Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

"Harry, you have to let me use the Copy Charm to make a copy later!" Hermione suddenly said urgently, her hands already reaching for her wand in her pocket, her eyes fixed on the parchment in Sirius's hand.

The spells and their uses written on it are crucial for Harry and his friends' preparations; having an extra copy means having an extra layer of protection.

Harry took the parchment from Sirius and nodded with a smile: "No problem, find an empty table later and you can copy it slowly."

"Then... could you make a copy for me too?" Ron immediately leaned over, his tone somewhat tentative, still holding the empty non-alcoholic butterbeer mug in his hand. "I'm afraid I won't remember everything, so having a copy will make it easier to refer to it anytime."

"Let me see what you've compiled. I'll take a closer look." Sirius Black took the parchment from Harry before Hermione could respond, gently stroking the surface with his fingers as he began to peruse it carefully.

"Immune to Water and Fire, Repelling Spell, Iron Armor Spell..."

As he looked at the spells, he murmured their names, his brows sometimes relaxing and sometimes furrowing, clearly pondering how to combine and use them.

After a long while, he slowly put down the parchment, his tone tinged with helplessness: "To be honest, I have nothing to add. You have compiled it quite comprehensively, covering almost all possible situations, from defense to offense to emergency remedies."

He paused, his finger tapping the edge of the parchment, his tone becoming serious: "If I had to find something to add, it would be the methods of actual practice. For example, casting the Ironclad Charm on a teammate while moving is no simple task. You have to ensure the spell's coverage area is covered, and you can't let magical fluctuations interfere with your teammate's movements."

He pointed to a line of notes and continued, "You wrote here that if the Ironclad Spell's casting is unstable, it will become an obstacle for your teammates. Have you thought about how to solve this problem?"

“We were worried about that, and we’re already discussing a practice plan,” Harry replied quickly, his tone tinged with relief. “We plan to go to an empty classroom after school every day, start by practicing casting spells on our teammates from a fixed position, and then try moving around to coordinate once we’re more proficient.”

"That's good." Sirius raised his fist and gently pressed it to his lips, his voice lowered, and his eyes showed a hint of relief. "Hogwarts has four warriors who can help each other and practice together, which is much better than fighting alone. Back in the day, James and I didn't have such good conditions."

Another moment passed.

“By the way, it’s been a week already.” Ron suddenly spoke up, holding the parchment Hermione had just prepared with the Copying Charm in his hand. His eyes were somewhat unfocused, clearly he was thinking about something else. “Why haven’t we received any new hints about the Triwizard Tournament yet? They haven’t even mentioned the specific time for the first event.”

“I’m not sure either.” Harry shrugged, recalling their previous conversation. “Cedric had asked the referee team before, and they said the first event was originally scheduled for the end of this month, but they’re probably still adjusting because there’s an extra warrior.”

“That’s actually better,” Hermione immediately chimed in, her tone full of optimism. “You’ll have more time to prepare, and you’ll be more at ease when facing dangerous creatures. It’s much better than rushing into battle.”

“I almost forgot, I just mentioned it.” Sirius suddenly straightened his back, his voice instantly regaining its usual vitality, his eyes shining. “Harry, I’ll teach you the Eye-Blinding Curse. This spell is especially effective against dragons; it can temporarily blind them, buying you time. After you learn it, tell Dylan and the others, and everyone can practice together.”

As he spoke, he picked up a small spoon from the table, pointed to the handle, and said, "Watch, pay attention to the emphasis when pronouncing the spell, and keep the tip of the wand steady..."

“Great! That’s wonderful!” Harry’s eyes lit up, and he nodded immediately, his tone full of anticipation, his body instinctively leaning forward. “So where should we practice? If we go to an empty classroom, we might run into other students.”

“Let’s go to the Screaming Shack,” Sirius said with a smile, tapping his fingers lightly on the table, a sly glint in his eyes. “It’s in a secluded spot, not many people go there, it’s very quiet, perfect for practicing magic without being disturbed.”

“The Screaming Shack?” Ron frowned immediately, nearly dropping the parchment in his hand. “I remember Hermione mentioning it before…”

He turned to Hermione, his tone uncertain, "Is it that cursed haunted house that the villagers of Hogsmeade dare not approach? I've also heard it's the most haunted place in all of England?"

"Oh? It's quite famous now?" Sirius couldn't help but laugh, his eyes filled with nostalgia, as if recalling some amusing past event. "So, I never told you guys about that place?"

Harry carefully recalled in his mind that Sirius Black had never mentioned the Shrieking Shack since he met him, so he gently shook his head: "It seems... he never did."

Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement, clearly knowing nothing about the past there, just like Harry.

“That’s perfect,” Sirius said, a hint of reminiscence in his eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “When we go to practice, I’ll tell you about the funny things that happened there with James, Lupin, and the others, and how we secretly studied there.”

As he spoke, he stood up, picked up his coat draped over the back of the chair, and said to Harry and the others, "Wait for me a moment. I'm going to buy some more food from Madam Rosmerta. Practicing takes a lot of energy, so I can have something to eat later."

After saying that, he walked quickly to the bar and soon came back with a paper bag containing a few sandwiches and a small jar of nuts.

The four of them then walked out of the Three Broomsticks Bar and headed towards the Scream Shack.

As soon as the bell rang for Charms class, Dylan and Neville walked out of the classroom together, while Harry and Ron lingered behind.

Just as they reached the top of the stairs, Neville, who was walking ahead, suddenly stopped, pointed to the corner of the corridor ahead, and asked with a hint of surprise, "Huh? Isn't that Mr. Ollivander? What's he doing at Hogwarts?"

Dylan looked in the direction he was pointing and saw an elderly man with gray hair and round-framed glasses standing at the end of the corridor, carrying a familiar dark brown wooden box.

He is the owner of Ollivander's Wand Shop in Diagon Alley.

He walked over and then bowed slightly with elegance: "Good afternoon, Mr. Ollivander."

"Good afternoon, Dylan." Ollivander smiled and nodded, his eyes behind his glasses full of gentleness. He looked Dylan up and down and asked softly, "Do you feel any pressure participating in the Triwizard Tournament alone?"

"I'm still a little worried," Dylan said frankly. "After all, this situation is special. The Warriors have one more player, so the difficulty of the project will definitely increase accordingly. I'm afraid I'm not prepared enough."

He paused, then changed the subject: "But besides worrying, I'm also looking forward to the upcoming competition. No matter the outcome, I think as long as I do my best and leave no regrets, that's enough."

This provided an excellent opportunity to plunder slaves—no, to seize people and various experimental subjects.

How can we leave with regrets?

“It’s excellent to have such a mindset.” Ollivander’s tone was full of praise. He patted the wooden box in his hand lightly, then suddenly changed the subject, “By the way, you can guess why I came to Hogwarts this time. Here’s a hint—it’s related to the Triwizard Tournament.”

"Is it related to the Triwizard Tournament?" Dylan raised an eyebrow upon hearing this.

The rules of the game clearly state that warriors can only bring wands into the arena. As the only tool for casting spells, if there is any problem with the wand, the consequences would be unimaginable.

He looked at the familiar dark brown wooden box in Ollivander's hand, and quickly came to his answer. He said with certainty, "We can only bring our wands when we go into battle. They are our most important companions, and we absolutely cannot afford any mistakes. You're here to help us check the condition of our wands, right?"

“That’s right, you’re very perceptive.” Ollivander nodded with a smile, patting the wooden crate. “It contains professional tools for testing wands. Let’s go upstairs first; the warriors from the other schools should be arriving soon, so let’s not keep them waiting too long.”

Dylan turned to Neville and said they'd talk later, then quickly followed Ollivander up the slowly moving stairs.

In the portraits on both sides of the staircase, the figures peek out, curiously examining Ollivander.

This renowned wand maker rarely comes to Hogwarts on his own initiative.

The two soon arrived at the door of a rather small classroom.

Pushing open the door, one finds a large crowd already gathered inside.

Dumbledore sat in a soft chair by the window, his silver beard hanging down his chest, talking quietly with Karkaroff beside him. Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch stood by the podium, holding thick folders, seemingly checking some contents.

To Dylan's even greater surprise, a familiar figure was standing in the corner of the classroom. She wore an eye-catching magenta robe, and her golden curly hair was adorned with a glittering hairpin.

It was Rita Skeeter, a reporter for The Daily Prophet.

Holding a shorthand quill pen, she was vigilantly observing everyone present, clearly looking for interview material.

Ollivander walked straight to Dumbledore, and the two spoke in hushed tones.

Rita Skeeter, as if she had discovered a new continent, strode up to Dylan with a professional smile on her face and a deliberately sweet voice: "Dylan, would you like to be interviewed by me first? I promise to put your content in the most prominent position in the report, longer than Harry's."

"Sorry, I've been too busy," Dylan said calmly, without the slightest hint of emotion.

After he was inexplicably dragged into becoming some kind of youth representative by Old Deng, Rita tried to interview him several times, but he refused each time, citing his busy studies.

“Of course, but you’re not busy right now, are you?” Rita shrugged, deliberately raising her voice. “But it’s really not a good time to do an interview right now. It’s a very private matter, you know.”

Rita winked at Dylan.

"Your charm is growing stronger, a rising star in the magical world. Even Mr. Ollivander postponed the wand test for you."

Seeing Dylan raise his eyebrows, she immediately moved closer and lowered her voice, but still loud enough for those around to hear: "You don't know yet, do you? Just now, several principals were arguing about the testing time."

“One principal said that it gets dark early now, and delaying the test would affect the lighting for the group photo, making the photo look bad. But Principal Dumbledore shut him down with one sentence: ‘It is really inappropriate to make students miss classes because of the wand test’—oh, see how well he put it, the principal was immediately speechless.”

She paused, a sly glint in her eyes, and then changed the subject: "But as far as I know, 'the boy who survived' Harry would probably be quite happy to miss Potions class. As for which student would regret missing class... Mr. Nova, who do you think it would be? Draco? After all, the Malfoy children have always valued grades very much."

Before Dylan could answer, Rita leaned closer and lowered her voice even further: "Honestly, the reason this Triwizard Tournament has become so special, with an extra warrior and the difficulty of the events being unclear, must be related to some principals' underhanded tactics."

"If you could reveal more details, they might receive a lot of 'friendly greetings' from readers in a couple of days—for example, letters asking about their educational philosophy."

“Ms. Skeeter,” Dylan shook his head slightly, his tone still calm but with an undeniable firmness, “as Mr. Ollivander said, our focus right now is on preparing for the competition. Do you think I would disrupt normal exchanges between magic schools for something so trivial?”

His words were neither too soft nor too hard, clearly stating his position while cleverly steer the conversation back to the competition itself, giving Rita no chance to continue arguing.

Rita pouted, clearly not expecting to be rejected so readily, and could only turn away dejectedly, casting her gaze at Harry who had just entered the classroom.

Watching Rita turn away dejectedly, Dylan suddenly realized that this would probably be the most relaxed interview he would ever face.

They were not questioned about gossip, nor were they deliberately guided to make controversial remarks.

Even if there was a brief entanglement, he decisively blocked it back, without the slightest discomfort throughout.

He also found Rita's appearance particularly interesting.

She stood on the other side of the classroom, her magenta robe draped over her shoulders. Her once bright eyes had lost their sparkle, and her fingers were unconsciously fiddling with her shorthand quill.

His listless appearance was just like the "heartbroken bug that couldn't find nettles" that Luna once described, with even the corners of his mouth slightly turned down.

Dylan knew very well why she was so disappointed.

After all, they had dealt with each other a few times. Although he had turned them down each time, the other party knew that what he said was not exaggerated.

Whenever he participates in an interview, the article must be based on objective facts, without exaggerated conjecture or sensational speculation, which is clearly inconsistent with Rita's consistent writing style.

It's about content that's worthy of being reported in the news.

Dylan didn't want to attract too much unnecessary attention.

While Rita could also write these kinds of standard reports, it would inevitably take her more time to polish the details, making it far less easy and enjoyable than writing gossip news.

Thinking of this, Dylan suddenly had an idea. He took two steps toward Rita and said, "Ms. Skeeter, there's something I think only you can help with."

"Oh?" Rita immediately stopped what she was doing, her previously slumped shoulders tensed slightly, and the shorthand quill she had adjusted stood upright on the parchment with a "whoosh," the tip still trembling slightly, clearly ready to take notes.

Her eyes lit up instantly, and her tone was urgent: "I'm the most suitable candidate? I never expected to hear such a thing from the Magic Star."

She leaned forward, her voice full of anticipation: "So, you're not going to write those bland reports again, are you? Have you changed your mind?"

"Is it to teach some principals a lesson?" She became more and more excited as she spoke, and even began to encourage them, "To be honest, their little tricks should indeed be exposed. You don't need to feel guilty at all."

Dylan's face remained expressionless, and his tone remained calm, as if he hadn't heard her urging: "Ms. Skeeter, I'd like to ask, how much do you know about the 'Dumstron' magic school? Please note, I'm only asking about the school itself, not other people or things."

"Just this school?" Rita's excitement vanished instantly, her brows furrowed, and her fingers tapped the table unconsciously as she searched her memory for relevant information. "The most unique thing about Durmstrang is probably their curriculum."

"Students there can systematically learn dark magic, unlike other schools that only teach defense, and they never admit Muggle-born students, which is very rare in European magic schools."

She paused, then added, "Another well-known fact is that they expelled Gellert Grindelwald—the dark wizard who almost ruled the wizarding world back then, who was said to have been expelled by the school for exposing his extremist ideas while studying at Durmstrang."

“However, this school has been relatively unknown and has remained quite quiet for years.” Rita’s tone was casual, as if she were recalling unimportant old news. “I only recently found out that Viktor Krum was a Durmstrang student while covering the Triwizard Tournament. I never imagined that such an unassuming school could produce such a famous Quidditch player.”

She frowned and thought for a moment, then added, "If we go further back, there are only unconfirmed rumors left. For example, their headmaster succession method—there are rumors that Durmstrang doesn't care about seniority or ability; as long as you can kill the previous headmaster, you can succeed to the position, which sounds like a barbarian rule."

“Come to think of it, Durmstrang is quite mysterious.” Rita’s curiosity was completely piqued. She took two steps forward, her quill pen lightly tapping on the parchment, her eyes full of inquiry. “Mr. Hawkwood, I’m getting more and more curious—what are you planning to do by asking all this all of a sudden?”

“Ms. Skeeter,” Dylan said calmly, changing the subject instead of answering directly, “I have read your book, ‘Armando Dipette: Master or Idiot?’”

"Oh? You've actually read this book?" Rita's eyes lit up instantly, and her face immediately filled with a smug smile, all her previous disappointment vanishing.

She even subconsciously adjusted the ribbon on her chest, her tone filled with undisguised anticipation, "Mr. Hawkwood, what did you think after reading it? Objectively speaking, this book is quite profound."

"Objectively speaking, it's very much in line with your usual style." Dylan's tone remained calm, without the slightest exaggeration. "The words are sharp, even acrimonious, and highly inflammatory, easily manipulating the reader's emotions."

“That’s absolutely right!” Rita immediately nodded repeatedly, clapping her hands together, clearly agreeing with the assessment. “I want readers to feel the power of words at a glance, rather than reading bland and tasteless chronological accounts.”

“Besides that, there’s something else very important.” Dylan changed the subject, his gaze falling on the quill in Rita’s hand. “Ms. Skeeter, you write very quickly.”

"Oh? You even noticed that?" Rita looked surprised, raising an eyebrow, her tone a mix of astonishment and a hint of secret pride. "Very few people would notice that." (End of Chapter)