by the aftershocks of the spell, staggering and falling onto Draco.

"Get up! Get up!" Draco struggled to his feet, licking his pale lips with his tongue, his face extremely ugly.

Crabbe and Gore quickly got up and went over to support him, one on each side.

He glared fiercely at Dylan, Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the box.

"You just wait! My dad won't let you get away with this!"

Draco uttered a harsh remark, his voice trembling with anger and pain.

After saying that, he dared not linger any longer. He stumbled and fled down the corridor with Crabbe and Goyle, their backs showing their disheveled state.

Ron watched the direction they disappeared in, and couldn't help but shiver. He reached up and touched his arm: "What's wrong with him today? How dare he come over and provoke us?"

Harry nodded, his tone full of doubt: "Yes, in the past three years, even if he wanted to cause trouble, he never dared to act recklessly as long as Dylan was around."

"Today, not only did he come, but he went straight for Dylan? Has he gone mad?"

Both of them felt that Draco's behavior today was extremely unusual, completely inconsistent with his usual bullying and cowardly nature.

Dylan didn't seem to care much about Draco's foul language; he just sat in his seat lost in thought.

He was trying to find a reason for Draco's unusual behavior.

In fact, Draco grew up in Slytherin.

They were also instilled with the Malfoy family's "pure-blood supremacy" ideology.

There was already a prejudice against wizards of Muggle origin.

But in the past, no matter how arrogant he was, he knew how to weigh his strength and would not provoke people who were obviously stronger than him.

Could it be that the riots following the Quidditch World Cup affected him?
Or... has Lucius already met Voldemort?

Dylan gradually began to have a guess.

If Lucius had truly returned to Voldemort's side, he would surely have revealed something to Draco, making him think that the Malfoy family had a powerful backer again, which was why they dared to provoke him so brazenly.

After all, in Draco's eyes, his father's support was his greatest source of confidence, enough to give him the illusion that "he can do it again."

Thinking of this, a slight smile appeared in Dylan's eyes.

It seems that Voldemort's power is indeed secretly resurfacing, with even the Malfoy family making moves. The days to come may not be peaceful for others.

However, for him, this means a wealth of resources and test subjects!

The Hogwarts Express gradually slowed down, and the sound of its wheels rubbing against the rails grew fainter.

Finally, accompanied by a long and deep whistle, it came to a steady stop on the platform of Hogsmeade Station.

Outside the train window, large raindrops were pelting down, the sky was shrouded in thick, dark clouds, and every now and then a streak of silvery lightning would flash across the sky, briefly illuminating the dimly lit platform.

The students who got off the train earlier didn't bring rain gear and were mostly soaked to the bone. Their school uniforms clung to their bodies, their hair was dripping wet, and they could only run awkwardly towards the eaves of the station, clutching their schoolbags.

Dylan stood up, walked to the carriage door, raised his wand above his own head and the heads of Harry, Ron, and Hermione beside him, and whispered, "Obstacles!"

An invisible, transparent barrier instantly formed, moving in sync with the four people. The rain falling from above hit the barrier and immediately split to the sides, leaving not a single drop of moisture on their clothes.

Then he pointed his wand at his feet.

The path, which had become muddy and covered with footprints due to the rain, was transformed into a smooth, bluish-gray flagstone path in the blink of an eye by the incantation, as the soil quickly solidified and hardened.

Although the stone slabs were still damp and glistening, they would no longer leave people with muddy feet. The students who got off the bus behind couldn't help but show their delighted expressions as they walked on the stone path.

Outside the station, several Thestral carriages were already waiting.

Dylan looked at the group of emaciated Thestrals.

Their bodies are covered with sparse black feathers, their wings are withered, and their eyes are hollow, yet they exude a mysterious power.

He couldn't help but recall the dozens of vials of blood he had extracted from Thestrals in the Forbidden Forest.

The blood was a peculiar silvery-gray, and its texture was much thicker than that of ordinary animal blood.

At the time, he detected that the life force contained within it was not much weaker than that of the blood of an immortal vampire.

It is a good raw material for magic potions.

Dylan looked at the Thestrals, heads bowed, munching on hay and diligently pulling the cart, and smiled slightly.

Those dozens of vials of blood won't last long; they've almost run out recently.

It seems I can go to the Forbidden Forest a few more times to borrow some more blood from these little guys.

The carriage moved forward through the rain.

Soon, the massive outline of Hogwarts Castle came into view.

The black tower pierced the clouds, and warm yellow light shone from its windows.

Dylan alighted from the carriage and, together with a group of students who were soaking wet and looked like drowned rats, quickly walked through the castle gate.

As soon as I stepped into the entrance hall, I saw Old Deng standing not far away.

He raised his wand and waved it gently, and a blurry, pale blue light portal immediately appeared at the entrance of the hall.

The students passed through the light gate one by one, and the rainwater on their bodies instantly disappeared. Their soaked school uniforms became dry and soft, and even their hair regained its fluffiness.

It felt like even if I were soaked by ten kilograms of rainwater, this magic would completely dry me off.

Inside the auditorium, the teachers were already seated behind the long table.

Snape, dressed in his signature black robes, still had a face so dark it looked like it was about to drip water, his brows furrowed tightly, clearly in a terrible mood.

He had longed for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professorship for many years, but this year it was snatched away by someone else, and he still couldn't get his wish.

"That wretched old bee!"

Snape cursed inwardly, his eyes filled with resentment, "They'd rather hand over the position to an outsider than give it to me!"

He clenched his fist under the table, his knuckles turning white.

Dumbledore, whom he called "Old Bee," was sitting in the center of the teacher's desk with a smile on his face. His white beard was slightly upturned, and his gentle gaze swept over the bustling students in the Great Hall. He was completely unaware of Snape's complaints beside him.

In fact, even if he did notice, he would probably just pretend he didn't see it.

He was already used to Snape's obsession with teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The real Alastor Mudi did not sit in the usual position in the teachers' section, but instead sat directly on a tall wooden table at the front of the classroom.

His face was covered with crisscrossing scars, one of which stretched from his forehead to his chin, making him look particularly ferocious.

The iconic Magic Eye swirled within its socket, its silver iris reflecting the candlelight of the Great Hall. It swept across every corner of the audience, scrutinizing the Hogwarts students, even the young wizards hiding in the back rows were not spared its gaze.

Many of the students below the stage looked frightened when they saw him like this.

Several timid freshmen even shrank back behind their companions, while others exchanged glances and scrambled to move to seats further away from the podium. After all, no one wanted to be stared at by that eerie, demonic eye for long.

Moody saw all these subtle actions clearly, but paid them no heed.

He simply propped himself up on the table with one hand, while toying with his wand in the other, his eyes holding the sharpness characteristic of an Auror.

Soon, Professor McGonagall stepped forward and placed a three-legged stool in the open space in front of the new students.

The stool looked a bit old, with some wood grain stains on its legs.

She then took a wizard's hat from her cloth bag.

The hat was tattered, with a worn brim, covered in dust, and patched with several different colored patches. It looked like it had been abandoned for a long time and was completely out of place in the magnificent auditorium.

The first-year students stared blankly at the hat, their eyes full of confusion.

Previously on the Hogwarts Express, Fred and George, the Weasley twins, spread their improvised "Sorting Conspiracy Theory."

It is said that the Hogwarts Sorting Ceremony holds secrets, and may even be related to dark wizards.

These words made the already nervous freshmen uneasy. All the way there, they were worried about what strange methods the sorting would use, and some even worried that they would be required to take a dangerous magic test.

At that moment, they saw that it was just an ordinary old hat, and the freshmen breathed a long sigh of relief. When they looked in the direction of Fred and George, their eyes were full of resentment.

These two red-haired seniors actually lied to them about something like this, making them worry for nothing the whole way. It's just too much!
Just then, the auditorium fell into complete silence.

Then, a crack near the brim of the old hat slowly opened, like a small mouth, and then a melodious song came out.

That was over a thousand years ago, when I had just been woven into shape by silk threads.
There were four renowned wizards whose stories are still remembered today.

The brave and fearless Gryffindors came from that desolate swamp.

The intelligent and beautiful Ravenclaw, from that tranquil riverbank,

The kind and benevolent Hufflepuff came from the bottom of that open valley.
The shrewd and decisive Slytherins came from that dark swamp.

They shared a common dream and the same aspirations.
A bold plan was devised to nurture and transform young wizards.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was thus established in the valley.

These four great wizards each founded their own academy.
They have different focuses and insights when it comes to students' talents.

Gryffindor firmly believed that the bravest soul deserves the highest praise.

Ravenclaw firmly believes that the brightest minds always go the furthest.
Hufflepuff sincerely believes that only the most diligent individuals deserve to enter the academy.

Slytherin prefers young people with lofty ambitions who are willing to go all out for their goals.

During the lifetimes of the four great wizards, they personally selected their most promising disciples.

But when they are laid to rest in the afterlife, how will they select outstanding descendants?
It was Gryffindor who first came up with a way to remove me from his head.
All four giants have instilled their ideas in me, and from now on, I will be the one to judge and select!

Okay, now put me properly on your head.
I have never misjudged anyone.

Let me take a closer look at your head.
Determine which college you belong to!
After the song ended and the auditorium fell silent for a moment, enthusiastic applause erupted, and even Moody clapped his hands lightly, a rare occurrence for him.

Actually, the Sorting Hat's singing wasn't exactly melodious; the tune was sometimes off-key and sometimes dragged out, but nobody cared about that.
Everyone has the utmost respect for it.

It's important to understand that musical talent is generally lacking in the magical world.
This old hat has managed to create a new song almost every year, and it can accurately reflect the history and current situation of Hogwarts. This persistence and creativity is truly rare.

The applause gradually subsided.
Professor McGonagall unrolled a thick roll of parchment from her arms. The edges of the roll were yellowed, and it was covered with densely written names in ink.

She cleared her throat and said to the first-year students standing in front, "When I call your name, come forward, pick up the Sorting Hat, put it on your head, and sit on that three-legged stool."

"After the hat announces your college, go and sit down at the corresponding college's long table."

“Stuart Ackley!” Professor McGonagall read out the first name.

A tall, thin boy immediately stepped out from the freshman line. His legs were visibly trembling slightly, his hands were clenched tightly, and even the tips of his ears were flushed with nervousness.

He walked to the stool, carefully picked up the Sorting Hat, as if afraid of damaging the magical hat, and gently put it on his head.

Then slowly sit down, close your eyes tightly, and wait for the result.

Within seconds, the Sorting Hat's voice rang out: "Ravenclaw!"

A cheer immediately erupted at the Ravenclaw table.

The boy suddenly opened his eyes, a surprised smile spreading across his face, and quickly ran to his assigned spot.

The Sorting Ceremony proceeded smoothly, with each new student taking turns to come forward, from Gryffindor to Hufflepuff, from Ravenclaw to Slytherin.

Cheers erupted from the long tables of each house from time to time until the last young wizard was assigned to Hufflepuff, at which point Professor McGonagall put away the parchment.

Almost the instant the division of labor ended, golden lights flashed, and a sumptuous banquet was instantly laid out on the long table.

The roasted turkey, golden and crispy, was still steaming, its skin glistening with oil.

A small mountain of mashed potatoes is topped with thick meat gravy.

The colorful vegetable salads were arranged exquisitely, with a silver pot filled with pumpkin juice placed next to them.

The strawberries and blueberries in the fruit platter were plump and juicy, exuding a sweet aroma.

The students from the four colleges couldn't contain themselves any longer. The moment they saw the food, they all picked up their knives and forks and eagerly began to feast.

Dumbledore's pre-dinner speech was exceptionally brief; he simply smiled and uttered a single word.

"eat!"

The heavy rain outside was still pounding against the tall, black windows.

Raindrops pounded against the glass, making a "pitter-patter" sound.

Suddenly, a loud clap of thunder rang out, and the entire auditorium seemed to shake.

The glass window rattled.

A bolt of lightning ripped through the gloomy sky, instantly illuminating the golden plates inside the auditorium.

The remaining main dish on the plate vanished instantly.

In the blink of an eye, it was piled high with all sorts of desserts.

A chocolate fountain gurgles with rich chocolate sauce, and fresh fruit skewers are placed next to it.

The cream cake is layered and decorated with colorful frosting.

There are also crispy cookies and soft, chewy puddings, making it a dazzling array of choices.

Under the students' swift and fierce onslaught, even the desserts were quickly swept away.

The last crumb of cookie disappeared from the plate, instantly turning the plate, which had been covered in food scraps, into a clean, sparkling silver dish.

Just then, Albus Dumbledore slowly stood up.

The buzzing voices in the hall vanished instantly, leaving only the howling wind and the sound of rain pounding against the windows.

"Alright!" Dumbledore smiled at the students filling the Great Hall, his voice gentle yet clear. "Now that everyone has finished eating, I must ask you to be quiet again to announce a few important announcements."

He first read out a few of the usual rules.

Students are prohibited from leaving their dormitories after curfew, from entering the Forbidden Forest, and from using dangerous magic in the corridors.

Then, he turned to the side and pointed to Moody sitting in the teachers' seat, introducing him to everyone: "This is Alastor Moody, an experienced senior Auror, who will be our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor from today onwards."

Moody stood up, nodded slightly to the students, and his magic eye began to dart around again, drawing whispers from many of them.

Once everyone's attention was refocused, Dumbledore's tone suddenly became somewhat serious: "I regret to inform you that there will be no House Cup Quidditch match this year."

These words were like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, instantly eliciting gasps of surprise and disbelief from the audience.

The students whispered among themselves, their faces filled with disbelief, especially the players who had been preparing for Quidditch matches for a long time, who showed expressions of disappointment.

Dumbledore and the others quieted down a bit before continuing, "The reason for canceling the Quidditch match is that a large event will begin in October and last throughout the school year, requiring teachers to invest a lot of time and energy. But I believe that this event will bring just as much enjoyment as the Quidditch match."

He paused, a hopeful smile spreading across his face, and raised his voice to announce, "I am very pleased to announce that the Triwizard Tournament will be held at Hogwarts this year!"

(End of this chapter)