Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

She paused, then changed the subject: "However, based on my years of experience as a journalist, the result of this competition probably won't have a significant impact on the Ministry of Magic. Even if there are any fluctuations, ultimately only Hogwarts will be affected."

"At least in my opinion, Hogwarts will definitely win the Triwizard Tournament. This might elevate Hogwarts' reputation to a new level, and hopefully that tattered Sorting Hat can last a few more years!" Her tone was somewhat sarcastic, clearly indicating her dissatisfaction with Hogwarts' Sorting System.

The afternoon sun shone through the towering stained-glass windows of Hogwarts Castle, casting dappled shadows on the stone floor.

The students were heading to the exam hall for the last exam of the school year with a mix of trepidation and anticipation, while Dylan and his group took advantage of the rare quiet time to stroll leisurely through the castle.

They walked slowly down the corridor covered with a dark red carpet. When they passed the portrait of the fat lady hanging on the round door, Dylan was the first to raise his hand in greeting. The others also smiled and greeted the fat lady in the portrait. The fat lady was still wearing a gorgeous silk dress and responded to everyone's greetings with an elegant posture, her voice loud and playful.

After the group rounded the corner and entered a quieter corridor, Mrs. Weasley stopped, glanced back at the portrait, a nostalgic look on her face, and said softly, "So many years have passed, but the fat lady's temperament hasn't changed at all; she's still so lively."

She paused, as if suddenly remembering something important, and turned her gaze to Harry, her tone somewhat probing: "Harry, I have a question for you. If you come back very late at night—say, it's almost dawn, around three or four in the morning—will the Fat Madam get angry at you, or give you a long, nagging scolding?"

As soon as Mrs. Weasley finished speaking, Bill Weasley raised an eyebrow, a look of curiosity mixed with a hint of teasing on his face. He looked at his mother and said, "Mother, three or four in the morning is not a normal time to come home late. How come you were still outside the castle that late back then?"

Hearing her son's question, Mrs. Weasley sighed softly, her gaze drifting into the distance, as if piercing through the walls of the corridor and returning to a time many years ago, her tone full of reminiscence: "Back then, your father and I would take walks around the castle at night."

Her lips unconsciously curved upwards with a sweet smile. "Back then, the gatekeeper of the castle was Apollon Pringle. In order for me to avoid Pringle's patrols, your father deliberately diverted his attention. In the end, he was caught red-handed by Pringle and was scolded for quite a while."

Upon hearing this, the others in the group all stopped in their tracks, their expressions filled with surprise. They instinctively took a deep breath, as if they had stumbled upon a long-buried secret.

Standing in the crowd, Dylan listened to Mrs. Weasley's story, and a different kind of thought arose in his mind. He himself often sneaked out of the dormitory with Luna at night, and even went into the depths of the Forbidden Forest more than once.

However, their situation is very different from that of the Weasleys back then. Dylan has a good relationship with the current doorman, Filch, so he doesn't have to worry about being suddenly arrested.

Thinking of this, Dylan subconsciously turned his head and glanced in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

"That's an enviable experience!" Sirius broke the silence first, whistling loudly and teasingly saying with a hearty smile, "Molly, I never knew you and Arthur were so romantic when you were young, actually risking getting caught by the gatekeeper for a nighttime stroll!"

Mrs. Weasley blushed slightly after Sirius's teasing. She coughed a few times to cover her embarrassment and regained her usual composure. She said to everyone in an urgent tone, "You must keep this a secret for me, especially Fred and George. Otherwise, who knows what kind of trouble it might cause."

Harry nodded vigorously and said with a firm look in his eyes, "Mrs. Weasley, please rest assured, I will never tell anyone about this and will keep this secret for you."

Bill Weasley nodded in agreement, but a forced smile crept across his face, his tone a mix of helplessness and amusement: "I'll keep it a secret too. But just thinking about how mischievous Fred and George would be if they found out, I can already picture it."

Dylan nodded in agreement, a smile creeping onto his face as he said, trying to suppress a laugh, "Mrs. Weasley, I'll keep it a secret for you, so you don't need to worry."

As Harry listened to Bill's words, he thought of Fred and George's usual mischief and couldn't help but laugh. He had to purse his lips tightly to keep from laughing out loud, and just nodded like a chick pecking at rice, unable to make a clear promise like Dylan.

Mrs. Weasley looked at everyone's expressions, sighed helplessly, and rubbed her forehead. "That's exactly what I'm worried about! They're about to graduate, and they should probably settle down and spend their last days peacefully."

As the group talked, they continued walking along the corridor. The sunlight was still warm, but this unexpected memory added a touch of warmth and fun to their leisurely stroll.

The evening glow shone through the high windows of Hogwarts Great Hall, casting a solemn atmosphere over the upcoming third event of the Triwizard Tournament.

The Great Hall had been completely renovated, with three huge tapestries hanging on the walls, each embroidered with the crests of the participating schools—Hogwarts' crest of four beasts—the lion, eagle, badger, and snake; Beauxbatons' silver fleur; and Durmstrang's black double-headed eagle. Strangely, even though there was not a breath of wind in the Great Hall, these tapestries always swayed slightly, and the embroidery threads shimmered under the lights, as if they were alive and responding to the upcoming competition.

Dylan entered the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table. The aroma of dinner filled the air—the charred scent of roast beef, the sweetness of pumpkin juice, and the sweet fragrance of various pastries intertwined—but it couldn't completely dispel the somber atmosphere.

"Ah... as expected, he still shamelessly came."

Dylan looked up when he heard those words.

It is none other than the current Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.

He was still wearing the dark velvet robe that symbolized his ministerial status, but he had long lost his former vigor. Compared to his former appearance, he was now haggard and unrecognizable. His eyes were sunken, with dark circles under them. His already thin hair had receded even further, revealing an even wider forehead. He had lost a lot of weight. The robe that should have fit him well and exuded dignity now looked loose and baggy on him, as if it were hanging on a clothes rack, making him look even more listless.

Fudge was flanked by Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Sr., who were leaning over him and whispering something, seemingly reporting on preparations for the event.

Fudge just nodded mechanically, his eyes somewhat unfocused, completely lacking the confidence he used to have when giving orders.

In contrast, Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Sr. remained composed. Crouch Sr. still had that stern, unsmiling look, his brows furrowed, his eyes sharp, as if no detail could escape his scrutiny. Ludo Bagman, on the other hand, was beaming with excitement, a constant smile on his lips, his eyes filled with anticipation for the third project, his hands even unconsciously rubbing together, as if he couldn't wait to witness the exciting moment.

With the third project drawing ever closer, not all warriors can have it as easy as Ludo Bagman.

Many Warriors players lost their usual composure and instead displayed the same seriousness as Barty Crouch.

They held knives and forks in their hands, but their gazes drifted into the distance. Food piled up on their plates, but they never put it in their mouths. Their brows were full of unease and tension, and their fingers would even unconsciously tighten, making the cutlery rattle slightly.

Fred and George, carrying their trays, approached Harry, their eyes fixed on his tense profile and furrowed brows, and couldn't help but whisper teasingly. "I'm telling you, Harry," Fred said, nudging him with his elbow as he suppressed a laugh, "you're even more serious than Percy right now. You could probably compete for the position of 'Barty Crouch's personal assistant,' and I guarantee Mr. Crouch would be pleased."

George immediately chimed in, "Absolutely! Even that tense vibe is exactly the same. He's even more of a workaholic than Percy!"

Dylan shook his head: "Stop teasing him, Harry's nervous too."

Harry couldn't help but give Dylan a grateful look.

Perhaps due to excessive tension, most of the warriors didn't actually eat much. They would stop what they were doing from time to time, turn their heads to look towards the teachers' table, their eyes full of anxiety, secretly wondering when the referees would announce the start of the game, completely losing the leisurely feeling they usually had when enjoying dinner.

As darkness fell, the magical starry sky on the auditorium ceiling slowly lit up, its twinkling light reflecting off the candlelight below.

Just then, Dumbledore slowly stood up from the teachers' table. This scene instantly silenced most of the previously noisy Great Hall. The students stopped talking and all turned their eyes to the white-haired headmaster. Only a few suppressed whispers remained, which quickly dissipated into the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dumbledore's voice was steady and powerful, resounding throughout the Great Hall through the magical amplification effect, clearly audible in every corner, "After the fierce competition of the first two events, the final event of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin!"

He raised his hand towards the hall doors, his tone encouraging: "All warriors, please rise immediately and follow Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch to the Quidditch pitch to prepare. The entrance to the final challenge has been prepared for you there."

As soon as Dumbledore finished speaking, Ludo Bagman sprang to his feet, his smile widening. He strode up from the teachers' table, waving vigorously at the warriors who were already standing, his voice brimming with barely suppressed excitement: "Hurry up, warriors! Don't keep everyone waiting too long, I can't wait to see your brilliant performance in the final task!"

Barty Crouch Sr. remained serious, giving the Warriors a slight nod to signal them to follow, before heading towards the gate himself.

The eager gazes of relatives, the encouraging looks of professors, and the enthusiastic applause of classmates intertwined, forming a warm current. The warriors put down their cutlery, straightened their school uniforms or robes, and stood up with expressions of both nervousness and excitement. Following in the footsteps of Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch, they walked out of the auditorium with their heads held high.

The group paused briefly in the foyer, where the marble floor reflected the light from the magical torches on the pillars, and a sense of solemnity filled the air.

Barty Crouch turned his head and looked sharply at Ludo Bagman beside him, his tone concise and clear: "Mr. Bagman, it's time to distribute the protective gear."

“Understood! Leave it to me!” Ludo Bagman replied immediately, deftly untying the strap of the velvet bag he carried with him. He took out palm-sized metal tags with intricate patterns engraved on the edges and distributed them to each warrior one by one, a hearty smile on his face. “Just put these in your pockets, no need to activate them, they will automatically be in standby mode.”

Barty Crouch stepped forward and added, "This is a magical protective device provided by Durmstrang. Its core function is to ensure everyone's safety."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over each warrior present. "We have compiled a list of high-risk dark magic, and I believe you have all received notification letters from the Ministry of Magic before this."

Seeing the warriors nod in agreement, confirming that they were aware of the matter, he continued to emphasize, "There is one thing I must remind everyone to pay special attention to: the magical protection on this metal plaque will only be automatically triggered when you encounter a life-threatening danger."

His tone was serious, without a trace of joking, "I hope that all warriors will go all out, and while ensuring their own safety, do their best to showcase their most proficient magical skills and win honor for their schools."

Many warriors glanced down at the cold metal plaque in their hands, tracing the patterns on it with their fingertips, and instantly understood Barty Crouch's unspoken meaning—this was not a "get-out-of-jail-free card" for them to rely on, but rather the last line of defense. They should not take any chances and must face the challenge with the utmost seriousness.

After the metal badges were distributed, Barty Crouch Sr. took the lead, and the group walked out of the main gate of Hogwarts Castle in an orderly fashion.

A cool night breeze carried the scent of vegetation from the Forbidden Forest as they walked along the stone path toward the Quidditch pitch at the other end of the castle. Barty Crouch Sr. slowed his pace, walking alongside the warriors, and explained the core rules of the third challenge in detail, ensuring everyone understood: "Warriors, please remember this: you may only bring your wands into the labyrinth. No auxiliary magical items are permitted. The labyrinth contains not only layers of increasingly difficult magical traps, but also a variety of domesticated magical creatures, all of which will be challenges on your journey."

"The combined scores of the first two items will determine the order in which you enter the maze. The team with the highest score will enter first, followed by each team in turn, with a five-minute interval between each team."

He continued, “What you are about to face is a progressive maze with seven levels of difficulty. There are eight different entrances in the maze. After arriving at the Quidditch pitch, you will need to draw lots to determine your entrance.”

"Regarding the rules for obtaining the trophy, it needs to be explained that the entire Warriors team must lift the trophy together and hold it for a full five minutes to truly win the championship. Once the conditions are met, the trophy will automatically activate a teleportation spell, taking the victor directly out of the maze and onto the championship podium in the center of the court."

At this point, Barty Crouch stopped and turned to Dylan, his tone softening slightly: "Mr. Hawkwood's situation is a bit special. You also need to lift the trophy with the other two team members and hold it for a full five minutes to complete the challenge."

“Mr. Crouch, I understand what you mean,” Dylan nodded in response.

Barty Crouch nodded slightly and continued to explain the rules: "During the third event, warriors from different teams are allowed to attack each other, but they must strictly abide by the dueling treaty generally recognized in the magical world and are prohibited from using underhanded tricks that violate the spirit of fair competition."

"Attacks may include black magic, but all warriors, please remember one principle: any black magic you use must have a clear and workable countermeasure." His gaze grew increasingly stern. "If this rule is violated, even if the team that wins the trophy first, their result will be invalidated."

As a penalty, this team will enter the maze 30 minutes later than other teams when a new round of the competition begins.

"In addition, there are two ironclad rules that cannot be violated—first, it is forbidden to damage the structure or magical barriers of the maze in any way; second, it is forbidden to use any flying magic or props to traverse the maze. Violation of these rules will result in immediate disqualification from the competition."

After explaining all the rules one by one, Barty Crouch stopped, turned around, and scanned each warrior present with his gaze. He asked in a deep voice, "These are all the rules for the third project. Does anyone have any questions? If there's anything unclear, please ask immediately. The third project is about to officially begin, and no further rule inquiries will be accepted at that time."

Compared to Ludo Bagman's previous rambling and flawed explanations of the rules, Barty Crouch's explanations were clear, concise, and well-structured. Each rule was explicit and actionable, making it easy for the warriors to understand. (End of Chapter)