Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 405 The Ball
"Look! Our youngest warrior has obtained the most precious dragon egg!" Bagman's commentary echoed through the woods.

He was blessed with a powerful voice, his voice was excited, even more so than if he were performing himself.

"That was fantastic, Potter!" Hagrid said in a muffled voice as he leaned closer.

He spoke of Harry with concern, but his eyes couldn't help but linger on the spineless dragon being treated. He truly loved dragons, even ignoring Madam Maxim.

"Your move was both brilliant and decisive, Potter!" Professor Moody praised, then limped out of the crowd with his cane.

Harry turned to look at Ron, who was approaching. Ron was deathly pale and stared blankly at Harry and Hermione, still reeling from the earlier panic. "I was wrong, I was really wrong. I shouldn't have been jealous of you. The Goblet of Fire is a death trap."

Ron hesitated for a moment, then opened his mouth to apologize for the awkwardness of the past few days. Before he could finish speaking, Harry interrupted him, saying, "It's okay, just forget about it."

"But……"

I said, let's forget about it.

"..."

Ron grinned awkwardly, and Harry smiled back. He had managed to borrow Charlie's notes for them, and after the match, instead of congratulating him, he was the only one who cared about his safety.

Once you've figured this out, there's no need for an apology.

Harry greeted the classmates who came to congratulate him, then his gaze suddenly fell on a girl on the periphery. She had long black hair draped over her shoulders, wore an elegant wizard's robe, and had a blue eagle pattern on her chest. She stood there silently, watching him.

It was Qiu Zhang; she didn't go to Cedric's side, but came here to congratulate him.

Harry felt a flutter in his heart, not the flutter he felt when being chased by a dragon, but a different kind of wonderful and exciting thrill.

Time seemed to slow down, the world seemed to quiet down, and the crowd parted to make way for them. The gentle girl looked at him with tender eyes.

“Harry…”

"Harry! Wake up, get up!"

The violent shaking woke Harry from his dream. He struggled to open his eyes and saw a freckled face—his closest friend Ron.

Ron stood at the head of the bed, already dressed in his wizard's robes, grinning as usual, and rattling off a long string of words:
"Get up, Harry. We have Defense Against the Dark Arts class this morning. Ilvermorny and Beauxbatons will be scrambling for seats, so we need to get there early. Maybe we can sit with Miss Delacour. She's been asking Hermione a lot about clues to the golden egg lately. Has she asked you...?"

It was unusual for Harry to find Ron so noisy so early in the morning.

With a sigh, Harry threw off the covers and got out of bed. While lamenting his shattered dream, he washed up, his toothpaste turning into foam that filled his mouth. Ron started muttering about French-style breakfasts again, and Harry's head was buzzing. He felt like he had no appetite.

You should know that he usually only has nightmares, with Voldemort and pythons as his regular subjects, while he rarely has a pleasant dream like last night, even once every few years.

And just like that, it all fell apart.

If Qiu Zhang had just a few more seconds, he could have finished saying that sentence.

"Ugh……"

After washing up and going downstairs, I saw students coming and going in the corridor, wearing four different colored school uniforms. The uniforms of Ifamoni and Beauxbatons were thinner than Durmstrang's, with a shawl over them.

The morning light streamed in through the window at the end of the stairs, accompanied by a cold wind that made the colorful ribbons in the corridor sway, and the mistletoe and holly leaves on the windowsill flutter. Hogwarts' first snow had not yet arrived.

It's already December, and Christmas is just around the corner.

"Hey Harry, good morning!"

"Good morning."

The one who greeted them was Ilfamoni, an upperclassman. Because they shared the same language, they were the first to integrate into Hogwarts. In addition, because they often ate at the Gryffindor long table, they were very close to the Gryffindor students.

"Look, this is my new backpack from Hogsmeade. Could you sign it for me?"

"Uh……"

Harry took the quill somewhat awkwardly and left some rather unsightly writing.

"I read your story in 'The Rise and Fall of Dark Magic' and 'Important Magical Events of the 20th Century,' and it was so inspiring... Many of my friends support you even more than Pickley. Keep up the good work in the next game, okay?"

The girl from Iphamoni kept chattering away, but when she saw the "Defense Against Magic Theory" in his bag, her eyes lit up: "Your first class this morning is Professor Moody's, right?"

"Yes."

“That’s great, we plan to sit in on the class, and hopefully we can sit together.”

"..."

Watching the witch walk briskly away, Harry sighed almost imperceptibly; he didn't want it at all.

Students from several other schools attended classes with them, with Defense Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies being the most popular. Professor Moody demonstrated truly cruel and vicious dark magic, which impressed Durmstrang's students.

Almost two weeks have passed since the competition, and the school has resumed normal classes. The impact of the first event has not completely disappeared. These days, everyone he meets on the street greets him, and some girls ask him to sign their backpacks to encourage him to prepare for the next event and maintain his lead to win the championship.

The second project is scheduled for next spring, after the ice and snow melt, giving us nearly two months to prepare.

Harry initially felt excited, but soon became indifferent, spending his time playing Gobstone and hanging out with Seamus and the others discussing Quidditch.

Warriors didn't have to take exams or do homework; he had never realized before that Hogwarts had so much free time.

"You're a star now."

As they descended the stairs, Ron stared into his eyes, his gaze deep and his tone cryptic: "It must feel good to be fawned over by people like Cedric, Pickley, and Krum, right?"

"I'll give you the limited-edition pudding, now stop mocking me."

"make a deal!"

Ron's expression vanished in an instant, a smile curving his lips at the sight of Pudding: "Seriously, how's your preparation for the second match going? Have you figured out the golden egg clue yet?"

Harry shook his head: "Hermione and the others are the ones who are busy. Since there are only two golden eggs, they have to try out the experimental methods they designed one by one, so the progress is slow."

Harry hardly participated in the study of the golden egg; strictly speaking, it was Hermione's trophy. The good news was that a group of bright, high-achieving students formed a discussion group and would update him on the progress of the decryption every now and then.

The bad news is that Hermione always drags him into every group discussion, listening to them talk about which books they've been flipping through in the past few days and what similar cases have occurred in the Goblet of Fire.

Krum was also in the discussion group. Harry didn't mind; the cooperation was made within Dragon's Nest and was part of the deal.

The two chatted as they walked down to the Great Hall, had breakfast, and without much delay, arrived early at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. They sat down and waited for the bell to ring, listening to Hermione and Professor Rozier chat.

Professor Kirsten Rozier, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Beauxbatons and a friend of Professor Levent, is a professor of the same subject and has also had Auror professional experience. Professor Rozier is very interested in Mad-Eye's teaching style.

Professor Rozier would sit in on each new lesson, sitting next to Hermione, and would borrow a copy of her notes afterward for reference.

For some reason, Mad-Eye was somewhat resistant to this, but after talking with Professor Levent, he tacitly allowed the professor from another school to sit in on the class, but never answered her questions. After a while, Professor Rozier also wisely kept silent in class.

Professor Rosier is such a witch. Her experience as an Auror has given her unique insight, and her pure-blood background has taught her how to manage her distance from others.

"Hermione, how's Bastian doing lately?" Christine flipped through her notes from the last class, marking several errors caused by conflicts between theory and practice.

“That’s great. The letter said she made a lot of friends at school.” Hermione was sorting through information about the golden egg decryption in another notebook.

"It sounds like they've shaken off the influence of the past..."

“Perhaps she can be friends with Gabrielle.” Fleur entered through the back door, her bright smile silencing the classroom for a moment. As she sat down next to Professor Rozier, all the boys in the classroom turned to look at her.

Harry turned to look at his friend beside him; Ron grinned, looking like a madman.

……

The second lesson is Transfiguration. The fourth-year curriculum is still in the basic stage, and Professor McGonagall will not teach forbidden black magic. Few students from other schools audit the class, and even if they do, they only choose the advanced classes for higher grades.

Without Miss Delacour unleashing her Veela magic, Ron became much more normal. He no longer daydreamed in class, but instead focused on playing fencing with Harry and the cat below, using fake wands—one a tin-plated parrot and the other a rubber black cod.

They were evenly matched, like needles and wheat awns.

"Potter! Weasley! Can't you two concentrate for once!" Professor McGonagall snapped angrily, making the two men tremble and immediately sit up straight.

"Back to the Christmas ball, it's a traditional part of the Goblet of Fire tournament and a great opportunity for us to socialize with foreign guests."

"The ball will be held in the auditorium at 8 p.m. on Christmas Eve and will end at midnight. Boys are required to wear formal gowns and girls are required to wear dresses. It is open only to students in the fourth year and above, but you may invite a younger student if you wish."

"..."

The news of the ball excited the students, and after the bell rang, Professor McGonagall called Harry and Hermione aside:
"As is customary, the warriors start the dance, so you must each have a partner to dance the first song, understand?"

"what?"

Harry's face immediately turned red; the thought of such a scene made him feel as if his insides were twisting and shrinking.

Hermione couldn't help but frown.

……

"Woooo..."

The sound of the express train's whistle as it departed reached the castle, its echo lingering long afterward.

This year, Christmas falls next Saturday. Considering that the express train only stops in London and students will need some time to get home, Hogwarts has started its holiday a week early. The Christmas break has arrived so suddenly that many students are somewhat taken aback.

The professors understood this feeling. News of the blizzard and the ball had swept through Hogwarts at the same time, even overshadowing Professor McGonagall's announcement of the list of students staying on campus for the holidays. This sense of astonishment was even stronger when they saw the number of students staying on campus for the holidays.

For the past two hundred years, only a very small number of students have stayed at school, but this year all students in the fourth grade and above stayed, and more than half of the lower-grade students were invited to stay. Never before have so many people stayed at school for Christmas.

Christine, carrying the teaching materials she had compiled over the past few days, walked leisurely through the third-floor corridor toward her office.

Along the way, I saw many girls gathered in twos and threes, sitting at the end of the college's long table, blocking the corridor, and standing at the stairwell, discussing what to wear on Christmas night. Whenever a boy passed by, they would whisper and giggle.

Occasionally, the boys would get annoyed and ask them what they were laughing about, but the girls would say nothing and just laugh even harder.

Christine occasionally stopped to observe, finding it somewhat amusing.

Not only are ordinary boys and girls worried about the upcoming dance, but the warriors are also scratching their heads and feeling anxious.

Worried about being rejected and embarrassed by a hasty invitation, worried that the dress wouldn't be pretty or fit well enough, worried that clumsy dance moves would invite ridicule...

Seeing Miss Granger lingering at the stairwell, Christine was somewhat surprised. Even the calm and wise Miss Know-It-All was troubled by something like this?
Hermione.

Christine, passing by, stopped and called out to the little witch: "Are you waiting here... for someone? Are you inviting some boy?"

“Professor Rozier.” Hermione stopped and looked up, clutching a pink envelope in her hand, her expression embarrassed and uneasy. “No… I’m waiting for Fleur. Someone asked me to give this letter to her.”

"Is that Mr. Weasley?"

Hermione doesn't have many friends, and even fewer people she can send love letters to. Excluding Harry, who she can talk to Fleur, only Ron is left.

Christine couldn't help but laugh. After exchanging pleasantries and saying goodbye, she paced around for a moment, then stopped behind the corner, intending to watch the show and use it as fodder for conversation with Melvin later.

Beauxbatons' carriage had been parked at Hogwarts for two months, and many of the supplies on board had been used up. Madam Maxim entrusted her with the task of purchasing supplies. She consulted with Vice-Headmaster McGonagall, as Melvin had a close relationship with the merchants of Hogsmeade.

I don't plan to wear silver to the ball.

"Then I want to wear it..."

The chattering voices gradually drew closer.

Hermione immediately stopped her, found the most radiant and eye-catching girl, handed her the hot letter, and stammered, "Fleur, someone asked me to give this to you."

After handing it over, Hermione immediately covered her face, wishing she could dig a tunnel and escape right away.

Her two friends were terrible. One fantasized about inviting the prettiest girls from the four schools but didn't dare to show up himself, while the other coveted the Eagle Girl who already had a boyfriend but didn't dare to take any action.

The two of them just kept sighing and complaining when they got together, which made her think that the ball was some kind of monster more terrifying than a fire dragon, and she still hadn't found a suitable dance partner.

Furong was very experienced in dealing with this kind of situation. She smiled softly and said, "I received it. I will read it, but I will not reply. Please pass on my message that I will not accept the invitation from this kind of person. He is a coward who does not even have the courage to deliver a letter in person."

There was a moment of silence at the stairwell.

Hermione felt terrible.

(End of this chapter)