Hogwarts' Golden Glory

After the banquet, the students filed out of the auditorium.

Hermione walked in the middle of the Gryffindor group, surrounded by discussions about the Goblet of Fire, the champions, and all sorts of gossip.

Her gaze drifted one last time to the Slytherin table—Fleur had somehow returned to Kane's side and was tidying up the napkins scattered on the table.

The movements were so natural, as if they had been done a thousand times.

"Come on, Hermione," Harry pulled her along. "If you look back again, you'll break your neck."

"I didn't look back," Hermione said.

"You've looked at the Slytherin table at least forty times since the dinner party started," Harry said. "I counted."

Hermione glared at him. Harry wisely shut up.

He knew what the other person meant; he had done the same thing when he first met Zhang Qiu, staring at him dozens of times.

The next morning, everyone realized a serious problem—Demstrand and Beauxbatons' students had to stay and attend class together.

This year's Three Schools Tournament is amazing! The age limit has been lowered, and even the participating schools arrived early.

It is euphemistically called the assessment of school teaching quality.

Students from the other two schools can freely join classes to study.

Moreover, both schools even added a school-specific score, and the principals of both schools were happy to make a final comparison.

This means that you might encounter a Bulgarian strongman wearing a fur cloak in your Potions class.

This means that your transformation class will feature a beautiful, magazine-worthy Beauxbatons girl with a French accent.

This means that in Gryffindor's Defense Against the Dark Arts class—

"Everyone, quiet down!"

Professor Moody's wooden leg slammed heavily on the ground, making a sickening "thud".

His prosthetic eye spun wildly, scanning the classroom packed with students.

The Gryffindor and Slytherin students sat on the left, the Durmstrang delegation on the right, and the Beauxbatons students in the middle—because they were the fewest in number and seemed less inclined to sit with Durmstrang.

"I know some of you find attending classes at other schools exciting," Moody's voice was like sandpaper scraping, the scars on his face contorting with his movements, "but my class doesn't allow daydreaming, doesn't allow whispering, doesn't allow—"

He paused for a moment, his prosthetic eye fixed on the back row of the classroom.

There, a burly man in Durmstrang was trying to discuss something with his classmate in Bulgarian, his voice so loud that the whole class could hear him.

Moody waved his wand. Suddenly, the burly man's mouth was stuck shut.

"—No sound is allowed while I'm speaking!" Moody said, then continued his lecture.

"If there's a next time, I'll turn your mouth into your ass!"

The entire classroom was completely silent.

The girls in Beauxbatons exchanged knowing glances. Ron shrank back, wishing he could disappear into his desk.

Kane, sitting in the front row, remained expressionless, his quill pen rapidly scribbling on parchment.

Moody nodded; Kane's strength was no accident.

Fleur sat in the first row of the Beauxbatons section, just two aisles away from Kane.

She seemed to be listening attentively to the lesson, but Hermione noticed that her gaze would occasionally drift to the left—in that direction Kane was.

"Next, the practical exercise." Moody walked to the center of the classroom, pointing his wand at a worn-out training dummy. "Who would like to demonstrate the Obstacle Charm?"

No one raised their hand.

Durmstrang students seemed disdainful of demonstrating such "low-level" spells, Beauxbatons students were too reserved, and Hogwarts students were all waiting for others to go first.

"Then I'll do it," a voice said.

Hermione turned her head.

It was Kane. He stood up, walked to the center of the classroom, and held his wand level.

"There are many obstacles."

An invisible barrier shot out from the tip of his staff and struck the training dummy.

The dummy stopped abruptly, as if it had crashed into an invisible wall, and then slowly fell backward.

Moody's prosthetic eye stared at Kane for two seconds: "Not bad. Precise, powerful. Add a disarming spell, try continuous casting."

Kane nodded slightly, then waved his wand a second time: "Expelliarmus."

The wooden stick in the dummy's hand flew out, drawing an arc in the air before landing steadily in Moody's outstretched hand.

"Very good," Moody said, a rare hint of approval in his tone. "Go back and sit down."

Kane turned and returned to his seat. As he passed the Beauxbatons area, Fleur smiled slightly at him and mouthed something. Kane shook his head slightly and then sat down.

Hermione couldn't make out what the lip movements were, but she noticed that Fleur was smiling even more happily.

"That Malfoy," Ron whispered, leaning closer, "how does he know everything?"

"Because he's willing to spend the time learning," Hermione said, her tone a little sharp.

"I didn't say anything bad about him this time..." Ron shrank back, feeling wronged.

If Defense Against the Dark Arts is an undercurrent of tension, then Potions is a scene of utter disaster.

Professor Snape stood at the front of the classroom, his black robes fluttering behind him, his expression as somber as the sky before a storm. He glanced at the twenty-odd extra students in the classroom, a mocking smile playing on his lips.

"Today's topic is—a mild remedy."

Snape's voice was deep and dangerous. "I believe that the elites of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons here do not need me to repeat the basic steps."

A girl from Durmstrang raised her hand: "Professor, our textbooks are different from Hogwarts'—"

"That means you're not smart enough to deduce the correct formula in fifteen seconds," Snape interrupted her. "Deduct five points from Durmstrang."

The girl looked as if she had been slapped. Her classmates all lowered their heads, pretending to be flipping through books.

The girls in Beauxbatons exchanged a knowing look and fell silent.

Hermione lowered her head, focusing intently on processing her moonstone powder.

She knew Snape's classroom rules—don't draw attention, don't ask questions, don't breathe too loudly, don't argue, and don't do the wrong steps.

Otherwise, you will face a barrage of ridicule from the other party.

"Malfoy".

Snape's voice suddenly rang out. Hermione looked up.

"What color is in your crucible?" Snape walked to Kane's table and leaned over to examine it.

"Pale purple, Professor," Kane said calmly.

"Pale purple," Snape repeated, a slight smile playing on his lips—an expression somewhere between satisfaction and disdain. "The standard color should be light blue. What changes did you make?"

"I added half a spoonful of soy milk for drowsiness before adding the moonstone powder. This will make the medicine last longer and the color will be more purplish, but it won't affect its use."

Snape stared at him for three seconds. "Explain."

"The juice of the Sleepy Bean has the effect of stabilizing magical fluctuations, and the main reason why the moderating agent fails is the uneven injection of magical energy. Adding the juice first, and then slowly injecting the magical energy, can make the arrangement of the potion molecules more orderly." Kane spoke slowly and deliberately, as if reading from a textbook.

Snape paused for a moment, then said, "Slytherin, ten points."

He turned and walked away, his black robe billowing behind him.

Draco puffed out his chest smugly, as if he were the one who got the points.

Sitting not far away, Fleur looked at Kane with a hint of admiration in her eyes. He was indeed the man she admired.