Hogwarts: Don't call me Wandmaker

Chapter 357 Thank you, and keep it up!

The next morning, the first event of the three-way competition was about to begin. From breakfast onwards, a sense of tension and excitement filled the entire school.

The competition will take place in the afternoon, and school will be closed at noon so that all students have time to go to the newly opened paddock outside... Of course, they have no idea what they will see.

Siron left the castle even earlier; he hadn't even finished lunch when Professor McGonagall rushed over.

"Sirlen, the warriors are now heading to the field below... You must be ready to complete the first task."

“Okay, I got it,” Celen said, as he quickly shoveled a few mouthfuls of mashed potatoes and fried chicken into his mouth.

“Good luck, Celeste,” Hermione whispered.

"Keep going, you'll succeed," Harry encouraged them.

Ron, who was standing to the side, opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but didn't know how to start.

Before he could finish his thought, Siron and Professor McGonagall had already left the Great Hall together.

As he walked through the aisle between the two long tables, everyone around him spontaneously burst into applause.

However, not everyone supported Siren. For example, many Slytherins believed that he shouldn't have broken the rules by throwing his name into the Goblet of Fire.
“He’s only fourteen, three years younger than the other two warriors. We’re doomed to lose, and it’s all because of his ridiculous vanity!” Fourth-year student Pansy Parkinson has said this in public more than once.

Before the match even started, she had already figured out how to pin the blame for losing on Xilun.

This time was no exception. On the way to the paddock, she, Milison Burst, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle made a lot of sarcastic remarks about Siron.

"Shut up, you envious parasites!" Someone finally couldn't hold back any longer and stood up to say, "You're just jealous of Xilun!"

Surprisingly, the first to step forward was not Hermione, nor Harry, but Ron, who hadn't spoken to Siron in the past few days.

“Oh, so it’s Weasley…” Malfoy looked him up and down, then sneered, “But I heard that you fell out with Ollivander because you were jealous that he became a champion. What, did we all remember wrong?”

Ron's face flushed red instantly, and he stammered, unable to speak.

The Slytherins laughed even harder at the sight.

“And who told you I envied him?” Malfoy stepped forward. “Only you Gryffindors would do something so unruly, voting without considering the consequences when you’re not even seventeen.”

"What did you say?"

"Damn it, dare you say that again!"

The surrounding Gryffindors immediately erupted in anger, swarming over in a chaotic rush. Harry and Hermione walked at the front, standing behind Ron and glaring angrily at Malfoy and the others.

But the next second, the Slytherins arrived, and more and more people gathered around, as if a great battle could break out at any moment.

Fortunately, Professor Moody arrived just in time.

The wooden prosthetic leg made a distinctive "dudu" sound as it stepped on the ground. This sound seemed to have some special magic, and the two groups that had been at loggerheads just moments before quickly scattered.

Some Slytherins, in particular, ran away in a panic before Moody even got close.

"What happened!" Moody walked between Malfoy and Ron, his blue magic eye darting back and forth, and said in a deep voice:

"I hope you're not arguing or doing anything else that violates school rules."

“Yes, it was Weasley who started it,” Malfoy said first, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke, seemingly also afraid of Moody.

Moody's blue magic eyes looked at Ron.

Ron felt an unprecedented pressure hit him, which made his legs tremble violently and his tongue stiffen, rendering him unable to speak.

“No, Professor, they were the ones who spoke ill of Sirens first,” Harry interjected. “Those shameless traitors, they want Durmstrang to win!”

"traitor……"

For some unknown reason, Professor Moody's demeanor instantly changed. He stared at the Slytherins, looking like... a wild beast about to go berserk.

"Oh, Alastor, so you've been here all along."

Then someone else came over; it was Dumbledore.

He grabbed Moody's arm and said urgently, "Come with me quickly. Barty thinks we should do one last check of the paddock, and I don't think anyone is better suited to do it than you."

Dumbledore grabbed Moody and hurriedly left, easing the increasingly tense atmosphere around the Great Hall.

Malfoy touched his forehead, which was covered in cold sweat, and gasped for breath, while Goyle next to him sat down on the ground.

In contrast, the Gryffindors on the other side fared much better and recovered quickly.

"You just said Slytherins wouldn't break the rules?" Ron said again while they were catching their breath. "Don't think I don't know, you all secretly went to the Goblet of Fire to vote that night, you just didn't cross the age line."

“Nonsense…” Malfoy denied, “I didn’t do that!”

“Nonsense?” Ron curled his lip. “Fred and George saw it too. Your names were in the school hospital at 2 a.m. because you suddenly grew a beard on your chin!”

This time, it was Malfoy's turn to stammer and be speechless. He hadn't expected that Mrs. Pomfrey would actually remember everyone who had been to the school hospital.

"Ha, hypocrisy."

Ron, victorious and triumphant, turned and walked out of the castle.

Meanwhile, Siron, who had arrived at the hunting grounds ahead of time, was unaware of what was happening inside the castle; he was currently being interviewed by the Daily Prophet.

He made the request himself as a warrior, and Rita Skeeter had no way to refuse unless she was willing to quit on the spot.

But would she do that? Definitely not!
So she reluctantly went with Siron to another tent specifically used for interviews.

“Rita Skeeter, I need your help.” As soon as he entered the tent, Siren got straight to the point.

Rita Skeeter's arm froze in mid-air, her right hand gripping a gaudy automatic quill pen tightly.

She knew it wouldn't be good news if Ollivander contacted her.

"I reject."

“Then I’ll go find Professor McGonagall and tell her you’re an illegal Animagus,” Celen said.

“So what?” Rita Skeeter said. “You can’t tell when Animagus isn’t transformed!”

“That’s right.” Xiren nodded. “Then you must remember this well: throughout the entire Triwizard Tournament, don’t even think about turning into a beetle to eavesdrop on anything…”

"Crack!"

With a crisp sound, the expensive automatic quill pen was snapped in two.

“How can I help you?” Rita Skeeter said through gritted teeth.

"Help me cheat during the lottery!"

“Impossible!” Rita Skeeter said in a deep voice, “No one can do it in front of Dumbledore, I can’t!”

“I will also write letters to the wizards whose secrets you overheard.”

"Of course, of course I'd be happy to help you..."

……

"How's your talk going? The Warriors have to go through with the draft." Five minutes later, Ludo Bagman walked into the tent.

However, here he only saw Xiren.

“Strange, where’s Rita Skeeter?” Ludo Bagman looked at Siron suspiciously. “I remember you came together.”

“She seems to have had something else to do and just left,” Xiren said. “Never mind her. Didn’t you just say you were going to draw lots?”

He passed by him and returned to the large tent where the warriors were.

Fleur and Krum had already arrived. They had obviously received news of the fire dragon from their principal beforehand, and their faces were now extremely pale.

“Alright, don’t be nervous. Now I’ll explain the situation to you.” Ludo Bagman walked in and said cheerfully, “I’m going to pass this bag to each of you in turn.”

He held up a purple silk bag. “You need to draw your respective opponents… they are different kinds…”

Siren noticed that Fleur and Krum had become even paler, and they stood there swaying, their eyes vacant, as if they hadn't heard a word Bagman was saying.

Until the purple bag was placed in front of Hibiscus.

“Come on, ladies first…” Ludo Bagman said with a smile.

Fleur instinctively reached into the bag and pulled out a lifelike... Welsh green dragon.

Oh, the best choice has been taken...

Xilun sighed silently, somewhat disappointed, and even wondered if Furong had taken Felix Felicis before the match.

After all, of the three fire dragons, the Welsh Green Dragon is the smallest and the easiest to deal with.

There are two more.

Just as Siron was about to say something, he saw Ludo Bagman turn around and place the bag in front of him.

"Next up is the youngest one, Krum, you certainly don't have any objections, right?"

Krum's face grew even darker. Clearly, he had a problem, a big one, but he couldn't say anything.

Since Xilun is indeed the youngest, and three years younger than them, he should logically and emotionally draw lots first.

Krum snorted, which was considered his agreement... Anyway, there was still a 50% chance, and he didn't believe that Xilun would be so lucky as to directly pick off the remaining Swedish short-nosed dragon.

Seeing Krum's sullen expression, Ludo Bagman seemed even happier.

Xiren guessed that he must have also read Rita Skeeter's article that spread rumors about Krum fixing the match, and even believed it, and was just deliberately trying to annoy Krum.

But for Xiren, this couldn't be better.

He reached his hand into the cloth bag.

But no one saw that there was a beetle hidden in Xilun's loosely clenched hand.

There were two dragon models left in the bag, and they felt exactly the same to the touch.

it is as expected.

As Xilun thought to himself, he also sensed the beetle's movements in his palm and directly chose the model on the left and took it out.

A blue fire dragon model appeared before everyone.

“Swedish short-nosed dragon!” Ludo Bagman exclaimed excitedly, his schadenfreude almost palpable.

Looking at Krum again, his face was completely devoid of color. He sat down with a thud, staring blankly at the ground.

But the proper procedures still had to be followed. Ludo Bagman went over and urged him to take out the model of the Hungarian wood bee.

"It's okay." He patted Krum on the shoulder in a mock manner. "At least you'll be the last one on the field, giving you enough time to think about tactics!"

However, at this moment, Krum was like a puppet that had lost its magic, and he didn't hear what he said at all.

“Well then, Miss Delacour, you’re the first one,” Ludo Bagman continued. “I have to leave for a bit; the audience needs commentary. You’ll be on the field as soon as you hear the whistle, got it?”

After saying that, he quickly walked out.

Only three warriors remained. The tent was eerily quiet, with only the sound of increasingly rapid heartbeats audible.

Siren secretly opened his hand, and the beetle was gone... to be precise, it should be Rita Skeeter's Animagus.

To ensure he wouldn't draw the Hungarian wood bee, he thought of having Rita Skeeter turn into a beetle and pick one out of the bag for him.

The code is to poke your palm, using your fingers as a dividing line: one poke means left, two pokes mean right.

This method proved to be effective; the bag only affected the tactile sensation of the fingers, and the contents could still be seen.

With Rita Skeeter's help, Siron successfully selected the Swedish short-nosed dinosaur.

While not the best choice, the Welsh Green Dragon is still acceptable.

He glanced again at the Swedish short-nosed dragon with the number two tag on it. The little dragon folded its wings and rubbed comfortably against his palm.

Looking at it this way, the little guy is quite cute... well, provided it stays this size and doesn't grow into a twenty-foot-tall behemoth.

Soon, the whistle blew.

Furong stood up mechanically and walked unsteadily outside.

"Good luck," Siron said.

Furong did not answer; she was unable to make any sound at the moment.

Now only he and Krum are left in the tent.

A few seconds later, Xiren heard a commotion from the crowd, which meant that Furong had entered the arena.

Then it was him...

They were about to face the fire dragon. Even though they had made ample preparations, Xilun couldn't help but feel nervous, and his heart was beating faster and faster.

But then he noticed Krum in the corner.

“The audience should have seen the Welsh Green Dragon by now,” he said to himself. “That thing must be ten feet tall, no wonder they were screaming in shock.”

Krum stiffly raised his head and glanced at Xiren.

“Sorry,” Xiren quickly said, “I forgot that the Hungarian wood bee is twenty feet long. When you come out, the cheers will definitely be even louder.”

Krum's eye twitched violently, as if he wanted to say something, but he only let out a rough mutter.

"Thank you, and good luck to you too," Xilun said.

Hearing his opponent's encouragement, he suddenly felt less nervous.

……

(End of this chapter)